Today

Expectant waiting.
That's what I'm feeling today.

I voted before work after standing in a line that stretched out the door and around the block.
People were laughing and smiling.

I wanted to say, "don't laugh! don't smile! don't tempt fate!"

'Cause it ain't over til it's over.

The Morning After

I'd forgotten, or perhaps blocked out, the abject fear that comes from submitting something you've created.

This blog doesn't count. It's nicely anonymous-- I have no idea if anyone reads it aside from a few friends. Friends, it must be said, who have already told me I write well. This is for fun, shits and giggles as it were. There's no one judging this and nothing happens if I don't write for months on end.

Last night, after I'd emailed the essays off to the editor, I fell into a deep panic.

Was it crap?
It was, wasn't it?
Total crap!
Pilfered crap at that-- not even original crap!
I combined 3 previous essays to make that one!
Oh, God!

etc. etc.

And then this morning, a note back from the editor using words like "a marvel" and "thank you so much" and "good job."

And I think, so what if it wasn't prize winning material. I completed the task. Did the job.
It's not, I suppose, about hitting it out of the park each time. Sometimes it's enough just to get on base.

Or, failing that, at least not striking out!

On Deadlines

In college I had a professor who said he assigned term papers to give his students a chance to do their laundry.

That's the thing about deadlines, when you have one you'll do whatever you can to avoid it.

Sadly, my laundry is done. My kitchen is clean and my baseboards shining. There's nothing to do but write the flippin' things.

That's why I'm blogging.

500 words. It's not so many, not so long. This isn't a thesis or even a term paper. I'm 10% done-- I have 50 words written and yet I'm paralyzed.

I haven't had a writing deadline since the spring of 2002. I'm out of practice. I can't churn things out any more. Still, a journey of 1000 miles start with one step, an essay of 500 words with a sentence.

I have to keep my eye on the prize-- the way it will feel when it's all done!

Update: It's 7pm, well, 5 past. I have 138 words. 362 left to go. Say a prayer, gang. Say a prayer.

Update, 2: 4 minutes before 8 and I have 250 words. I'll get to 400 easy, 500 may be a stretch. If I can get it out by 10, I'll be happy. Dear Lord, how do people do this for a living? I'd go barmy.

Update, 2.5: 8:28, 300 words. Yee haw!

Walking Girl

Well the frost is on the pumpkin and hay is in the barn.

Or, rather, the homeless guy is burning trash and the radiators on.

I guess James Taylor lyrics don’t really transfer from the Berkshires to Manhattan. Le sigh.

Indecision 2008

HELP!

I've been afflicted with a terrible disorder.

It's interfering with my life.
Robbing me of my sleep.
Doing away with my appetite.
Making me question my sanity.

I'm watching the prices fall on airfares. $539 return to London. It's fallen $15 dollars since Monday and $49 since Friday.
I'm obsessed with it and have put off buying a ticket.
I'm like Ebenezer Scrouge here.
Ebenezer Scrouge and Hamlet, a combination of the two. A Victorian miser and a Danish prince who may or may not have been insane but certainly couldn't make up his mind.

This is no good my friends. No good.

Do I bite the bullet and just buy the darn ticket, falling prices be damned?
Do I fly into Gatwick or Heathrow?Do I leave bright and early Monday morning (as is my custom) or do I take an afternoon/evening flight and give myself another day?

Please, give me insight oh wise ones. Or just, you know, make the decision for me!

Immature

Several years ago, round about my (first) junior year of college I had the strangest dream. I dreamt that all the families for whom I baby-sat got together and gave me a child. They presented it to me, faces beaming, saying, “we know how much you love children, and how upset you are that you can’t get pregnant. We decided to give you a baby.”

I remember the feeling of panic, of thinking, “yes, of course this is what I want, but not now. Now is not the time.”Of course, what I said was, “I can’t have a baby now! I get drunk on a regular basis!”

Clearly articulates my position, no?

There seems to be a bit of a baby boom happening. The Clinton D. Kemps, The Devin L. Burgesses and, of course, The Mary-Knight T. B. Youngs (Mr. David B. Young), are all pregnant.

Babies, they’re on my mind.

Last night, I walked home from the gym. At the grocery store I realized I didn’t have my keys with me. Oh, and my roommates weren’t home. So, I did what any normal person does in such a situation:I entered my apt building through the restaurant downstairs.I went to my downstairs neighbor’s apt and climbed out her window and up the fire escape. Yes, that’s right, I climbed into my apt through the fire escape.

I CAN’T HAVE A BABY NOW! I CLIMB UP FIRE ESCAPES INSTEAD OF USING THE FRONT DOOR!

going mobile

Blogging from my blackberry! Will wonders never cease? Will this prompt me to post with greater regularity? Stay tuned...