The Gamble of Writing

Yesterday I took a sick day from work ... and got to work ... on Twitter.com, that is.  From my deathbed, I searched various hashtags and topics.  I checked out what was trending and worried about why I didn't give a rat's ass about what was "trendy".  Of course I ended up where I belonged, with the writers and poets of Twitter, if only identified by their hashtags.  By days end, I had collected a number of followers and had submitted one of my poems, Measure A Year to #Openlinknight at dVersepoets.com.  I perused other poems by various authors.  Some writers were published and making a living, some made additional income, and some were writing simply because they love to write.  It got me thinking about this blog and what it means to me.  Is it for social media, money, both? Or is it because I have a gift?

I do not like my dayjob - the job I do, because I can't make a living as a writer ... not that I ever tried.  In my 8th Grade Yearbook, my future occupation is Writer, but things happan.  Interests change, goals change, and people change.  When I was a kid I LOVED to write.  I did it well and showed it off and was recognized for my talent.  The magic of words astounded me and the more I played with them and moved them around - the more they moved me.  Of course I will be a famous writer.  The world will see things through my eyes.  People will laugh, and cry, and learn, and feel, and understand ... the world according to me.  They will see that we can all relate to each other, and I will be the one to illuminate this fact.  I can give this gift to society.

But now my audiance sits in silence. Waiting for a voice long gone hoarse. Long gone silenced- by the sheer masses of those doing what I swore I would do. Full of doubt- fear. Fear that my reader will skim and move on. Fear that my reader will laugh and tweet me as a punchline. Fear that my reader will not do anything!! That my words will have no impact- negative or positive. Fear that I will fail. Fail you, and even worse, fail me.

Am I alone???

The "R's" of New Years

In this final week of 2011, many of us are looking back on the year almost past and anticipating the year ahead.  We think about the events that brought us to where we are right now and wonder what will become of us in 2012.  We do our own year in review. So many questions, so many goals, and hopes, and memories to process in such a short period of time, as the clock, ever ticking, brings us to a new year; ready or not.  Ask yourself the following questions, or just the ones that apply to you. Take the time to really look at your life and where the next 365 days may take you ... if you let them.

Review:  Where were you in 2011 - geographically, emotionally, socially, physically, financially, spiritually, professionally? Were you happy? Why? Were you healthy? How? Did you achieve all you set out to do? What changed in 2011? What stayed the same? Who had an impact on you? For better or worse? ... What did we do right? What did we do wrong? What did we hope for? What did we end up with? Who did we lose? What did we lose? Who did we gain? What did we gain? Where did we go? Where are we going?

Resolutions, Revolutions, Reformations, Reconciliations: Once you have a clear snapshot of 2011, you can begin to "mentally photo shop" what you see.  Decide what you want to maintain, change, improve, adjust, delete, or add.  Make a list.  Try to determine if the goals you plan to set are resonable and attainable.  Many people put so much pressure on themselves, that they end up biting off more than they can chew ... don't fall into that trap.  I have heard so many people rattle off laundry lists: "I want to buy a house, a car, get married, change jobs, pay off my debt, quit smoking, run 5 miles every day at 5am, and take 2 trips around the world."  Don't be unrealistic in your expectations, as you may be setting yourself up for disappointment.  Determine how you can achieve each goal ... map it out.  Devise a plan. Set a goal date- deadlines help!  

Rejoice: How do you feel? Hopeful? Optimistic? Excited? Determined? I hope so.  Now get dressed in your best, grab the people you love, find a place to go and get there! Don't drink and drive. Be all you hope to be in 2012!!! Happy New Year!!!

Writer's Paralysis - Terminal Writer's Block

Not so long ago, I wrote a piece that described my inability to write and how I borrowed the quotes of masters to speak on my behalf. At the time, I referred my to selective mutism as "literary laryngitis." I discussed a writing incident that ended in utter disaster, causing a rejection trauma worthy of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Since then, I have had moments of "writer's mania", met by prolonged periods of "writer's depression." My self proclaimed "literary laryngitis" developed into a new phase of writers block- a condition I have diagnosed as "writers paralysis." The mere thought of approaching a keyboard sends me into such a severe state of stuckness, that any hope of transcribing the melodic flow of nouns and verbs and adjectives from my mind to written form is deemed a delusion.

During the course of my seemingly terminal condition, I have searched for the perfect antidote to alleviate this "writer's paralysis", to get those creative juices flowing again, and bring me into "writer's remission." Articles, blog posts, writing websites- I tried them all. Some free. Some paid. Nothing worked. I was approaching the final stage of the grief process- acceptance and then a small glimmer of light sparked brightly on my Iphone.
While cruising for free Apps, I discovered 55,000 Amazing Quotes. It's title speaks for itself. I downloaded it and began my search for inspiration from Poe, Shakespeare, Frost, Thoreau, Whitman, Socrates and Gandhi, among others. Just as I have referrred to Thinkexist.com in the past, this mobile app allows me to learn from them where ever I may be.  Their words, their passion, their style, their ideas- my writing mind began to move again- it just twitched- but enough for me to share the experience with you.

Tomorrow I will look to them again. If only they knew the impact of their words and how much any writer hopes to achieve the same level of acclaim in literary history as they have.

Lessons From J.S.

Life is not easy,
Its what we believe,
Love is not easy,
Its how we perceive,
Nothing is certain,
We cant possibly know,
We accept what we're given,
And further we grow,
We embrace who we are,
We love and we give,
Through hardship and triumph,
We learn how to live,
Life is not easy,
But with faith we believe,
We are better for challenge,
We evolve and achieve,
We find peace as scars heal,
We find hope as we go,
Love is not easy,
Ever stronger from woe.

Regret

I regret to inform you we cannot be friends,

The last friend I lost would not make amends,

It stopped me from caring for anyone new,

And sadly this halts my friendship with you,

There are many people that I'd like in my life,

But that last friend I had severed that with her knife,

So I keep them with caution and hope they dont stray,

But one more too many would surely betray,

As much as I'd like to we cannot be friends,

I'm scared and I'm cautious for how long it depends.

Father's Day

My nephew Jack graduated from Kindergarten today.  I can't imagine him graduating from anywhere - not because he isn't brilliant, but because I can't believe how the years seem to blend into one another and travel at light speed.  When Jack came into the world, life was so different.  It seems like a century ago and his wisdom continues to impress me and leave me in a state of awe.  When I called this morning to wish him well, I told him that I will be visiting my mom on Sunday and hoped to see him too.  He responded, "Aunt Chrissi, Sunday is Father's Day, but you don't have to worry about it anymore, because your Dad died already."

It hadn't even occurred to me until last week as I pondered my options for how to celebrate Father's Day, that the last time I saw my Dad was on Father's Day 2007. He died the following September.  Ironically ... or something, I spent last year with a dear friend and her family who I was very close to.  Unfortunately, it was the last time I would spend a holiday with her Dad too, so I struggle to not adopt a superstition about Father's Day.  So as I fought to maintain my composure and suppress the fit of hysterical laughter that racked my body, I told young Jack that he was right.  For me, Father's Day is a day to remember him with love.  Quite simply, my wise little man agreed. 

This Sunday, I will remember:

Guitar playing

Laughing

Chocolate Milk

Chocolate Malteds

Morning coffee rituals

Marlboro Reds

Being called by the wrong name and happily responding

Half eaten Oreo Cookies on Christmas morning

Irish serenades

The Clancy Brothers and James Taylor's Greatest Hits on Sundays

St. Patrick's Day

The rules of life: never get married, never buy a house, never buy a car, never have kids, never get a dog

And most importantly, being the apple of someones eye. 

 

Hudson River Distortions

Those days now seem a distant memory,

Or maybe I dreamt them,

Or maybe I imagined them, 

As I stared out onto the Hudson,

I remember you were there,

Or maybe I dreamt that you were,

Or maybe I imagined you were

From a rooftop on the riverside

As I stared down onto the Hudson

The waves tried to wash the images from my minds eye,

Distorting what I thought I knew in the murky current,

Leaving salty remnants of a time,

Rinsed away with tears of sorrow,

For what was,

Or what I thought was, 

Or what might have been.

Madoff's Briefs And Weiner's lack Thereof Have Me In a Knot

Back in 2009, my Cavalier King Charles Spaniel was attacked by another dog, who's owner ran away, leaving me with a huge bill for Veterinary care.  Two years later I am no closer to paying down that bill for thousands of dollars.  Many people are struggling.  Many much more than me.  Entire families are homeless.  The unemployment rate is ridiculous.  Health care is not accessible for all Americans.  Frustrated and limping through a brutal economic climate, I nearly lost my mind when I read in the NY Post that someone shelled out $1700.00 for Bernie Madoff's socks and underwear. Seriously? What a kick in the pants. 

For someone as cynical as I am, this is not an amusing piece of news, and for that matter, it is not news worthy at all.  I am tired of news stories like this.  Even as I write this, my Iphone is alerting me to the fact that Rep. Anthony Weiner, who sent dirty pictures to a bunch of woman, has finally resigned from his Congressional seat.  I'm very happy that the American media is so focused on billionaire undergarments and the sexual habits of dirty Politicians, while the rest of us struggle to keep a roof over our heads, maintain employment, access health care, and support our loved ones.  Maybe it's time to take the focus off the skivvies of the rich and the canoodling of our Elected Officials and put it back on the War In Iraq and getting our Troops home, poverty, crime, the economy, health care and the future of this country.  Then again, what do I know ...

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Where Country Roads Lead

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For a number of years I participated in a service learning project through Molloy College, wherein faculty, students, and alumni journey to "America's Third World" - the Appalachian Mountains of Southern West Virginia.  The Appalachia Project, together with the Big Laurel Learning Center in Naugatuck, WV provides (among other things) recreational activities to disadvantaged children living in the Appalachian mountains and hollows of the area.  During the 1-2 week visit, members of the Molloy community are introduced to life in "Coal Country" and learn about it's history, its people, and its culture.




Hatfield McCoy Museum

 When people think about West Virginia, there is usually some negative connotation attached to their association, and why not? What do they know? I was guilty of the same crime, until I became better aquainted with her and felll in love.  Most living in extreme poverty.  All living in a world I did not know exhisted, except as depicted in movies like Deliverance, or as the punchlines of jokes about Rednecks, hillibillies and the Hatfields and the McCoys,  until I arrived to this foreign place and discovered all of its wealth.  The majesty of the mountains that seem to reach far into the heavens, the richness of family and community and tradition. The value of hard work and resilliance, and the fruitfulness of faith - all seeming somehow more preserved there than in other places. 



Mime Tipple at the base of Marrowbone Ridge



Generations of Coal Miners, risking their lives to produce the  essential natural resource.  Some see the profession of Mining as their destiny, to continue a multigenerational tradition. Others, like Homer Hickam, choose the sky instead of the earth.  Hickam was born and raised in Coalwood, WV, in McDowell county and was the son Olga Mine's Superintendent, John Hickam.  The film October Sky, is based on Homer's novel Rocket Boys, in which  he describes life in a coal mining town, as a coal miners son, and his love of rocketry.  Singers and songwriters like Loretta Lynn - The Coal Miner's Daughter, who's love of music brought her from poverty and hardship to fame.  Academics, like John Nash, the Nobel Prize winnig Mathematician and the subject of the Academy Award winning film A Beautiful Mind and atheletes like Olympic gold Medalist Mary Lou Retton - all Mountain State natives. 

The people, the history, the beauty, all peppered throughout the region and the State. Maybe that's the value of economic hardship - personal and cultural preservation and perserverence. 





 







 



   



 





 









Never A Bride

I have made my way down the aisle many times and have managed to stay single.  My method is simple: I am ALWAYS the bridesmaid - NEVER the bride.  Having experienced this privileged distinction, I can honestly say that these hand picked friends and relatives of the bride-to- be do not get the recognition they deserve.  Instead, they get emotionally abused, verbally abused, criticised, generally burdened, and above all, bankrupt.

I selfishly admit that upon hearing the news of a girlfriends engagement, the emotion that I experience following my initial reaction of joy, is sheer terror.  My mind races with excuses.  What if she asks me? How can I get out of it? Why have I been putting off moving overseas?  Is there some terminal illness I may have that will get me off the hook? ... And then we are having drinks after dinner and she hugs me and tells me how much she loves me and needs me to be a part of her special day.  I am drunk and flattered and ready to call it a night, so I say, "I would be honored".  At that moment, in my minds eye, I see the hillbilly roller coaster mechanic flip the switch and in a violent lurch forward, I am stuck on this ride.



Tea & Sympathy
108-110 Greenwich Ave.
 New York, NY



For the next 6 months to 2 years, life consists of all sorts of drama.  Phone calls, emails, text messages from the other bridesmaids, suggesting high tea parties (I suggest we go to Tea and Sympathy and chuckle to myself) to discuss the wedding plans. 

For every event, there is drama.  Debates on venues, gifts, and favors become more complicated that the Lincoln Douglas debates of 1858.  Color schemes, fabrics, strappy vs. pumps, bus or limo, Friday or Saturday, flatware vs dishware, and on and on and on   You know how I get through it? A lot of yessing, nodding, talking behind their backs, and drinking. 

The lovely bride-to-be has morphed into "something" that her best girl relatives and friends never thought she would fall prey to ... a ghoul of sorts.  She cries at the drop of a hat.  She cuts her sister off because poor big sis suggested Lillie's instead of Roses.  She goes to weekly appointments, with her groom reluctantly in tow, to learn about and dissect the art of napkin folding.  She is removed by security at Bloomingdales for causing a scene over bridesmaid gifts.  The bridesmaids are yelled at, manipulated, accused of being jealous or in my case indifferent.   She wants bridesmaid #3  to lose 10lbs and bridesmaid #5 to color her hair to match the hideous dress.  All communication with the bride-to-be consists of statements beginning with: "We like ...", "I want ...", "my parents said they would ...", "She is being a bitch ..."

Notice anything missing from these conversations? YOU.  Make no mistake about it chica, you are just a player in this play, and yes it is a play.  The good news about this perspective is that Mrs. Soon To Be So And So most likely has an understudy waiting to replace you in case you are fired or quit.  From costumes, to lighting, to sound, makeup, props, scenes, scripts, and players.  Where did you think the term "Rehearsal Dinner" came from?  So what are we obligated ladies to do? I don't have a clue, beyond yessing everyone to death and drinking as much as possible.  The good news is that there are websites and forums out there to help us through this ardous experience.  Click away!

Bridesmaids101

Experience Project - I Was A Bridesmaid

On Being A Bridesmaid

Ultimate Survival Guide For a Bridesmaid