Archive for March, 2009

Twitter This

March 25, 2009

Why has twitter suddenly become so big lately? I feel like all of the news anchors are plugging their twitters. Do we really care if Campbell Brown is taking out the garbage? I guess for crazy fans/ stalkers it is interesting and humanizes celebrities. Stars are just like us. They do mundane things. And yet we care, or at least someone does.

I think my brother was one of the early bloggers. He would call and give me an oral description of his work to commute. I don’t care. It’s a monologue, not a conversation. Just hard to imagine a twitter would be any more interesting. But if I was younger and had more time, or actually used twitter, perhaps I would feel differently.

I’m turning into a craggily out of touch matron. Yikes!

Humility

March 11, 2009

I’m embarrassed to admit that I have not read, let alone studied some of literature’s classics. I still find Shakespeare laborious and sometimes wish for a better command of the English language. Yet I call myself a writer. Never mind I have not written much lately.

I have been calling myself a writer for years now, and even managed to cash some checks proving me right. Yet I still doubt myself. Each time I turn in an assignment whether to an editor or to my writer’s group, I get a little nervous. My group’s writing assignment this week is to incorporate five words into an essay. Five words I have never heard of. Five unfamiliar words that humble me.

Successful people have consistently admitted that they fear being discovered as a fraud. My mom scoffed secretly hiding her smile when she first referred to herself as a jewelry designer. And countless other people have confirmed similar feeling.

As with anything in life, there will always be people who are better, more talented, more successful than me, and then people who are less so. And then comes the adage of trying my best and striving to improve and blah blah.

Pivotal Points

March 7, 2009

I know this time in my life is pivotal, that I will look at my life as before and after this long winter. I just wander what I want to take from it. Will I wish that I did more or less of any one thing? And what?

At this point, part of me just wants to pat myself on the back for waking up each day, brushing my teeth at least once sometimes twice a day, making sure my kids are well attended to that asking any more seems outrageous and overly ambitious.

My memories are less crisp and I am sure that I should write some down. I should take more photos of the kids but I misplaced my camera. I’m behind on my scrapbook, but I’ll catch up.

We’re not giving away any of my mom’s items now but all of her clothes have been removed from her closet because of a mold situation. Fortunately there is no impetus to make any decisions that we may regret later.

I’m rambling, very tired.

Surprisingly Productive

March 2, 2009

My dad always says that if you want to get something done, ask a busy person. So today, when my babysitter used three excuses to get out of work for one day (does she realize she can no longer use: my kids are out of school today, the trains are not running and my boiler broke to cancel on me?) I thought I might go stir crazy.

She had called when I had the kids out for breakfast. We had weathered the falling snow and icy streets for a 9:30 Gymboree class only to discover that they too have elected to have a snow day. Because Pookie was crying perhaps from the freezing cold we went to the nearby diner where she shoved crayons into her water, ate grape jelly with a stray and shook packets of Equal with as much gusto as any maraca she might have at Gymboree. She climbed the booth and hammed it up for the staff who were happy to have some distractions.

I’m not sure if that set her in a good mood for the day or prepped her for some long naps, but I’m not complaining. Regardless, I was able to plow through some of my paperwork, more than I think I might have even if the sitter had showed. Unfortunately, it was for my mom’s estate and nothing related to my writing or my little business. Oh well, productive is productive and hopefully it will carry over tomorrow when I do have a sitter and errands to run.

The Catharsis of Writing

March 1, 2009

Despite the extremely cathartic aspect of writing, I find it entirely difficult to begin. It’s like going to the gym, motivating to begin is more difficult than the actual work.

My sister insisted I sit down one day and write in my journal. Knowing my handwriting, she thought I should type but I chose the old fashioned way of fancy roller ball pen to paper. And I felt good. Maybe it was because I was out of the house and was not listening to two screaming kids, but I digress.

The memories of my mom are not as sharp as they were say two months ago and I know I should write them down. I know I should document some of the funny adventures we shared (stranded in Cuba, anyone?). Perhaps this would conquer the fear of the memories fading.

As life gets slightly easier each day, guilt sets in. I know my mom would want me to move forward and live as fully as she did, even until the end. She wants me to finish my book. And I want to complete the novel. And at a certain point I am going to run out of excuses.

But at this moment, I am still mourning. There are just so many reminders of my mom everywhere and wish wholeheartedly that she could be here. I remind myself that there is no loophole that could bring her back and it breaks my heart.