It's an "I don't feel like showering, but I have to go to the store anyway" sort of day...
Labels: Photos
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
I may have officially crossed into the realm of pimping myself out. Or at the very least, I have certainly allowed my creative services to be pimped. And I'm not ashamed to admit, I think that I liked it.
I was asked to write an "about me" for someone else. Specifically, it was for a friend...who also happens to be my boss. And the "about me" article was for her online dating profile. And I worked on it while at work, with her giddy, giggling, blessing. So, in a sense, I was being paid to 'get idea's' from other people's online profiles (oh - my - goodness - was that fun) and then try to construct a witty, eye catching profile for her, sure to ensnare Mr. Right (or at least not Mr. Extremely Wrong - which I do worry may be a possibility after seeing some scary profile pictures.)
I also got my first glimpse into the world of online dating, which ultimately became more like a glimpse at how far removed I am from my 'peers.' Not because am married and they're single or because they're looking for relationships online (hello, I am happily married, yet still reach out to stranger's via the blogosphere, because we're human and connecting with other humans is, well, a very human thing to do...) but because these people don't use real words. There are thirty-something's out there using those little text messaging abbreviations that drive me completely insane. LOL. BFF. IDK. (Texting drives me nuts to begin with. Who can press those little buttons anyhow? And why even go through the trouble pressing them when you can just call the person and speak in the time it takes you to send the message?)
In any event, that night I went home and sat down at my own computer and tried to write something, anything, but my brain was acting like sludge. (A side effect of having spent my work hours reading online dating profiles...I think so too.)
In the morning, I finally pulled out something for my friend. Something so sweet and witty and silly that it could only exist in an atmosphere that appreciates the sugarcoated and airbrushed. I worried after I sent it, the same way I worry whenever I'm waiting to hear back from an editor about a story. I worried about wording, pacing, did I make sense? Was it enough? Was it too much?
She loved it. It took her all of a minute to shoot me an email back exclaiming that I rock.
And I thought - really? Is this on a very minuscule scale how it would feel if I 'pimped' my creativity out, if I wrote in the style of some unnamed big author's who have their latest novels everywhere and couch cushions waiting for them on Oprah? Would it be so hard to stop sweating the threads of constructing sound literature (trying to weave the plots and subplots of stories together like threads) - to stop caring so much and just write.
Write fluff. Get paid. And feel...meh? Slightly satisfied to have made someone else happy. Not entirely unhappy myself. A little underused, perhaps. Slightly "I sold out-ish." But, not bad.
Maybe there's room for (some) fluff. Not that I think I could read it myself. But from what this week has taught me, someone else might. And they might even pay me for it.
I was asked to write an "about me" for someone else. Specifically, it was for a friend...who also happens to be my boss. And the "about me" article was for her online dating profile. And I worked on it while at work, with her giddy, giggling, blessing. So, in a sense, I was being paid to 'get idea's' from other people's online profiles (oh - my - goodness - was that fun) and then try to construct a witty, eye catching profile for her, sure to ensnare Mr. Right (or at least not Mr. Extremely Wrong - which I do worry may be a possibility after seeing some scary profile pictures.)
I also got my first glimpse into the world of online dating, which ultimately became more like a glimpse at how far removed I am from my 'peers.' Not because am married and they're single or because they're looking for relationships online (hello, I am happily married, yet still reach out to stranger's via the blogosphere, because we're human and connecting with other humans is, well, a very human thing to do...) but because these people don't use real words. There are thirty-something's out there using those little text messaging abbreviations that drive me completely insane. LOL. BFF. IDK. (Texting drives me nuts to begin with. Who can press those little buttons anyhow? And why even go through the trouble pressing them when you can just call the person and speak in the time it takes you to send the message?)
In any event, that night I went home and sat down at my own computer and tried to write something, anything, but my brain was acting like sludge. (A side effect of having spent my work hours reading online dating profiles...I think so too.)
In the morning, I finally pulled out something for my friend. Something so sweet and witty and silly that it could only exist in an atmosphere that appreciates the sugarcoated and airbrushed. I worried after I sent it, the same way I worry whenever I'm waiting to hear back from an editor about a story. I worried about wording, pacing, did I make sense? Was it enough? Was it too much?
She loved it. It took her all of a minute to shoot me an email back exclaiming that I rock.
And I thought - really? Is this on a very minuscule scale how it would feel if I 'pimped' my creativity out, if I wrote in the style of some unnamed big author's who have their latest novels everywhere and couch cushions waiting for them on Oprah? Would it be so hard to stop sweating the threads of constructing sound literature (trying to weave the plots and subplots of stories together like threads) - to stop caring so much and just write.
Write fluff. Get paid. And feel...meh? Slightly satisfied to have made someone else happy. Not entirely unhappy myself. A little underused, perhaps. Slightly "I sold out-ish." But, not bad.
Maybe there's room for (some) fluff. Not that I think I could read it myself. But from what this week has taught me, someone else might. And they might even pay me for it.
Labels: Myself, pimped, Work, Writing Life
Monday, February 25, 2008
Because I'm always looking for the next best distraction to take me away from writing (procrastination is part of my creative process, I swear, it's not really a bad thing...) I've decided to attempt to do a 365 photo challenge.
So, on the days when I don't post here, I should be posting at least a small glimpse into my day, there.
Labels: Photos, Procrastinating endlessly, Updates
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
It's nice. Today is actually my first day without having to go to work at all, but the past two days I have enjoyed having my children all to myself while working shorter shifts, later in the day.
Today is the first time I've attempted to write something new -- in a long time. I've been stuck in a rut, using the whole 'working two jobs, my husband is out of work, I'm going crazy' thing as an excuse to not be productive. Until I learned last night that another of the stories I've been pimping to a couple of literary magazines has been picked up. Which is great, don't get me wrong. It's a fairly new magazine with a lot of buzz and the selection process for publication was quite competitive. So I'm pleased. But this also means that now I can no longer "waste" time submitting it to other journals.
And so now, it's on the shelf for me. Leaving me with a hole in my day. One less story to try to place. Back to the drawing board, so to speak.
I'd forgotten how difficult this is to do with the kids - fighting naptime and demanding things like diaper changes and lunch. Pshaw.
Even typing this - my daughter insists on squeezing herself between my knee and the keyboard and my son just burst from his room (where naptime has apparently failed...again) demanding a cracker - and now I feel terrible because in response to his plea for carbohydrates and artificial preservatives, I snapped at him with a resounding NO!
*sigh*
I'll be back. Maybe.
Today is the first time I've attempted to write something new -- in a long time. I've been stuck in a rut, using the whole 'working two jobs, my husband is out of work, I'm going crazy' thing as an excuse to not be productive. Until I learned last night that another of the stories I've been pimping to a couple of literary magazines has been picked up. Which is great, don't get me wrong. It's a fairly new magazine with a lot of buzz and the selection process for publication was quite competitive. So I'm pleased. But this also means that now I can no longer "waste" time submitting it to other journals.
And so now, it's on the shelf for me. Leaving me with a hole in my day. One less story to try to place. Back to the drawing board, so to speak.
I'd forgotten how difficult this is to do with the kids - fighting naptime and demanding things like diaper changes and lunch. Pshaw.
Even typing this - my daughter insists on squeezing herself between my knee and the keyboard and my son just burst from his room (where naptime has apparently failed...again) demanding a cracker - and now I feel terrible because in response to his plea for carbohydrates and artificial preservatives, I snapped at him with a resounding NO!
*sigh*
I'll be back. Maybe.
Labels: Myself, Parenting, Updates, Writing Life
Thursday, February 14, 2008
In the past week I have nibbled the dark chocolate off of no less than fifty miniature York Peppermint Patties and then wrapped the white centers back in their silver wrappers and stuffed them in my coat pockets (until I could get home and dispose of them properly...because I was driving in the car while doing this, mind you.)
Apparently, this is what I do when I'm overtired, overworked, stressed and PMS'ing.
Thankfully, I have tonight off of work. My hormonal rage is subsiding and my stress is lowering by the second. Today is a good day. Not just an ordinary sort of sun's out and the sky is clear kind of day - no this is a Who Needs Chocolate? kind of good day. A My Husband Just Got A Good Job, kind of day.
That's right ladies and gentlemen, I'm officially stepping down as bread winner. (And there was much rejoicing...)
Not only is his new job a step up in the hospitality field, but it's about fifteen miles closer to home and no longer in another state (that has been stealing pieces of his paycheck for the past three years, even though we haven't lived there...)
All around, today is something to smile about.
In fact. It's something to pack up and finish your work day early about. So that's what I'm going to do.
Go home. Shower my loved ones with love and just be happy.
It's been while.
Apparently, this is what I do when I'm overtired, overworked, stressed and PMS'ing.
Thankfully, I have tonight off of work. My hormonal rage is subsiding and my stress is lowering by the second. Today is a good day. Not just an ordinary sort of sun's out and the sky is clear kind of day - no this is a Who Needs Chocolate? kind of good day. A My Husband Just Got A Good Job, kind of day.
That's right ladies and gentlemen, I'm officially stepping down as bread winner. (And there was much rejoicing...)
Not only is his new job a step up in the hospitality field, but it's about fifteen miles closer to home and no longer in another state (that has been stealing pieces of his paycheck for the past three years, even though we haven't lived there...)
All around, today is something to smile about.
In fact. It's something to pack up and finish your work day early about. So that's what I'm going to do.
Go home. Shower my loved ones with love and just be happy.
It's been while.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
My son has rhythm. And energy. These two forces squeezed into a three-year old boy's body can only mean one thing: Rain Dance.
The words are really secondary to the stomping of his feet (the right foot in particular) - usually he babbles, sometimes throwing in a noun here or there, say if Lila crosses his path. Suddenly, he's singing about her. Or sometimes he'll surprise us with a solid AMEN! and a resounding clap that would be more at home in the pews of a Southern Baptist Church than in my small kitchen.
Sometimes he tears out across the floor, just as soon as he's stripped down for his bath. This is called the Naked Time Rain Dance. (Can't wait to see the people who will find my blog by searching that phrase...)
Anyway. I warned you that there would be more video's. And so, here is my little Boss-man, chanting something about sitting down in a chair and stomping his way around my mother-in-law's kitchen.
The words are really secondary to the stomping of his feet (the right foot in particular) - usually he babbles, sometimes throwing in a noun here or there, say if Lila crosses his path. Suddenly, he's singing about her. Or sometimes he'll surprise us with a solid AMEN! and a resounding clap that would be more at home in the pews of a Southern Baptist Church than in my small kitchen.
Sometimes he tears out across the floor, just as soon as he's stripped down for his bath. This is called the Naked Time Rain Dance. (Can't wait to see the people who will find my blog by searching that phrase...)
Anyway. I warned you that there would be more video's. And so, here is my little Boss-man, chanting something about sitting down in a chair and stomping his way around my mother-in-law's kitchen.
Sadly, this is the only rain dance that comes complete with repetitive squatting (in such a way that I almost stopped him once during this performance to see if he was trying to poop...)
Saturday, February 02, 2008
You know how it is. Friday night. Midnight, actually. And your husband is playing video games (has been for going on three hours now) so you begin to go a little stir crazy. Maybe camera crazy. And then the next thing you know...
Meh. Oh well. There are worse things I could've done with the past half hour of my life. Besides, I've needed a new profile picture for a while now.
I learned some things while snapping these random pictures. First - I think that I actually prefer these sort of sans make-up (ok, and I hadn't showered either...) late night quick arms-length shots to the type where we try to hard to smile nice and look pretty. And secondly, that if I ever hold the camera above my head, it is impossible for me to take a picture without looking like I'm trying to be seductive...and failing.
In any event - I now have a folder labeled "Boredom Self-Portraits"
(Note, now between taking the pictures, uploading them and blogging about them, I have officially wasted a full hour.)
I wasn't very productive today at work either - something about the day itself had me stuck. Despite all of the mammo technicians in their Patriot get-up's and the shiny football shaped balloon in our lobby (T-minus less than two days until Kick-Off) and the Chinese food that had everyone happy and mingling during their lunch breaks - I was in a funk. Must be the drizzle or the hazy gray skies or the slush that sinks into my sneakers just walking to the car.
It's that time of year again.
Thankfully, for only another month or so.
(At which point, I will have to find other things to blame my procrastination on...)
