Long Hollow

Just Three Things (and a Friday Favorite Photo)

I'll be traveling today, driving miles of highway in my air-conditioned car, singing along to the radio, probably dancing in my seat and drumming on the steering wheel, perhaps swerving off the road to capture something in my camera (because I can do that when I travel alone.)

(Don't worry, Mama I promise I'll be careful.)

But there are three things I want to share with you before I leave...

First...

Have you see the previews for Larry Crowne, that movie with Tom Hanks as a middle-aged college student and Julia Roberts as a teacher? I really want to see it because I've been an "older" student off and on for 20 years. (Currently "off" because we don't have the money right now.) I get the feeling Tom Hank's experience is a little different than mine has been, but I still want to see the movie, because, well, it's Tom and Julia.

Plus I haven't been to the movies in quite a while and I'm craving it. I enjoy watching movies here at home, but there's just something different about sitting there in a theater with that big screen in front of you, speakers blaring so loudly you (hallelujah!) can't hear the couple behind you talking.

Okay, actually I crave movie popcorn. But I really do want to see this movie.

I discovered two bloggers who might make that happen for me, and if not me, then maybe you. If you're interested in winning tickets to see Larry Crowne, then go to MidlifeBloggers or The Fifty Factor and follow their directions. Pretty much, you just have to leave a comment and later a winner will be picked by random selection. I hope it's me. Or you. (And if it's you, I hope you take me with you.)

Even if you're not interested, you should go read Joanna's blog post at The Fifty Factor that leads up to the giveaway. Hilarious!

Second...

This one is for all you movie-loving, screenwriting, film producing readers out there. A few months ago, my creative and multi-talented high school friend Byron Tully, along with his friend Weatherford Bradley, created Indie Friendlie, a site that showcases filmmakers and films who don't have the budgets or marketing departments to get them into theaters. There were a few glitches with the initial site, but I'm happy to report Indie Friendlie is back, even better than before! If you're a film lover of any kind, go check it out!

Third...

You need to go read this post by Gail at Louisiana Belle that I read yesterday. It's a wonderful post about graciousness, as in being gracious to someone even though you'd really rather throttle their neck, based on Gail's personal experience with a certain person. It teaches a great lesson, but besides that, it's an honest and funny post, one of those that will stay with me, especially when I want to throttle someone's neck.

Here's the link: Noreen Update.

Go check it out, but first, take a look at my Friday Favorite Photo of the week...

There are only a scattered few of these stubborn yellow flowers continuing to bloom against the odds. I don't know how long they can hold out, so I chose this photo of one especially bold bloom as my favorite of the week.

Hope you have a wonderful weekend!

 

 

 

This time last year...

"Happy first anniversary, Barbara!" the email said. It was from my Hyundai dealer - my sweet little car turned a year old this month. Wow!

The past 12 months with it have been bliss - that "new car" smell is long gone, and I don't wash the dirt-road-dust off of it every week, but it's still a baby to me! I give thanks for it (and the air-conditioning) every day!

That email triggered a nostalgic button in me - I dove into my archives, straight back to August 2009. (What I like about having a blog is going back in time, taking a look at my life as it was, seeing what's changed, what's stayed the same.)

I discovered some things haven't changed... there were posts about my friends and their birthdays, about rain and drought, about Tom hurting his back and working on the house anyway, about our anniversary...

Some things were a little different: last year we moved TG (previously known as "the Girl") into her dorm and had to adjust to an Empty Nest as she started her first year of college; we also helped Daniel get settled into his very first apartment in preparation of his 3rd year.

This year we moved TG into another facility (no photos or details - that privacy thing, you know) but she and I managed it by ourselves. No help from the guys, just a couple of sorority sisters.  I've had to adjust to not having her here with me again; we spent almost every day together this summer - working, going up to the college, our Wisconsin vacation - and I miss her, I admit it. But I also admit that I have a little more freedom with my schedule again, and yes, I like the taste of that! But it's only sweet because I know she's in a good place doing what she needs to be doing.

Daniel stayed put in the same apartment. He's starting his senior year of college. That statement just hasn't sunk into my brain yet...

But in my reading, I came across some big differences from last year. Bittersweet changes. This time last year I was outnumbered, gender-wise, on my morning walks. It was me, Max, Charly and Frankie. When I see those photos, my heart aches. Granted, I knew my time was short with Charly even then, and not knowing how old Frankie was, or how long guineas live, and knowing he had enemies lurking around every cedar tree, I knew I had no guaranteed time with him, either. I think I did a pretty good job of appreciating the time I had with them. But I still miss them.

Now I'm in the majority on our walks: there's me, Belle and Haley from next door usually joins us. Max, the eternal puppy, is now the minority. He's suddenly an old man, with gray whiskers and a visible limp all the time. Remember Walter Brennan's Grandpa Amos character on the Real McCoys, years ago? Kinda like that.

Not long after he adopted us about 6 years ago, he was diagnosed with ununited anconeal process, a type of elbow dysplasia. I remember reading when he was first diagnosed that it could cause lameness by the time a dog is 6 years old. That seemed such a long way off back then, and with the unimaginably expensive dog food and supplements we gave him, he bounced back just fine, pouncing and playing like a puppy, with no sign of elbow pain.

Until we got a puppy. Playing with Belle exacerbated the inflammation, but I can tell from the way he grins at her and continues to play that having that puppy around gives him so much joy, it's worth a little pain to him. And so I have no regrets about getting Belle.

Yes, what a difference a year makes.

Then...

And now...

Another change is in me - a lack of focus on my book. I was struggling even back then, but I had more determination (and admittedly, more time) to spend on writing it. It's my own fault I have less time, though. Yes, I'm working more hours in a 'real' job with a paycheck I can depend on, by necessity, because we need to pay off these college loans and bills. But I also allowed myself to become addicted to photography, joining FlickR and starting a photography blog on the side! What was I thinking?

No, I don't really regret it. Today my Morning Moon photo was chosen as a FlickR Explore photo and I got such a euphoric rush from that! (If you're not sure what Explore is, click here to go to my photography blog where I'll try to explain.) Along with the drums, it's a part of myself that I'd been holding back, undeveloped, for a long, long time.

But I still want to write this book. I'm still determined to write this book. And all of the others I have swirling around inside my head. Reading my posts about it from last year just gave me the push I needed to get back on it.

Charly helped, too, remembering these lessons he taught me about balancing it all that I think are worth repeating:

Keep doing what you enjoy as long as you are able.

Hang out with a younger crowd sometimes - they won't let you get too settled.

Be patient and tolerant with that younger crowd even when you're tired and grumpy.

Be curious and eager.

Lead by example.

Take naps.

Show affection.

Receive affection.

Be compassionate and share your blessings.

Don't roam too far from home, or at least remember the way back.

Accept treats and show gratitude.

Have a sense of humor.

Accept other species - look beyond your differences and find common ground.

Be bold and brave.

Be loyal.

Trust.

Look for adventure every day.

Don't be afraid to get dirty, but be careful you don't wade in too deep.

Enjoy the sun in your face and the wind in your fur.

If you stumble, just catch yourself and keep moving forward.

Run if you can, but walking is good, too (if that's all you can manage.)

 

Thanks, Charly. I miss you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

One Weekend, Two Theaters, Tons of Talent

I can't believe I forgot my camera. I can't BELIEVE I forgot my camera. I CANNOT BELIEVE I FORGOT MY CAMERA!

That's all I could think about when we arrived at One World Theater Saturday evening for the Linton Mancilla CD Release Party/Concert. As soon as we pulled into the parking lot of the Tuscany-Meets-Texas-style villa perched on a hillside in Austin, I thought, oh, how gorgeous... I want to get a picture... and that's when I knew... I just knew without even looking in my purse: I had forgotten my camera.

I probably started twitching, and as soon as we entered the room, I glanced around in a desperate hope that someone had an extra camera they would let me borrow... oh, yeah, what are the odds? I even started asking around. People were probably elbowing each other, pointing at me, noting the crazy look in my eyes.

I'm sure I felt the same ache a smoker feels when she taps her pack and only stray flakes of tobacco fall out, teasing her. Got an extra cigarette, mister? How about a spare camera?

Persistence pays off, though. Turned out, Lunchbox the the bass player had a camera (his name is Larry but they call him Lunchbox and I have no idea why) but he would be on stage and couldn't use it. So not only did I score a camera, but I would be doing someone a favor by taking lots and lots of pictures!

I have no idea how the photos turned out. Probably not very good - the theater was dark except for spotlights on some members of the band and there was a no-flash rule, and I was using an unfamiliar camera. But I blissfully shot away, making sure I snapped several of Lunchbox.  I love digital.

Even though the concert photos are probably nothing more than blurry shadows and light, I did get some good ones of me and Liane, and a few of Alan "Bones" Davis, another friend of ours, who played the pre-concert show in a better-lit room downstairs of the theater.

I hate to complain, but the camera I snagged was a pretty simple point and shoot. Soon after the concert started, I spotted a hefty Nikon right on the front row. When it was over, I slipped the photographer my email and blog addresses, begging for some of his photos to post here. (Tom didn't even get my contact information until our 2nd meeting! But then, I don't think he showed me his camera right away.)

Oh, I guess I should mention how wonderful the concert itself was! Jim and Eric are the framework of Linton Mancilla, but on any given Friday Night Hootenanny at Jim and Liane's house, there are half a dozen other gifted musicians, and many of them played with the band Saturday night, coming and going on and off the stage. Saxophone, penny whistle, mandolin, violin... even Bones on the harmonica, blending with guitars, keyboard, drums into an eclectic collection of songs... jazz, rock, latina, folk.

Afterward, we climbed the backstage stairs up to a walled terrace that was caught in the beam of a full moon to soak up the view of Austin and hang out a bit with the band members and other friends. What a glorious night! 

Alas... no photos from the concert have popped up in my email from Lunchbox or David (Mr. Nikon) but I do have this one of Jim serenading us at a Cub Scout campout at Inks Lake years ago...

Needless to say, when I left my house the next day, heading back into Austin to Hyde Park Theater for a reading of my friend Amory's play, I made sure my camera was snug in my purse.

I had never been to Hyde Park Theater or to a play reading - two new experiences at one time... very exciting! And I hadn't seen Amory since our screenwriting class ended over a year ago. But I know from her updates on Facebook that she's been busy writing... at least two screenplays and this play, plus a short film and I can't remember what else. So much talent and drive! Did I mention she's also an actress?And so cute to boot!

 

I'm not sure what I expected, but I admit the theater surprised me. It's much smaller than its website implies! It didn't look like much from the outside, except for this one fantastic typical-Austin-painted wall, but when I stepped inside, I knew it was all about "theater"... as perfect for plays as One World Theater was perfect for musical performances... small, intimate seating, focused on the stage.

It was déjà vu, the play reading... just like sitting in class with some of us reading the parts and then commenting/critiquing afterward. Except here, the readers/actors sat in chairs in a row on the stage, and stood up when their characters were "on stage". 

The play was great. The actors were great. And it was all free! Mostly, I feel so fortunate to have been there, to be able to be a part of the process of Amory's play. I can't wait to see it produced... because I have no doubt someone will pick it up and produce it. It's that good. And I'll be able to say, I knew her when... 

  

Happy Anniversary, Long Hollow!

It's hard to believe, but today is the second anniversary of my blog!

I'm hanging out in a college computer lab, passing the time until the Girl gets out of her hours-long summer Physics class. I'm her chauffeur since we're down to just two working vehicles; the other 7 or so are just for decoration. (Just teasing, Tom!)

I wasn't sure I could use these computers, so I didn't come prepared to work on my book. But I will next week! Even though I haven't taken classes in over a year, my old ID still works, so here I sit getting caught up on e-mails, Facebook, my Flickr group and blogs (mine and the ones I follow but haven't had time to read lately.) Hmmm... I have a feeling I'm not going to mind this chauffeur gig one little bit!

Out of curiosity, I took a trip back through my archives to find my Very First Blog Post Ever, appropriately named "Finding my voice..." and (surprise!) I saw that I wrote it on June 3, 2008. Perfect timing!

It's weird, though... I barely remember writing that one. The ones I traveled through to get to it, also written that June of 2008, are still pretty fresh in my memory, but that first one... all I can remember is being so nervous about putting my words out there in Cyber-land that I'm sure my fingers were shaking as I typed. I knew hardly anyone would be reading it, but still, inside it felt like a game of True Confessions, like I was baring my soul, exposing myself as someone other than what people expected me to be (and not in a good way.)

I wasn't sure how the whole Blog thing worked or even what I wanted to say. So I just said what was on my mind. And that's how it started...

(On a sad note, I noticed that tomorrow will mark the second anniversary of Frankie's friend Ruthie's death. I just hope I never have to write a post like that one about Frankie.)

Loose Ends, Apologies and Clarifications

I owe my kids an apology. I implied in XOXO Nina Barbara that they were slackers in the Mother's Day department. I didn't intend to, but nonetheless, reading back over it now, I understand why my sweet Tommy slipped a pressed flower into the card he sent me with a note explaining "I couldn't let Nicole out-do me, so here's a flower."

It's a pretty little flower, but the gesture was totally unnecessary; he, Daniel and the Girl chipped in for something I've been yearning for ... another pair of Chaco sandals. I splurged on a pair in Gruene two years ago (our anniversary served as the excuse that time) and have practically worn them out. Chaco Flips don't look like anything special, but they fit and support these old aching feet of mine perfectly ... and match my wardrobe! If you have plantar fasciitis, you need to try a pair. Trust me.

Thank you, sweet kids!

I also felt, after writing yesterday's post  about the hospital time warp, that I should mention all of the wonderful caretakers we met there ... the nurse who scrounged up a pair of scrubs pants to make my dear one more comfortable ... the emergency room doctor who thought outside the box when test results weren't fitting together ... the admitting surgeon who did all he could to avoid surgery, covered all the bases and seemed reluctant to let us go without knowing for sure what it was ... the "mother nurse" who came by to visit, to answer questions and put my dear one at ease about the potential surgery and ended up inspiring both of us with her story: she suffered a stroke several years ago - wasn't supposed to even be able to walk again - and decided life was too short to not go after a passion. She took a class in making jewelry and started a business.  Scrambling for a name for her new business, the perfect one hit her: MySCAL (My Second Chance at Life). She wore an example - a beautiful fused glass pin. 

Some other loose ends ...

*At the Texas Music Awards in Marshall last weekend the Shake Russell Trio won Vocal Group of the Year. I still believe Shake should have also won Entertainer of the Year, but I'm happy the group was at least recognized. Click here to see all of the recipients.

*My sister sent me this link about Guinea Fowl after my last post about Frankie and his strange behavior. If you're a Frankie fan, you should read it. It turns out, they mate for life and can die of broken hearts. Poor Frankie.

*Don't forget BlogHer has these fantastic give-aways where, just by commenting on a post, you're entered into a random drawing for hundreds of dollars in gift cards. I have one on my reviews/contest blog right now! Click here and tell me who in your life is the yin to your yang for a chance at a $100 Visa gift card. The contest ends June 3.

*As if taking care of my family, working, blogging, writing a book and practicing my drums weren't enough to fill my spare time, I've joined a Flickr group - "The Blog Camp 365 in 2010 Project."

What that means is I'm taking photographs, playing around with the editing, and uploading one to the group page every day. Oh, and I'm looking at everyone else's photos, commenting on them and learning tons and tons about photography while I'm at it. I'm trying to figure out how to add a link to my "One-A-Days" on this blog, but for some reason, I just haven't had time to do it yet. Keep an eye out for it, but in the meantime, I'll just post a few of mine here ... 

  

 

*The latest edition of my missionary friend Jeannie's newsletter arrived this week. In it she writes "...without electricity I eat cold food, take cold showers, have no internet or TV - in short, nothing in my house works but my cell phone, which I keep charged up, just in case. I also shower at night if I have electricity, to avoid a possible cold shower in the morning if there's no power. I've learned to do things at a slower pace and to adjust to a life with uncertainty." She goes on to say "... we're in what's called a false winter here. That means the weather is acting like the rainy season, even though it's a month early. Farmers have to decide whether to plant now or at the traditional time. They're both risky, but they have to make a decision. Many are out of food provisions for the year and an early start means they will have food sooner, if the rain keeps on. If it doesn't, the newly sprouted corn will dry up and die and they will lose this year's crop..."

I've tried getting her to convert her newsletter into a blog format, but she has too many she needs to mail it to. Plus, she's kinda busy ... So I'm trying to figure out a way to post her newsletter on my blog, just to help get the word out about her work. Keep an eye out for it, too!

*And last but not least, I spotted this on the news this week - a 94-year-old woman earned her college degree. That means there's still hope for me!

     

I'd Like to Thank...

I'm kind of an award-aholic, as anyone who knew me in high school will tell you. Unfortunately, I don't think I've won any awards since "Miss Deer Park High School 1977"...until this week, that is! Now I'm the proud recipient of the Kreativ Blogger Award, thanks to Jill at Elemental, my dear. Thank you, Jill!

I really do feel honored - there are some very, very creative blogs out there (including Jill's...you need to check it out!)

As part of this award, I'm supposed to reveal seven not-so-well-known things about Me...a bit of a challenge because I think I've already told way more about myself than anyone really wants to know!

But with the help of my man Tom, I've managed to come up with seven that I might not have shouted out to the world yet. Although I probably have. Here goes, anyway (drum roll, please)...

1. Even though I'm technically right-handed, I deal cards left-handed.
2. I've been to London, Paris, Rome, Venice, Florence, Innsbruck, Saltzburg and Madrid...but not Los Angeles or New York City.
3. I've never broken a bone...never experienced wearing a cast covered in colorful signatures and smartass comments.
4. I have an ancestor who fought in the Battle of Hastings in 1066 (this one sentence reveals I'm a genealogy nut and a history nerd.)
5. I have a license to drive a forklift (long expired, of course.)
6. I have eaten on a tugboat.
7. I love full moons and the smell of campfire smoke.

And now here's a bonus trivial fact about me...I have college credit in Fire Fighting! Here I am way back in March 1979 at the Lamar University Fire Training School in Beaumont (I know...we all look alike. I'm the one on the nozzle.)

Now I'm going to pass the award along to four creative blogger friends who I enjoy reading regularly...their blogs never fail to inspire me, challenge me, make me think or make me laugh...

Annie Lockhart

Gina Calvert

Lynn Lowrie

Pete Grassow

Tag, you're all it! Spread the love!

Feeling the Squeeze but Holding on to the Dreams

On the local news this morning I heard there was going to be a meeting tonight at the University of Texas - an open meeting between students, parents and administration to discuss a potential tuition hike.

Funny...I wasn't invited.

I receive a newsletter from the University...a newsletter from the Parents' Association...and I'm on the email list for the University President's new blog, Tower Talk. If any of these mentioned the meeting, I didn't see it.

It's not that I would be able to attend, anyway. After work I need to come home and write...trying to gather all the pennies I can to pay those monthly financial aid loan bills and gambling on writing a best-seller to pay off all the loans, once and for all...and possibly pay for my own college classes.

Tom can't attend - he's gone twelve hours a day as it is and when he comes home, he helps with the housework and then on the laundry room...still determined to finish building this house we started almost a decade ago.

We're still chasing our dreams because we don't want our kids to give up on theirs.

But I hope there is someone there who can speak for us...the ones who make just enough money that the only financial aid available is a semi-low interest loan, but not enough to pay the tuition otherwise, and not enough to pay for four years of college x 3 kids worth of loans without drowning.

Will someone speak for those of us with above-average, hard-working kids who are good at a lot of things, but not necessarily the best at anything?...who don't excel at one thing enough to qualify for a scholarship?...who aren't part of a minority, so can't qualify for a scholarship?

I wish I could be there so I could explain that we don't live extravagantly - it's not that we have the money and just choose to spend it elsewhere. We have one car payment - the first one since 1988. Our kids don't have their own cars, used or otherwise. They were the last ones to get cell phones and personal computers (high school graduation gifts.) They don't mind hand-me-down clothes or shopping at Goodwill. They've never even been to Disneyworld, except the oldest who went for a high school band competition years ago.

In fact, I've never been to Disneyworld or on a cruise or to Cozumel.

Don't get me wrong - I don't resent these things - they are sacrifices I made knowingly and willingly when I chose to be a stay-at-home mom, and they were worth it. But what I didn't expect was for college tuition to be out of reach - even at the public level. We couldn't afford the Texas Tomorrow Fund, but we thought the kids would be able to work enough to pay for it...gather some scholarships...perhaps go in the military if necessary.  They are working...they did gather some scholarships...the military option is out because of asthma...but I'm wondering now if they'll even be able to finish if the tuition continues to climb.

It's all I can do to stop one of them from dropping out even now - he wants to save us money and thinks he'll go back on his own, later. As a college-dropout myself, still holding on to that dream of finishing "one day", I just can't let that happen.

If anyone goes to that meeting tonight, will you please speak for us?

Saturday Snippets...the End of a Week

Ah, we're such bad "parents"...here we are on the coldest morning since 1996 - it got down in the teens last night - and we had barely a spoonful of seed left for Frankie's breakfast. I gave him a couple of nuggets from Max's canned dog food to tide him over - he loves those! He attacks them like big bugs...so fun to watch!

Daniel brought seed home on his lunch break from the hardware store where he works and we'll try to do a better job keeping a full seed jar for the poor guinea from now on.

The wave of winter actually washed over us early yesterday morning...the wind whipped into my face during our morning walk and the sun was a mere bleach spot on a gray flannel sky.

But this morning the wind disappeared and the sun shone bright...by lunchtime it was already back in the thirties - warm enough for our Saturday walk and, without the wind, even too warm for my knit cap and gloves!

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Our oldest son Tommy is here for the weekend. We won't get to see much of him - he's here to attend a friend's wedding (a friend from high school and his first college roommate...it took awhile, but I'm finally getting used to the idea that they are old enough to get married...)

Last night we had a little bit of time with him, watching movies and visiting, and I'm pretty sure we'll have time with him again tonight. I'll take whatever I can get. We've seen him more the past two months than we had the rest of the year combined, but I can't think of anything else on the calendar-horizon to bring him our way for quite awhile.

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The first step in a project is always the toughest, isn't it? One of my goals for the next two months is to Sort, Clear and Organize, inside and out of this house; I've been thinking the best place to start is the laundry room, where all kinds of junk landed when we moved in for want of anywhere else to put it. Usually just the thought of it all exhausts me, but I woke up determined to get started.

My determination probably would have flitted away with the day, but I happened to mention it to Tom. Lo and behold, he had been thinking it was a good time to finish that room himself - as in the walls needed to be sanded, texture applied and then painted. So we teamed up and cleared out the junk! It wasn't as dramatic as I hoped...essentially we just moved the wire shelving from the laundry room to the middle of the hallway between the boys' rooms and the television room downstairs...I couldn't part with much of the stuff and still don't know where else to put any of it, so the shelves are filled with the same junk, more or less. Still, at least I went through it and reminded myself of what's down there. It's a start...

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Thursday night was all football...Longhorns vs. Alabama. It didn't end the way I hoped or expected, of course, and I feel so bad for Colt McCoy (click here to watch his post-game interview...he shows a lot of class in response to a ridiculous question from a reporter...I mean, come on...how do you think he felt?)

We did our best to support the team...we ate Tex-Mex (fajitas, courtesy of our friends who came over to help us cheer them on)...Conni and I covered ourselves in burnt orange and Longhorn bling...but it just wasn't enough, I guess. Next year...

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It's always a bit of an adjustment having the kids home from school...more laundry, more cooking, more noise. But I can honestly say I'm still enjoying it and I think I'll miss them when they head back to school in a week or so.

When their classes start, mine does, too: Novel Writing Part II. I'm ready to jump back into my great-great grandfather's story and finish fleshing it out on paper. My primary goal is to get the first draft finished, but I'm optimistic that once I finish it, it won't take long to run through it a second time. I think at that point I'll feel confident enough to start sending out the first three chapters to agents, editors, publishers...accompanied by lots of prayer!

First things first, though. I've had a request for King Ranch Chicken casserole for dinner tonight and I better get started on it...Mom and Wife first, Writer second. Always.

No degree, but plenty of lessons

As a welder's helper for H.B. Zachry back in 1978, I learned alligator cooked in a welding rod hot box tastes a lot like chicken and that it's important to know who you are and have a tight grip on your values when submerged in a world of loose rules and questionable ethics. I was introduced to and outraged by the reality of extreme racism and, when the women in the tag shack wouldn't let me use the restroom in their trailer rather than the stomach-turning port-a-potties because I was one of the "workers", I experienced the disdain of discrimination. (I also learned how to go 10 hours straight without using the restroom.) 

As a plant technician (chemical plant operator) for DuPont, USI, and Quantum Chemicals from 1978 through 1991, I realized I could learn anything if I put my mind to it. I discovered true friendship isn't restricted or limited by gender, age, race or religion. I learned public speaking from giving first aid classes. I learned the importance of going to the source of information rather than just taking someone's word on a procedure, especially when there was hydrogen, carbon monoxide or propylene involved.

When my body went into automatic at the sound of a fire alarm, I realized the value of preparation and practice, practice, practice. I witnessed male chauvinism, but learned to speak up for myself, maintain a good sense of humor, and to do my best even if no one acknowledged it. I learned it was possible to change others' attitudes. I memorized the words to almost every pop song recorded between 1950 and 1970, thanks to long nights in the lab listening to the oldies station, as well as snippets of the Cherokee language and Viet Nam culture and history, thanks to co-workers.

As a new mom working 12 hour shifts, I learned I could manage on little or no sleep. I learned that my most important job of all is being a mom, but that I might have to fight others to do the job well. I learned to trust God to watch over my babies because I couldn't always be there.

As a stay-at-home mom, I learned what loneliness means and the sanity-saving value of a call from a friend, a few hours away from home with the girls or volunteering at the school. I learned it's never too late to go back to school, but it's a lot harder once you're married and have kids.

As a substitute teacher, volunteer, and elementary school librarian, I learned that not all teachers are created equal, and that the inside politics of a school district can get pretty ugly. The children are often forgotten and common sense is sometimes only a term in a book.

But as a librarian, having to teach myself from scratch (because the district refused to pay the previous librarian to train me), I remembered that I could learn anything if I had the desire to do so and put my mind to it. Degree be damned! I learned the joy of passing on a love of reading and respect of books to children, of watching the wonder in their faces as I read to them, of seeing the tears in their eyes that matched my own when we came to the good parts.

As an almost full-time writer, I learned the importance of saving or printing out what I wrote when, after months of working on my children's book, the beginning of another book, and several essays and short stories, my computer crashed, taking my words and motivation with it.

There were a few years when I was a juggler - three or four part-time jobs, building the house, raising the kids, volunteering for everything. I learned there was such a thing as too much.

At Juggled Job 1, a part-time whatever-was-needed, didn't-even-have-my-own-cubicle-or-computer for seven years office worker, I learned humility and compromise, and felt again the acute regret of dropping out of college.

It surprised me that I found Juggled Job 2, newspaper reporting, mostly tedious and boring. Maybe that's because I covered the evening school board meetings after working all day, and then sat at the kitchen table, listening to the voices drone on and on and on from my tape recorder while I scribbled furiously well past midnight. I wanted to make sure I got the facts right, especially in this small town and during that conflictual time in its history. However, I also witnessed the power of written words, how they can shine a light on obscured facts and sometimes spark change. I felt the satisfaction of having my words make a difference.

At Juggled Job 3, substitute church secretary in our small church, I learned what multi-tasking really means. I learned more about the Catholic faith, more about humanity, more about invisible heroes, more about true compassion and service. I treasure memories of interesting discussions with Father Joe, the peace and sustaining silence of the sanctuary in the middle of the day, the heartbreaking stories of the St. Vincent de Paul calls - much needed wake-up calls for me, reminders of my many blessings and how quickly circumstances can change.

Juggled Job 4, substitute teaching, was the first I picked up and the last I let go.

Now here I am at 50, a year into yet another new job - just one job for the first time in a long time -  learning about marketing and product naming, search engine optimization, videography, and even autism...things I never dreamed I'd be learning.

All of these jobs were blessings...doors that opened to me when I needed them... interesting jobs, for the most part, that have allowed me to continue learning, whether skills or life lessons.

However, one door remains closed - the one I shut on myself years ago when I decided to "postpone" getting my degree. Even though it's getting harder and harder the closer I get to retirement age for others to understand (and some days for me to believe), I'm still determined to re-open that door and step through it. Someday. Until then, I'll just keep learning any way I can.

Making progress, one word at a time...

The moment comes when a character does or says something you hadn't thought about. At that moment he's alive and you leave it to him. (Graham Greene, Advice to Writers)

No, I'm not at that point yet. But the words are coming quicker...I can close my eyes and pull the world of my story around me, see the events unfold, hear the sounds, smell the smells. I'm not quite a mere spectator, observing the story as it unfolds before my eyes, but I'm getting closer and closer to that point.

It takes practice stepping in and out of a story. I'd much prefer to have a huge chunk of uninterrupted time to just dive in and walk around (remember Burt and Mary Poppins diving into Burt's sidewalk chalk picture? I love the very idea of that!) but my reality is I need to work, not write, for huge chunks of time; I can only spend small sessions in my story - mostly in the evening when my brain is already numb from spending hours in front of a computer. It helps to remember that most of the successful writers first wrote in snatches of stolen time, surrounded by family and noise, or in the quiet hours before their day really started, writing rather than sleeping. It was only after they succeeded that they won the luxury of writing in solitude. And sleeping.

I admit I'm no longer willing to give up much sleep for my story. Cleaning the house? Cooking? Doing the laundry? Yes. Sleep? No.

Thank goodness my teacher is turning out to be pretty understanding. She extended my deadline for the first chapter, knowing I was headed out of town this past weekend. I finally finished it tonight - the first, most important chapter is officially written, all 1075 words of it. Even in this chapter I could see my character stirring, giving subtle hints about where the story should go. I think by this weekend he'll be taking over and together we'll be able to meet the next assignment deadline - three more chapters by next weekend! I think he - I mean I - can do it...

"Every Step I'm Taking..."

I'm a fifty-year-old, perimenopausal woman, clinging stubbornly to decades-old dreams of finishing college and making a living as a full-time writer. Imagine my surprise when I heard a song on the radio that seemed to express all of the jumbled emotions many women (and probably men) my age are feeling - disappointment, discouragement, determination, joy and hope - and discovered it was sung by Miley Cyrus! A sixteen-year-old!  How could a sixteen-year-old sing something that spoke to a woman my age?

Kendall is eighteen, so I completely missed the whole Hannah Montana wave that struck pre-teens a few years ago, and I've just never paid much attention to Miley Cyrus's music, whether she sang with or without the blonde wig. It just wasn't my style. I thought, anyway.

This one I like. I think she does a good job singing it, but sure enough, she didn't write it. Two seasoned songwriters, Jessi Alexander and Jon Mabe, get the credit. Jessi's not as old as me, but she seems to have been working on her dreams of being a singer/songwriter for awhile, too. Even though I like Miley's version of "The Climb", I bet Jessi could belt out a really heartfelt rendition herself. She's written songs for some big names, but has also released her own albums. I listened to a few tracks, and I like them. Maybe this song will give her the attention she needs to reach the top of her mountain.  I hope so. We dreamers need to keep rooting for each other, as we climb.

I can almost see it
That dream I'm dreaming
But there's a voice inside my head saying
"You'll never reach it"

Every step I'm taking
Every move I make feels
Lost with no direction
My faith is shaken

But I gotta keep trying
Gotta keep my head held high

There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be a uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose

Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side
It's the climb

The struggles I'm facing
The chances I'm taking
Sometimes might knock me down
But no, I'm not breaking

I may not know it
But these are the moments that
I'm gonna remember most, yeah
Just gotta keep going

And I, I got to be strong
Just keep pushing on.

'Cause there's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be a uphill battle
Somebody's gonna have to lose

Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side
It's the climb, yeah!

Keep on moving, keep climbing
Keep the faith, baby
It's all about, it's all about the climb
Keep the faith, keep your faith, whoa

Playing Teacher. And Student.

My first class is behind me, thank goodness. I really didn't know what to expect, even though I'm the teacher as well as the student.

Actually, I didn't know what to expect because the teacher-me still hadn't quite figured out how it should go...

Should I spend the entire time writing? If so, how much and/or for how long? Will my writing goal be based on chapters-per-week, or should I make it so many words a day?

And what about reading? I really should review some of my writing books, and then there are all of the historical reference materials I've gathered...should I include time for that during "class"? I could call it the "lecture".

Or should all of my reading be considered homework?

Sigh. 

By the time class started, I still hadn't ironed it all out, but I knew I couldn't waste time worrying about it. I would just start writing.

And wouldn't you know...it took two agonizing semesters, but my writing mentality seems to be thoroughly set in "screenplay" mode now. For months the biggest obstacle I faced in writing my screenplay was 'too much detail' where I didn't need it. The kind of detail that goes into books, but isn't necessary, and in fact, gets in the way of a screenplay. I had to cut, cut, cut.

Now I've got to work my detail-muscles back into shape - characters, setting, etc. And I've got to jump out of the present-tense back into the past.

What was I thinking? Why did I think I should switch from screenplay to novel?

No, I still think it's the right decision. My old habits aren't gone - just tucked into one of those folders stacked on the desk in the library. And it's good for my brain to have to switch back and forth - it'll keep those gears turning smoothly, and (I hope) make me a better writer all around.

By the time class ended tonight, I had read over pages and pages of story notes from the past two semesters, waded back into the facts and mused about the parts in-between that I get to make up, typed, deleted, typed, deleted, and finally managed to churn out (almost) a whole first chapter.

It's not much, but it's a start. I've spent three months away from the story, and I'm surprised how much I've forgotten. I'll need to spend almost as much time reviewing and researching as I do writing at first, and it's easy for me to get lost in the research. I love stepping back in time, following other trails that are fascinating but have nothing to do with my story. Now that I'm really limited on time, I'm going to have to keep a tight rein on myself and stick to searching only for relevant information and not get carried away, especially now in the beginning when I just need to get the story down. 

And I know, before too long, I'll once again be lost in this story. My characters will remember me...they'll forget their shyness and take over the telling. Then I'll be able to step aside and just type.

"Writing is like hunting. There are brutally cold afternoons with nothing in sight, only the wind and your breaking heart. Then the moment when you bag something big. The entire process is beyond intoxicating." - Kate Braverman

 

Finding the Right Balance

Something about the start of a new school year always fires me up - I find myself making resolutions, setting goals, and getting organized as if it were New Year's Eve!  I think about starting projects that have been pushed from season to season and ultimately ignored all year, as if I have to get them done right NOW!

Maybe it's leftover from childhood, this excitement, this sense of a new beginning. No matter what went wrong in the previous year, a new school year was a chance for a fresh start.

Right now I'm mostly fired up about my Number One Goal - writing my book. My "class" starts tomorrow, so I've been trying to straighten up my "classroom", which means sorting through all the crap that has accumulated around the computer and the piles of odds-and-ends on my desk in the library (it's just a door on sawhorses, so it makes a great place to temporarily put things that are then promptly forgotten.)

I've come across at least four books I started reading this past year, napkin-bookmarks waving at me optimistically from quarter points. When was the last time I finished a book? I really can't remember. That's another one of my goals: read more. I'm determined to finish ALL of these books. Maybe one night a week I'll set aside just for reading...

Two of my mother's photo albums are sitting on the desk...I brought them home with me several months ago, intending to scan all of the pictures, return them and bring back two more, and so on, until I had them all saved in my computer. One of those summertime projects that just drifted along, in no hurry to be done. I bet if I spend thirty minutes or so every evening after work, before I start writing, I could get them all scanned in no time...

On the other side of the library four big boxes are stacked against one wall, and several plastic bins. It sure would be nice to move those down to the storage room, but it's already so full...boxes and boxes of arts and crafts supplies, dress-up clothes, and no telling what else ... all summer I've been meaning to get down there and go through all of the boxes to see what I need to keep and what can be tossed...maybe...

Focus, Barbara!!

Well, it's clear I'm my own worst enemy. I'm going to have lots of distractions, even with the kids out of the house. I can't just ignore everything else around here - obviously, I'm going to have to find some kind of balance, and that if I want to have a completed novel under my belt by the end of this semester, the balance will have to lean toward my writing. Wish me luck! You can see I'm going to need it.

"...as it should be."

TG is really and truly a college student now, surrounded with college and all things college-related. By the time I got home from work yesterday, she had her things packed and ready to go. She had even tidied up her bedroom!

Daniel and his friend Austin met us at her dorm and helped us get her moved in, showed her the right way to swipe her ID card to get into the building, gave her bits of advice and answered questions her dad and I couldn't.

As evening settled in, we took a break to treat the kids to pizza and hoagies at the Mellow Mushroom on the Drag. Before finally heading back home in the empty van, leaving my baby girl behind, alone because her roommate hadn't yet shown up, we unpacked a few boxes, made her bed, and stocked up on hugs and kisses.

It was a long, quiet ride home, heat lightning flashing silently around us...home to a house now empty in a totally different, weird way.

So what the heck was I thinking today?

I decided to watch a movie while I worked out - I've been a slug for a week now and didn't feel quite up to Trainer Ted's standards yet. I chose something no one except Tommy would agree to watch with me lately, and he was just being sweet: "Mary Poppins." (Tommy even agreed it's really a good movie, or at least better than he remembered - he caught all of the adult humor this time. If you think it's just a kids' movie, you need to take another look! It's really very funny, has great acting and timing...it's one of only a handful of movies that I think is better than the book.)

But, really, what was I thinking? It's tells the story of someone who becomes very attached to the children she is taking care of, only to have them stop needing her. The ending scene shows how they have totally forgotten all about her! You don't have to be a psychologist to see the significance of my choice!

I realized all of this as I was clicking through the previews, but I decided to watch it anyway. At least the first thirty minutes or so, when they clean up the nursery, one of my favorite scenes - wishful thinking, probably. ("Just a teaspoon of sugar helps the medicine go down..." is actually a bit of sound advice for my present situation, I think.)

And then I fast forwarded to the end scene...the one where the kids are happily flying kites and singing "Let's Go Fly a Kite" (that song always made me cry even when I was little for some reason - a premonition, perhaps?) and Mary watches them wistfully and shushes her umbrella when he talks about how ungrateful they are because they've totally forgotten her, and she just smiles that little smile and says "That's as it should be."

She's right, of course. And I know it. This is how it should be and what I've worked for since the day they were born. So I ended up not crying, even during "Let's Go Fly a Kite," because I realized I'm actually happy and excited for TG as she starts this new adventure of her life.

Besides, I know from my own experience, and with Tommy and Daniel, that she's not really "gone". She hasn't forgotten us, and as time goes on, she'll appreciate us even more than she does now.

Wise woman, that Mary Poppins. 

The van, loaded and ready to roll...UT tower...Austin, Daniel, TG on the Drag, as it should be.

For now, anyway.

 

 

Uncertain Skies...Reminders of a Year in the Life

"Barbara Inez...just what have you been up to? I mean I've already been gone a week and I'm sure a lot has happened..."  "...Barb, I hope you get your tail in gear and get up here to see me. It's just beautiful..."  "I've always loved that song "You've got a friend" by Carol King and it fits us perfectly..." 

I found these words last week in a yellow and orange scrapbook filled with ticket stubs, letters, newspaper clippings and other relics of 1977. They're from Ann to me, from Utah to Texas, 32 years ago. 

So much has happened recently that reminds me of those years. There was Kendall's high school graduation and eighteenth birthday, and then this morning Daniel moved into his first apartment. I didn't move into mine until 1978, but events in 1977 pushed me in that direction.

This morning's sky held gray clouds that hinted at rain, but also patches of sunshine-filled blue...just the right balance of uncertainty and hopefulness for Daniel's move-in day and the beginning of a new chapter in his life...living off campus with his own bedroom and a roommate who's future also hinges on how this semester goes. 

 Sunshine prevailed - no rain fell to ruin his furniture and clothes packed tight in the back of the truck. We need the rain, but I was grateful for sunshine today. I hope it portends a semester with a happy, sunshine-y ending. I keep hoping my kids learn from my college mistakes - I want them to hang on, bounce back, keep trying.

As if moving Daniel into an apartment wasn't enough, today we bought a brand new car!! Specifically an apple red Hyundai Elantra. It's the first new car I've owned in almost twenty years...the first compact car in more than twenty. I admit - it's scary. But we couldn't afford to NOT take advantage of the government's Cash for Clunkers program. We doubled our money on our old black truck after abusing it for five years...AND we have a full warranty. It was our early anniversary gift to each other - for me, a new car...for Tom, freedom from working on my car.

But it also reminded me of 1977...the year of my first new car - a Toyota Celica GT Liftback - and Bad Company's "Burning Sky" on 8-Track.

1977 was my first real 8 to 5 job...Stephen King books...Star Wars...Ted Nugent...Bad Company...Kiss...Eagles...South Padre on the 4th of July with Ann, Jena and Carey...a week with Ann at Utah State when I found out my parents were getting divorced...a feeling that I was lost, falling, drowning.

1977 was University of Houston... scholarships and chemical engineering...and days driving to Galveston, sitting on the seawall , too overwhelmed by the thoughts swirling in my head to worry about school...

1977 was an intense year  - one of more highs and lows than any other in my life. It was almost my last...

It seems ironically appropriate...almost too coincidental, as if it was written this way for a movie...that the autumn night I returned my Homecoming Queen crown was a night I decided there was nothing in my life worth living for. It wasn't a conscious, premeditated thought...the idea had never even crossed my mind before! Rather, it was an impulsive, depression-fueled-by-alcohol action, followed by "Oh, my gosh, what have I done?" In that instant when it was almost too late, I realized that no matter how bad I thought things were, I wanted to live.

I guess that's all God needed - I had turned my back on him a year or two before, but he hadn't forgotten me. He sent angels to watch over me and rescue me that night, and later, my sister's tears washed the remaining dark clouds from my brain - the ones I had let slip in to distort reality. It broke my heart to know I had hurt her and the rest of my family. I'm ashamed now to admit I let such piddly little obstacles break my spirit. I'd like to say I was much stronger than that. But I had forgotten the source of my strength, and when my other moorings were broken, I floundered.

Looking through the scrapbook reminds me how weak I really am, by myself. I shared my experience with my kids years ago, hoping it would be a reminder to them that no matter how bad things get, as long as you're breathing you have hope...you have a chance to change things...and that no matter how badly you screw up, God is standing by, ready to pick you back up if you just ask.

On the practical side, I've also warned them not to drink when they're depressed. I think everyone has up days and down days - that's just normal. It's human. But alcohol magnifies those dark clouds - it keeps you from seeing that there is still blue sky peeking from behind, and that soon the clouds will pass on by. I still have those days myself, but instead of trying to drink my sorrows away, I write my sorrows...pray my sorrows...love my sorrows away.

Back in 1977 I felt like all my friends had scattered and I was all alone. But looking through the scrapbook I see nothing but familiar faces and names...faces and names that for the most part are still a part of my life.

Ann, of course...we still write each other (only it's in e-mails or Facebook messages), talk on the phone, dance, even wrap houses. Mark, my boyfriend's little brother, who I felt was MY little brother. Tamara...another constant friend who had a birthday this week. My sister Brenda, whose tears woke me up. My parents, who taught me about unconditional love. They worked things out and remarried after four years - another example that you should never give up. Randy, who has popped in and out of my life over the years...a friend who helped me remember there were good things about my 1977 self...things worth dusting off and protecting. I have him to thank for encouraging me to stubbornly stay in school and turn back to writing.

   They have all faced much, MUCH bigger challenges, setbacks, obstacles, disappointments, sorrows than I ever have ...yet they haven't been broken. Every day they inspire me.

I shared my story just in case it helps someone else who feels like they have screwed up too bad or too often to ever make it right, or that they don't have anyone who cares about them so "it doesn't really matter..." I thank God every day that I'm still here...I look at all the blessings I've been given - my husband, my kids, my family and friends...and today, a new car! We may never realize what our lives mean in the whole grand scheme of things - we can only trust that they do mean something, and try to do our best with what we are given... We have to make sure our lives make a difference somehow.  Never, ever think it's too late. Never, ever take them for granted.

A Texas Night...Stories and Music Under the Stars

    Using my cell phone as a flashlight, Tom and I followed a dirt trail through oaks and junipers. A string of lights blinked at us through the boughs - a beacon in the darkness. I couldn't believe we forgot a flashlight. Or that I had worn my flip-flops. But we still worked our way up the steep rocky driveway to our friends' house and found the trail that led to the rustic stage they built in the woods on their property. Jim's a musician (Linton Mancilla) and each Friday night this summer they've had an informal jam session, open to other musicians or music-lovers. This past Friday night was the first chance we've had to go!

    But why didn't we hear any music?  Only voices filtered through the trees to us. I understood as we stepped into the clearing...our friend Larry Waddle sat on a stool in the front-center of the stage, talking about his book West to Trust - answering questions, explaining how he got this idea that just wouldn't let go of him, so he had to write it. Oh, yeah...I understood that feeling!

    He read from his book, a novel set in the South and Texas during the Civil War. He has the perfect voice for it...full of rich Southern Twang, well-polished from his day job as an auctioneer. It was fun sitting there under the stars and trees on a hot Texas night, Larry's words drifting around us about a family deciding to come to Texas for a fresh start. It had another affect on me, too...

    ...a night or two before this, I caught the tail end of a television interview with J.K. Rowling (creator of Harry Potter for anyone who's been living under a rock the past ten years.)  She was visiting the small apartment she lived in while writing the first book, sharing her memories of that time and her thoughts about writing. I could feel inspiration flowing straight from her into me, like a rush of adrenaline pumping up my imagination. I needed to get back to my fiction writing! But how, between work, the house-husband-kids-critters responsibilities, and another college class in the fall, and still have time to sleep?

    Listening to Larry just set my brain-wheels turning faster. I just had to figure out a way! And then it hit me...rather than take a real class this fall (I needed to save the money, anyway...), I'm going to form my own "writing class"...complete with syllabus, reading and writing assignments. And STRICT deadlines. I'm going to be really, really tough on myself - no excuses! I know it's the only way I'll get it done - and this way Tom can still nag me about my homework!

    As if in celebration of my decision, and confirmation that it was the right thing to do, Jim and Eric (the other half of Linton Mancilla), took over the stage for the rest of the evening, accompanied by members of the audience and other musicians. Both of them had been playing around with music on the side for years before coming together in middle age to fulfill dreams of one day recording and performing their own original compositions. Just more inspiration that it's never too late to keep chasing a dream!

        So wish me luck - and feel free to nag me! In fact, PLEASE nag me (but only every once in a while!)

Larry and his audience...

 

Jim and Greg...

Eric in action ...

Not Quite a Screenplay, but...

        ...it's more than I had at the beginning of the semester. What I turned in last night resembles a screenplay in the same way a lump of clay resembles a sculpture; I still have a LOT of work ahead of me. But...I did it. I twisted and tucked and pruned my great-great grandfather's experiences into a beginning, middle, and end.

    It seems ironic that I will probably receive one of my worst grades for this class, considering I probably learned and accomplished more in it than in most others I've taken. I was surrounded by such gifted, creative, interesting, humble, open, honest, motivated people who were willing to share their knowledge and experience with everyone else. And it was fun! We laughed so much! I really didn't mind missing all of the episodes of "Lost" (especially after I figured out how to use the DVR and record them!)

    Although I'll miss spending hours with these people every Wednesday, I admit I'm relieved it's over. I am totally exhausted. The last two weeks I've had headaches popping up every 4 to 6 hours or so, and now it seems I've broken out with an "A-Typical" case of shingles. (Thankfully, the a-typical symptoms are lack of severe sensitivity, flu-like aches and pains, and fever.) I think I just need to rest for a while.  

  But not for too long. As soon as Kendall crosses the stage with her diploma in a few weeks, I'll be back at it, pounding, nipping, and tucking at that mound of verbal clay stashed in my computer. I'm determined that one day I'll really be able to call it a screenplay.

Texas, 1850 to 1920...

 

...give or take a few years. That's where I'll be the next two weeks, if anyone is looking for me. My screenplay deadline is growing large...and hairy...with fangs dripping blood...and huge sharp claws...and...okay, that's enough. But it is starting to resemble a gigantic monster that can only be appeased by (many) more pages of screenplay than I have written, and if I don't produce them by Wednesday, May 13, I fear I will be eaten up.

    So I have no choice but to dive head-first into my great-great grandfather's world, only coming up for emergencies like writing overdue thank-you notes, work and paying bills, TG's soccer games, and a friend's 50th birthday party (give me a break - those are important, too!) Maybe a blog or two, for therapy, or a glance at Facebook and emails, just to check on folks.

    But I will try not to stress out about the ticking clock, dwindling groceries, dirty house, overflowing laundry, flat tires (that was my Monday this week), issues with friends, family, kids, or animals. Please excuse me for being selfish.

Now, here I go! Wish me luck!

Does it seem foggy in here to you?

    Okay, this morning I realized I'm too old (that's right, I said it!) to function for very long without adequate sleep. Theoretically, it seems like a great idea, and it's worked for me in the past: skimp on sleep, use the extra hours to write or take care of whatever else is screaming for attention at the top of the to-do list that I'm just not able to fit into my day otherwise.

    But what happens now is I wake up feeling like my head is filled with marshmallow creme and I'm trying to walk through waist-deep water. I can't focus long enough to accomplish much...my mind just drifts along on the surface of the water, carried along by currents here and there. I fight sleep at work and my eyes burn trying to read my classmate's screenplay. My face is drooping...sagging...I worry it's going to melt right off!

    I guess I'm going to have to dump all the rocks and sand out of my jar and start all over trying to find a way to fit them all in. One of the first and largest (after God, family, and friends, of course) is SLEEP! I'm bumping it back to a full seven hours somehow, someway. Taking St. Louis de Montfort's advice (below), I'll fit as much as I can around those largest stones, and just won't worry about the rest. (Wish me luck...again!) Goodnight!

"What God wants of you - is that you should live each day as it comes, like a bird in the trees, without worrying about tomorrow. Be at peace and trust in divine Providence and the Blessed Virgin, and do not seek anything else but to please God and to love Him."

Never Give Up...Never Surrender

    There's that old saying..."an uncluttered desk is an uncluttered mind"...or something like that. It must be true because last night I stayed up late sorting through the pyramids of paper on my desk and serving bar (that's where the mail and all the extra stuff I pull out of my purse and work bag lands), sorting and tossing accordingly, and whaddaya know, at 4:15 AM (sipping my morning coffee after four hours of sleep), a lightbulb finally illuminated the maze I've been stumbling through for months as I've tried to figure out which direction my screenplay was headed. After dozens of false starts and confusing leads, it has finally clicked. Yeah, I know I've said it before, but I really believe it this time! It's like I'm standing above the maze looking down, finally seeing the path I have to take, thinking "I can't believe you couldn't figure your way out of this before!"  

    It's not a moment too soon, either. The sand in my screenwriting hourglass is getting dangerously low. I've come up with a new strategy to give me more quality time for writing - work more hours Monday through Thursday (at WORK, that is) so I have at least one big chunk of day home alone to focus on the screenplay. It's so hard to sit down at the computer each morning and start settling in with the story again, only to run out of time just when I'm getting comfy.  It takes a while for me to step in and wrap my head around the story and the characters, see where I've been and remember where I was headed. I never make much progress - many days I end up just erasing what was done the day before.

     Tom thinks I just try to do too much every day - specifically he thinks I should just quit blogging and checking Facebook or email. (Funny, he never says anything about laundry or grocery shopping or feeding the dogs or paying bills...To his credit, he helps me out with all of those and half of the cooking, too...)

    I figure it would only save me about...hmmm, an hour a day, sometimes two, if I ignored my social media addiction. Still not enough - especially since that hour is spread out into fifteen minutes increments throughout the day. Just filler time. And what he doesn't realize is that my mind is much like my desk - crap piles up and I have to sort through it, get organized, before I can focus on writing. 

    Of course, what it boils down to is I don't want to give them up. For years when the kids were small, I didn't have time for friends or writing the way I do now. My screenplay and my class are VERY important to me, but so are my friends, my extended family (I'm in better touch with them now, too), my 'journaling' and photography. If you've seen that email about the professor lecturing the students about priorities - "put the big rocks in the jar first (family, etc.) because if you fill it up with the small stuff, you won't have any room left" - imagine that some of my big rocks have gotten smaller, making room for these other big, pretty rocks I've rediscovered.

    Two other big rocks I'm hanging onto are my morning work-outs and my prayer walk with the dogs and Frankie - you gotta take care of yourself, physically, mentally, and spiritually. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, amen.

    I have reluctantly let some things go from my routine to make way for more writing time. I gave up reading for fun ages ago, settling for boxes of books and dreams of warm afternoons, lying in the hammock on the front porch, lost in the pages of one someday. And my drums...well, I won't even claim to dust them off much anymore, much less play them.

    Recently, I resorted to watching the silly episode recaps of "Lost" on Facebook - they're annoying, but faster than watching the whole episode on the computer (I discovered the timer on our DVR doesn't work and no one is home to start it recording.) I've totally given up on "The Office" and "Desperate Housewives" (unless I time the laundry just right to fold during that time.) I'll just catch up on those this summer.

    So as difficult as it will be, and at the risk of annoying Tom, I'm determined to write this screenplay and STILL (sort of) keep up with this blog and my friends' lives on Facebook. I'm going to spend this coming weekend celebrating my birthday (again) with dozens of friends - some I haven't seen in twenty years or so. I'm going to keep working out and walking the dogs and putting in more hours at my job and avoiding late charges on our bills and emailing friends and commenting on Facebook. I probably won't post any new pictures - well, maybe new ones, but not old ones that I have to scan in first. I'm going to watch movies and read for my class. I'm going to spend time with Kendall, watch all of her soccer games, gather old photos for the senior power point presentation for her graduation (and probably cry over them.) And somehow I'm going to find time to sleep. I can do it!

"Never give up! Never surrender!" (from "Galaxy Quest" - great movie!)

Acting Up - A Night in Vegas

    Last night I was drunk in Vegas, getting suckered in by a sidewalk hustler, even putting my football team on the line. I guess I should make it clear I was playing a part in my classmate's screenplay, having a blast getting into this middle-aged pushy tough guy character. I had two other parts to read, but this was my favorite.

    I can see why people want to be actors. You get to act in ways that would be totally inappropriate otherwise. It's so liberating and...well, fun!  Just watch some kids playing 'let's pretend..."

    I loved acting when I was in elementary school. I don't think I was very good, judging by the fact that I never got a very big part in our class plays. But I loved it - the costumes, the stage, everything.   In kindergarten I was a clown. Second grade, a sugarplum fairy ballerina (the only purple one - my mother didn't get the message that we were supposed to be pink. I can't remember how I felt about being different. I bet I didn't like it at first, but my mother was able to convince me that it made me special. She's a great mom that way.)

    In fifth grade I played an Italian watermelon salesman. I wore a white shirt and a fake mustache. I still remember my lines: "You busta my-a watermelons! You lonkahead! You imbecile!" I got the part because I had memorized and recited a poem named "Leetla Giorgio Washeenton" by Thomas Augustine Daly for the class (with a near-perfect Italian accent, I'm sure.)

    Our teacher, Barbara Haygood, bribed us with a star chart to memorize poems. You got different colored stars depending on the length of the poem. I'm not sure why, but this just clicked with me. I memorized dozens of other long poems printed in our worn 1957 edition of  Favorite Poems Old and New (I have it sitting beside me right now - I keep it handy - and I see the names and pages of some of my favorites jotted in the front in my ten-year-old handwriting) just to see the shiny colored stars accumulate under my name on the chart:  "Annabel Lee", "The Land of Counterpane", "A Visit from St. Nicholas", and "Tidings of Great Joy" (the Christmas Story from Luke), among others.

    I have trouble remembering where I put my keys most days, but I can still recite "Little Boy Blue" by Eugene Field (so can my sister - we do it for fun pretty often), and most of "One, Two, Three" by Henry Cuyler Bunner. Look them up if you need a good cry.

    Anyway, something happened between then and high school speech. I was mortified to get up in front of people. My biggest regret in high school is not taking part in our senior play - Lil' Abner - but there was just no way I was that brave.

    I encouraged my kids to participate in theater. None of them had a driving passion, but they enjoyed it. They weren't mortified, thank goodness. And I'm relieved I've gotten over my fear. It's so much more fun without it.

    I'm even considering taking an improv class that one of my classmates is teaching in a couple of weeks. That would be a HUGE step for me. For now, I'll stick to playing drunk gambling big shots from the safety of my school desk.

The Day After

You know how, when you start a new workout, or add something new to whatever you're already doing, and the next day you can feel it...you can feel those new muscles screaming in pain when you walk up the stairs, bend over, or even sit on the toilet...and even more when you try to stand up again?

But you know it's a good pain...you know you've just torn down the old muscle so you can build it up again, stronger than it was before, right? You knew when you started it you'd be sore - in fact, you hoped you'd be sore, so you knew you were doing something, achieving something, changing something.

That's how it is for me today, the morning after my screenplay was the one under the class spotlight. Microscope. Red ink. Knife. 

Last week I was nervous about my turn getting closer. This week, I could hardly wait.  Not because I thought I'd get a lot of complements or an ego boost. No, I knew better. I knew it would be ripped apart, and I looked forward to it.

I haven't even written anything new in over a week. I've been waiting for this feedback, so I could see what I was doing wrong, what I was doing right, and where I should head with it from here. That's how much I trust my classmates...respect their input and honesty. I know they're going to help me get better.

They didn't disappoint me. There were a few kudos thrown in, but mostly the critiques were blunt and to the point. It was tough to hear sometimes, but I knew it was for my own good. I've watched other classmates defend weak areas in their screenplays, so I bit my tongue when I felt myself preparing to do the same. I didn't want anyone to hold back!

If they had been softer on me, I would have been worried - it would mean they didn't take me seriously as a writer, or that they didn't have any hope of it being improved upon. Instead, I got specific, sometimes brutal, advice. And it felt GOOD!

Not everyone agreed - some of the conflicting advice I received I'll have to weigh out and decide for myself what works the best. But just having this chance to brainstorm on my script with people who know what they're talking about (yet who obviously still sometimes struggle with writing a script themselves or they wouldn't be in this class)...it's just an amazing experience. 

 Now...I need to get back to work.

Is Longhollow in Narnia or Oz?

    According to our friend's GPS program, our house doesn't exist. No matter how he typed in our address..."Adrian Way", "Adrian Boulevard"...it said there was no such place. I knew we lived in a beautiful place...even magical at times...but I guarantee it's not Narnia or Oz. Our mail gets delivered, for goodness sakes. Granted, it's put in a mailbox a mile from our house, but it's to our address. I wonder why Bob's GPS (and also Netflix, by the way) thinks it doesn't exist?

    No big deal. I just gave Netflix my friend's address and picked our movies up there. And I told Bob he could call for directions on Friday before they head over here. Sometimes the old-fashioned ways still work. 

    Highlights of this week...

    One of my favorite shows is CBS Sunday Morning. If you've never watched it, you should. The stories are always well-done and interesting, but this past Sunday was really good. I'm always getting ready for church while it's on and get bits and pieces, but I had to pull up the kitchen stool and sit still for a few minute while watching a couple of them this week. One was about Abraham Lincoln- there's a new book out about the REAL Abraham Lincoln, his evolution from racist to the President we're all familiar with.

    The other story was about books, one of my favorite subjects.  Specifically, about bibliophiles...people like me who collect more books than they can read in a lifetime, just because. I've included it here...if you're a bibliophile, too, you'll enjoy it...

Watch CBS Videos Online

    Monday was a dream...a day of solitude, reserved for research and writing. Except for a little Facebook time in the morning (lots of good writing wishes from friends), a couple of emails, and one phone call, I was very disciplined and used my time wisely. I have finally twisted my mind around the story, understand my character and have a concrete idea of how to proceed with my screenplay. What a relief!

    Tuesday...Kendall needed a blouse for a Woman's Club luncheon tomorrow (scholarship opportunity), so we headed out shopping. I took a book to read while she shopped, determined to maintain my discipline and 'using time wisely' momentum, but, alas, Macy's had their knee-high boots on clearance...the very ones I've been wanting for several years but refused to pay full price for or make a special trip to the mall for when they were previously on sale.  I decided I could live with the guilt, and so, despite my proclamation of tightening the belt, they're sitting in my closet right now. I love them.

    Also Tuesday (last night)...Tommy called. A line of severe thunderstorms had passed over his house - the tornado siren went off, and thank God he did what he was supposed to do - hid in a closet under the stairs. This is my son who used to drive to a nearby hill during thunderstorms because he loves to watch lightning flashing all over the sky...also the one who, several years ago during a tornado warning, kept saying "I want to see a tornado! I want to see a tornado!" and so sure enough, while we're stuck in traffic with the storm passing over us, we see a tornado off to our left sucking up bits of houses from a neighborhood, then pass through a debris-littered intersection near a demolished grocery store, and once home, on the television see several square miles in a small town near us, Jarrell, that have been totally wiped out, scraped clean. So you can see why I was relieved he had the sense to get in the closet this time. They do grow up, don't they?

With Classmates Like These...

...my screenplay will either withstand the ripping critiques and emerge an award-winner, or crawl away to the 'to-be-shredded' basket. The few pages I submitted are still way down the line on the reading list, but as they get closer and closer to the front, I'm getting a feeling similar to what it might feel like in front of a firing squad. I'll have to remember to wear a really thick skin when my turn comes and keep in mind that the criticism I receive will just make my screenplay better. But I'm tellin' ya, there is no mercy in that room. I found myself squirming last night, and it wasn't even my screenplay under the microscope.

At least the comments and critiques are coming from some voices of experience (there's CC Stinson, Amory Casto, and Tom Booker to name a few - I googled them because...well, I'm just really nosy!)  I realize more and more how lucky I am to be in this class - like a screenwriting gold mine! (see a short starring Amory here and more Tom below - see if you remember any of these commercials...)

Living

    "The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing, and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares." (Henri Nouwen)    

    I wanted to go to a funeral today. I wanted to be there for my friend, to comfort her and to honor her sister's life. But I couldn't - I had to work - we need the money and my boss needed my help - and the amount of driving I would need to do on the little amount of sleep I've been getting would have been irresponsible. Another friend went for those of us who couldn't be there, made sure Tamara knew the hug was from all of us...but I still wish I had gone.

    Some people think there's no point to funerals. Some believe their presence doesn't make a difference. I don't LIKE funerals, but in those times when I've lost someone I love, the funeral has helped me face my loss, dust off my memories, and say goodbye. And seeing a friend silently sitting nearby has always helped me get through it. In my mind, and in my heart, I can still picture Tamara and some other friends where they sat at my brother Buster's funeral. They didn't know him. They were there for me.

    Funerals also honor, even celebrate, the lives that have passed from this earth and remind us that each of us still has a life to live, a job to do, a chance to be who ever it is we are supposed to be. A chance to love each other, which includes comforting those who have lost someone.

    They also remind us that one more day might be all we have on this earth (maybe that's why some people don't like them.) 

    Years ago at my Grandfather's funeral, I sat by my weeping Grandmother. They had married as teenagers...worked, lived, laughed, and cried together for decades. In my Christian zeal and youthful ignorance, I almost chastised her for her tears..."Isn't he in heaven now? Shouldn't you be happy?"

    It has taken me years of love and loss to understand the source of her tears. She was going to miss him - his voice, his touch, his laugh, his smell (to me, he is cherry tobacco.) She wished for more time. Now. It doesn't matter how old they were - I'm sure they had plans for the next week, month, summer.

    I think my friends and I are too young to be losing our parents, much less our brothers and sisters..or each other. Of course, we're not too young - it just feels like we are, because you can never be ready for it.

    We can just "do now, do now, what you will wish to have done when your moment comes to die." 

    So I continue to pray, worship, love, dance, cry and laugh. I will write, practice my drums, and work on my degree, God willing, but if my time comes before I'm published or can play "Stranglehold" or get my diploma, I won't feel like a failure...unless I quit trying.

    "I could not, at any age, be content to take my place by the fireside and simply look on. Life was meant to be lived. Curiosity must be kept alive. One must never, for whatever reason turn [one's] back on life." (Eleanor Roosevelt)

A Week of Surprises, Struggles, Celebration, Sorrow

    This has been one of those odd weeks that has zoomed by and yet simultaneously seemed to last forever. Weather-wise, it started with fog, which made way for ice, but ultimately the sunshine won out.

    Emotion-wise, it's been a week of highs and lows as well.

    At the end of the week, like a glowing beacon, a mini-high school reunion loomed. A bunch of us planned to meet at a club in Pasadena to listen to one of our 'old' classmates play his guitar and sing with his band (Mission Texas Live.)  E-mails and Facebook messages were flying back and forth all week.

    But...my screenwriting project hung over my head...I'm still having trouble wrapping my head around the best way to tell my great-great grandfather's story. How do you fit a man's life from age 17 to 80 into three neat acts across 120 pages (at the most) - a life that included crossing the Red River into Texas with a wagon train, a life full of conflict including settler vs. native Americans; cowboy vs. horse thieves; Confederate vs. Yankee; life and love vs. death; husband vs. wife; neighbor vs. neighbor; and freedom vs. prison? Where do I begin? Where do I end? What do I include and what do I leave out? I managed to send 20 pages to my teacher at about 2am Saturday morning, but they are pages I wrote last semester - a beginning I've changed my mind about. But it's something, anyway.

    I couldn't let that stop me from seeing my cousins Sherlyn and Muttsy (her name is actually Lugenia, but I've never known her by anything but Muttsy). They drove in from their small town near Abilene to watch Sherlyn's daughter Kenzie's basketball game. She plays for Hardin-Simmons University and they were playing Concordia, which is just around the corner...well, the lake...from us. Yes, I had pages to write, but they're my cousins and they came all this way! And I'm glad I did it...it was a close game and Hardin-Simmons won!

    And there was Tom's truck...it decided it was tired of its needs being ignored and demanded immediate attention Wednesday morning - he had to take off work and tear the steering column apart... and THEN, after several hours of aggravation, when it was in a million pieces, he read online (trying to find information on how to put it back together because the expensive mechanic's manual he bought for it was of NO value) that mechanics usually only charge $100 to fix this particular problem. Live and learn...

    On Friday I learned that my friend Tamara's older sister was in intensive care, from a stroke or aneurysm, and not expected to live. It turns out Marla passed away about the same time I was emailing my pages Saturday morning.  I was still excited about seeing all of my friends - in fact, Marla's death made a reunion with friends seem more important, more urgent. 

    One reason, I guess, is because I had been hoping for a reunion with Marla herself this year - it's the 10th anniversary of our first girls' weekend to Port Aransas...we planned to make sure everyone that had ever gone with us joined us again, and Marla and Tamara were part of that first group.

    But my first trip with Marla was back in high school. All of two, maybe three years older than us, she chaperoned me and Tamara on a trip to Garner State Park at the end of our junior year - our boyfriends had just graduated and their class was heading there to celebrate. (I'm not going to write anymore about this, except to say we had a LOT of fun, and made it back home, safe and sound.)

    The reunion this past Saturday night was a lot of fun, just as I expected. The sorrow I felt about Marla's death didn't diminish my joy at seeing my friends - the sorrow and joy merely entwined each other - existing together, perhaps even augmenting each other by contrast.

    Besides my high school friends, Tom and I reunited with another 'old' friend, David...the best man at our wedding. He had been in the Coast Guard with Tom and they were roommates when we met. For a brief time, we were ALL roommates. But once we moved to Lago Vista, we rarely saw him. In fact, I think it had been over ten years. Ann, one of my matrons of honor (the other was my sister, Brenda) surprised us by flying in from Missouri - so we got a picture of all of us together, 26 years, some gray hairs and a few wrinkles later.

    All of us laughed till we cried, talked, danced, sang, and took tons of pictures (well, my friend Rae did...I forgot to charge my camera...) Several of us shut the place down, and still unwilling to say goodnight, we reverted to high school habits and wrapped a house for old times' sake. Not just anyone's, of course, but one of the guys...one of our friends. He caught us, but was a great sport and let us finish and even take pictures. Now, THAT'S friendship.

    And if that's not enough for one week, an email waited for me when I got home from another person I haven't seen since we moved...Jennifer King Moody. I was in a writing workshop she taught - she helped me with my second essay. But I already knew of her from a wonderful essay she wrote that was published in the Houston Chronicle before I ever started writing..."Bury Me in the Country." It's still one of my favorites...probably the one that inspired me to try writing my own. She had been digging through some old files and came across my name, and on a whim, Googled me. I'm so glad she did!

    That was plenty for one week. I'm hoping this one levels out, slows down, gives me a chance to catch my breath. But judging from today, I don't think it's going to happen...I'll just try to hold on and enjoy, well, at least appreciate, the ride.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Truth According to Kafka

WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS SOME UNJUSTIFIABLE WHINING.   

    "Sidney, uh, how many pages do we need to have done by next week?"
    "Oh, just enough to get an idea of the main character, get to the first turning point, so, say twenty or thirty?"
    (gasps from several of us.)
    "Come on, people, this is a writing class - you should be writing. At least 15 to 20 pages a week! And don't forget - I need your samples before Wednesday so I can read them and make them available to the class beforehand."
    "How early?"
    "ASAP. Now would be good."
    "What's the LATEST?" (ever the procrastinator)
    "Say...Saturday. At the LATEST!"

    So by Saturday morning - actually Friday night since we're going to Houston Saturday morning - I need to have at LEAST the first 20 pages of my screenplay done. Let's see, if you subtract what I already have, that leaves...20 pages. I do have 20 or so pages written from last semester, but I've changed how I want to start it, so right now most of those do me no good. 
     So, okay, somehow, between work, meeting my cousin this evening in town to watch her daughter play basketball at Concordia University (a cousin I only get to see once or twice a year, if I'm lucky), and the usual eating, sleeping, laundry, kids, critters, husband stuff, I've got to come up with the 20 pages by tomorrow night. And after that, I need to churn out 3 or 4 pages a day until it's finished.

    If this was a novelization, I wouldn't have a problem (easy for me to say right now, since it's not a novelization.) But I'm still just getting the feel for screenplays - what to leave in, what to leave out, when to capitalize, indent, what all the acronyms stand for...

"A writer is somebody for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people." ~ Thomas Mann

    It's only been in the past couple of years that I've been able to work out a balance that meets my spiritual, physical and mental needs almost every day. I'm going to have to throw it all out of kilter to get this done. But this is something I want to do - NEED to do - and so I'm just going to do it. Somehow. Some way. And hopefully without losing too much sleep.

    By sheer coincidence (or was it?), today I came across this revelation by Franz Kafka from a blog called Daily Routines: "As he recognized, the truth was that he wasted time."

    The truth can be cruel, can't it?

I Miss READING

    I miss reading just for fun, what I want, and for as long as I want. Right now there are twenty more pages of the third (partial) screenplay I need to read and critique before tomorrow night waiting for me on the kitchen table, and then I need to work on my own, but I needed a break. I remember when I could sit and read for hours, but years of needing to jump up and take care of a million other things, of only having time to read for 30 minutes at a time, makes it really hard to just sit there. Especially when it's not something I would normally choose to read.

    It's funny how college keeps readers from reading. Up until my first run of it, I read and read and read - I had no problem reading for hours and not doing another damn thing. Once I started college, I didn't have time...except for the required reading for history and English. And then I read every book that was assigned, plus some.

    My kids are all readers, thank goodness. That's about all Daniel got in trouble for in school - reading in class when he wasn't supposed to be. He probably read three or four books over the Christmas holidays, cramming them in because he knew he wouldn't have time once school started back up. And he was working eight hours a day, plus seeing friends, during that same time. Kendall keeps a book on the table to read while she eats, and Tommy got to where he wouldn't even start a book unless he knew he had two or three days to do nothing but read because he knew he wouldn't want to put the book down, even to sleep.

    Ironically, chemical plants are great places to work for readers (at least, they used to be...I don't know anymore.) I almost read as much for fun then as I did in high school.  The trade-off, of course, was I didn't have as much time at home with my kids. And when it came down to it, I picked time with my kids.

    I read a lot when my kids were little. Of course, most of the books were only about 10 pages long and there wasn't a lot of plot or in-depth characterization...sometimes not even any words...lots of pictures, though. 

    I didn't have much time to read for myself. I do remember one weekend when Tom and I snuck off to go tubing and camping in New Braunfels - I picked up a copy of the Joy Luck Club at Walmart and just lounged around, reading. That was a wonderful weekend...

    I guess it's all about choices. Now I choose trying to finish my degree and writing in my "spare" time over reading for pleasure - these days when I pick up a book it's got "writing" or "screenplay" in the title somewhere - and I don't even have much time for those, either. The rare book I pick up for pleasure sometimes takes me so long to read (imagine ten minute snatches of my day while I wait in a doctor's office) that it starts to feel like another chore I just want to finish. Or, if it's a really good book, I reach a point in it (usually just past the halfway mark) when I can't put it down, and everyone gets upset because nothing is getting done - no food in the house...no laundry done...you get the idea. The exception is the Bible - a chapter a day. I've read it all the way through a couple of times, fast and slow. I find the best way is in small bites that you can savor throughout the day.

    I like to pretend that one day I'll actually read all of the other books I've collected, but I know better. I'm sure there will come a day when I'll read just for pleasure again, but I'll never be able to lose myself for days at a time in another world like I used to - unless I'm creating it, that is. I've reached an age when I don't want to just stick my nose in one book after another - there are too many other things I still want to experience or accomplish. Like getting my degree, and writing the screenplay, the short stories, the book...

    But...I miss reading, just to read...

Intimidation Breeds Success (I hope)

    For the first time in about twenty years, I don't feel out of place, age-wise, in a classroom. I'm about average, in fact.

    Skill-wise...that's different. There are about a dozen of us in this screenwriting class - actually a workshop - and last night as we went around the circle introducing ourselves and describing our screenplays-in-progress, I realized I'm at the lower end of that scale. There are professional writers, actors, comedians...there's a retired couple who are working on their third screenplay...and it seemed like everyone else had a much clearer vision of their screenplay than I did.

    I felt this exact way before, though, in my first creative writing class years ago. It was also a workshop, and it was clear in the very first class, and from listening to my classmates read their works each week that I was the least talented. It was a tough fact to acknowledge, because I was so driven to write. I had to remind myself that I joined the class to learn, to become the best writer that I could be, even if my best never measured up to the best of others. I stuck it out, got over the fear of reading my work out loud, learned how to detach myself from it so I could improve from the critiques, rather than get defensive and feel hurt. My first published essay came from that class.

    So on the (long) drive home last night, I reminded myself that I was in this class to learn how to write a screenplay, not to compete with my classmates. If I keep an humble attitude and work hard, I'll learn a lot, and have at least a first draft of a completed screenplay at the end of it all...the perfect 50th birthday present to myself!

    

Wednesdays...WHOOSHdays...and updates

    Between now (getting home from work, sipping on a warmed-up cup of coffee to see me through the evening and counter the effects of all the antihistamine I'm having to take for the cedar) and when I need to leave for class, I have about an hour...

    That's an hour to start dinner (only start - I'll get it in the oven and Tom or Kendall will have to take it out), move the laundry around (we've somehow run out of clean wash cloths even though I swear I just did towels), get my bank deposit slip and electric bills ready (ours and the Boy Scouts') for multiple stops on my to the college (I also have to get gas and drop the last Netflix movie in the mailbox.) Oh, and get the DVD recorder set up to record Lost...

    This is a template for every Wednesday for the next three months...rush, rush, rush...but maybe at the end I'll have a semblance of a screenplay to show for it.

Updates...

Yay! Charly is eating again! He's back to normal.

Boo! Forecasters say we're in for another month or so of "cedar fever".

Ah, man! Tom has a couple more tricks to try on Tommy's car, but he strongly suspects we're going to have to just get a new engine (that brings the score to 2 new engines we need - maybe we'll find a special somewhere! Two for the price of one?)

    

A Priority Problem

    I've procrastinated registering for the spring semester, and this is why: the advanced screenwriting class (which I should take so these first few pages don't just turn into dust, untouched and neglected) is an actual physical class, on a campus with traffic issues, parking issues, desks, as well as a teacher and classmates with faces.

    Well, that in itself isn't a problem. Despite the lack of flexibility and extra time required for traveling, I like the feel of a classroom...the camaraderie, the discipline, carrying my books and taking notes. I know. I'm weird.

    The problem is the class meets one night a week, and that night is Wednesday.

    Wednesdays = "Lost"

    And therein lies my dilemma. It's really pretty sad, isn't it? No WONDER I haven't had anything published in a while.

    Of course, now that I've confessed, I recognize that the scales aren't really evenly balanced - this isn't a decision crisis after all. Watching all the "Lost" episodes isn't on my list of personal goals, but finishing this screenplay is, so NATCH!...for the next few months, Wednesdays = screenplay class, not "Lost."

    (They do run the episodes online, don't they?)

Where's the Champagne?

    I feel like celebrating tonight! Daniel checked his grades and he had three A's and two B's!!! He now has a 3.6 average - well, for this semester, anyway. This time last year he was on academic probation, so this is a HUGE leap. I am so proud of him, and happy for him, too, because I know he's been working really hard and he sees that it paid off, that he can do it, that he's capable of doing it.

    And listen to this...at the top of the grade report, it says UNIVERSITY HONORS. DANIEL MADE THE UT HONOR ROLL!! YA-HOO!!

    (I got an A in my class, too, by the way. I found out yesterday. That was a relief, but I'm still happier about Daniel's A's.)

    News from Tommy in Dallas...he rented a Chevrelet Cobalt, I'm sure the absolutely cheapest rental he could find. He had to work late tonight, then go to the grocery store, so he didn't even get home until around 8pm. He was going to do a little more research on which car he should buy. I hope none of this gets in the way of him coming home this weekend...it's already bad enough that I won't see him Christmas Day! (He has that day off, but has to work Friday.)

    I've made a little more progress on my Christmas preparations. Most of my is shopping done - I went with Kendall tonight and I'll finish up tomorrow. I'll write my Christmas newsletter tonight...or at least get started...so tomorrow night I can finish it up, stuff the envelopes and mail them Christmas Eve day. I've mailed them after Christmas before, so I'm actually a little ahead of schedule, compared to other years!   Then somewhere in there I'll bake cookies, wrap gifts...but mostly, I'll keep in mind why we are doing all of this...remembering the baby that was born in the manger so many years ago, for all of us...

Here's another glimpse of a Christmas that seems like yesterday...Tommy, Kendall, Daniel, 1991

If They Can Do It...

    Most people, when they hear I'm still working on my bachelor's degree, are encouraging and supportive. They get it, even when they find out it's not in nursing, which seems to be the #1 middle-age-back-to-college choice because of the need for nurses, and therefore, great salaries and great return for the investment.

    But...every once in a while...I get raised eyebrows, and a "Why bother at your age?"

    I shield myself from such naysayers by thinking of those who have gone before me, paving the way for those of us who flounder when expected to produce practical reasons for persistently pursuing a college degree when retirement age is around the corner. 

    Years ago I read an article in "Parade" about an elderly man in Chicago who had taken at least one college class every semester for, like, fifty years. He already had a collection of degrees, but still he continued, just because he loved to learn. When I first read it, I thought I'd have a degree by now, but made up my mind that I'd follow his lead and keep learning even afterward.

     There are others who inspire me to keep plodding away, like Nola Ochs, the 95-year-old woman that graduated in May, 2007, alongside her 22-year-old granddaughter, and Winifred Jennings, 85, that just graduated from college with a bachelor's degree in behavioral sciences. (She's thinking about working on her master's degree, after taking a year off.)

     I hope I can get my degree long before my 85th birthday, but even if it takes until I'm 95 (if I'm still alive, of course, God willing!), I'm gonna stick with it. I'm not out to set any records. But then, either were these role models of mine. They just loved to learn and wanted to finish what they started years before, just like me.

    Winifred and Nola (and elderly man that just loves to learn), thanks for the inspiration to ignore the naysayers and keep chasing my dream.

Anyone Have Some Cheese to Go With My Whine?

    I totally apologize for my last post. Sometimes I drive myself crazy!

    The truth is, I talked to Tommy on the phone about his new job for almost an hour two nights ago. I've talked to my mom at least twice this week, my sister a couple of times, and three or four friends.

    ...I'm working more hours, but not as many as most people, so I can fit in a college class. I'm able to continue working at the computer while I eat lunch, and my commute is wonderful, so that saves me even more time. And I'm learning interesting stuff, like how to shoot videos and post them on the web, all while getting paid. I've figured out how to put together professional photography lamps and learning how to use them, all on the job.

    ...I'm all caught up on reading my 'real conversation' emails (as opposed to the forwards which are at the bottom of my list), although I admit I haven't answered all of them.

    ...Last night I spent several hours shopping with Kendall, drinking coffee, talking, and night before last Daniel and I started discussing some current social issue (I can't even remember what it was) that led to a discussion about my great-great grandfather (the one I'm writing about), so we googled some historical subjects, including him, which led to the discovery of a post on a blog about him and his memoir! (I emailed the author but he/she hasn't responded yet. I'm VERY curious who this could be...a cousin? a random stranger? I'm suspecting someone that works in the UT library. If they ever respond, I'll let you know.)

    ...I have time to walk the dogs (almost) every morning, and on foggy mornings like this one, when the fog closes in, creating my own little timeless world, that's a double blessing.

    ...I blog here almost every day (sometimes twice in one day!), even though I might let the laundry or mail pile up a little.

    The truth is, I have time, and I'm ashamed about complaining about ANYTHING! I have enough time that I have choices to make on how to use it, rather than have those decision made for me, by others or circumstances or life in general.  All I can do is try to use it wisely - and be grateful for the chance to choose.

New Roads and Special Deliveries

    I took the day off so I could break my procrastination cycle - I drove to the downtown campus and delivered my class portfolio a DAY EARLY! It's a small step in the right direction. I hope I can keep it going...eventually. But for the next few days I'm going to be playing catch-up on everything around here (again) - decorating the tree and the house, sending out cards, going through the overflowing pile of unread mail on my desk, catching up on e-mail...

    On my way into town, I suddenly had this horrible feeling that I was lost - I was on a rode I had driven millions of times, but I found myself in a totally unfamiliar area. It took me a few minutes to realize a new portion of the road had opened. It bypasses a section nicknamed "the S curves", a section prone to serious accidents because people try to take the curves too fast.  After several years and many accidents, the highway department realized there were too many impatient people who refuse to slow down on the curves and so have a tendency to cross into other people's lanes (oncoming traffic, of course) so they built a straight(er) bypass.

    I've had mixed feelings about taking away the curves - I grew up in an area where almost all of the roads are straight lines (and there were STILL deadly accidents) and I actually liked the curves - they seemed like part of the personality of the hills. I had mixed feelings even after Tom was hit head-on and almost killed by a teenager who crossed into his lane on the first curve back in 1998. He had extensive injuries and spent a week in the hospital - he still aches all over, especially during cold weather. I stayed the whole week with him (my third published essay - I'll add it on here...someday.)

    After Tom's accident,  our mayor instigated a change in that particular curve, but it was a good compromise - it was still a curve, but widened and stretched out so that the kick at the end was gone. I don't have an opinion about this new section yet - I was too disoriented to think about it beyond "where the heck am I?" But I have to admit I said extra prayers every time my kids had to drive those 'S' curves - especially if it was raining - so I guess if it really makes a difference in the number of accidents, keeps even one family from experiencing what we went through with Tom's accident, or gives a parent peace of mind, then I'll be happy about the change.

Whew! Twenty Down...Just a Hundred to Go

    It's done. As of 9pm tonight, I completed twenty pages of my first screenplay ever. Next time you go see a movie, never EVER think writing it would be easy. I know, after this semester, I'll never see a movie with the same eyes as I did before.

    Writing this screenplay is something I've dreamed of since I first read my great-great grandfather's memoir years ago. And yet here I was, procrastinating once again. Is there no hope for me?

    I'm still not finished with the class, however. I have to deliver my portfolio, consisting of a hard copy of these precious twenty pages, a complete outline of my screenplay, and a 300 word reflective essay on what I learned this semester ("I learned not to put it off to the last week..." - but would that be completely honest? I'm starting to wonder if I'll EVER learn not to procrastinate!) to my teacher's mailbox downtown Friday morning. I would do it tomorrow, but I'm just not up to writing that essay tonight! (ah, still procrastinating...see?)

    Next semester I'm SERIOUSLY considering taking Advanced Screenwriting. That might seem like a 'duh' statement, but the glitch is it's not an online course. I'd actually have to drive into Austin to one of the campuses, sit in a classroom for several hours, etc...I've gotten so spoiled with these online courses. This semester the online course is Poetry, which I'd love to take. Another class I'm thinking of is photography, but it's another actual "roll call" class, so it's lower on the list than the other two. I'm afraid that if I don't take the next screenwriting class, I'll NEVER have more than twenty completed pages. It will sit in my computer, symbolically gathering dust, like all of my other long writing projects (and even some short ones!)

    I really need to finish SOMETHING! And I would love for this to be that something.

Not Quite All Night

    I threw in the towel at 3am. For the first time in thirty years, I'm probably not going to get an A in a college class, but I reached the point last night when I just didn't care! My eyes were tired and my back hurt. A few hours of sleep seemed much more important.

    I'm just past the halfway mark, though, and have a good idea where I'm going. After Kendall's high school band concert tonight, I'll jump back in and I THINK I'll be able to finish it with another big push...hopefully before 3am...

    And totally changing subjects...this afternoon when I was waiting for Kendall to get out of school, I realized I never took yesterday's mail out of my work bag. I pulled out this month's Reader's Digest - the headline is "13 things no one ever tells you about weight loss." I've been asked so many times what I did to lose weight, and it's hard to answer because it went away so gradually - I kept making small changes, all with the goal of being healthy in mind. Well, this article answers it for me, so if you were asking...go read it.

    Off to a winter band concert...wish me writing luck tonight!!

Just Taking a Little Break...

    Well, I made progress...not as much as I would have liked, but I have a teensy idea of an outline - the scene I should start with and how it will all work out. The problem is there is SO MUCH MATERIAL!! Now I'm thinking it would have been best to turn this into a novel first, but that doesn't really matter right now. What matters is pulling it all into a screenplay in the next couple of days - or at least a part of it - dividing it into three acts, pinpointing the turning points, mid-point, barriers, reversals, climax, resolution, etc. It's easier for me to think of this process of writing it in those terms - first act: outlining; second act: writing it; third act: turning it in (in just a few days!) Some of the barriers: work, family, sleep, laundry, food.

    Okay, also keeping up with this blog, watching "The Office" and "Desperate Housewives", shopping...And then tonight is the church adult Christmas party - since we're Catholic, that means eating, drinking, and dancing, so I'll be too worn out to write when I get home, I'm sure.

    But at least I'm through the first act - the outline. I think the turning point of this second act will be producing the FIRST page! That will DEFINITELY take place today (right after I write this, and eat lunch. I will ignore the overflowing hampers, the bare Christmas tree, and boxes of Christmas decorations stacked around me.)

    Yesterday I took a walk with Tom and the dogs to clear my brain. It was a gorgeous day. Frankie opted to stay home and guard the house, but he walked with us as far as the 'parking lot.' 

    We walked up a nearby hill to check on progress of our neighborhood mystery house. It's built high on the hill but doesn't appear to be built in a way to admire the view - a telephone pole was put right in the way. Rumor has it it's going to be completely underground and have a shooting gallery inside somewhere, but we can't figure out where it would go. There's been no work done on it in awhile - I guess the recession shut it down.

 

    When we got home, Tom left the door open for me, but Frankie got in first and scurried around, checking everything out. He started down the stairs, but I coaxed him back up and out the door. No poop, thank goodness! Hmmm...are there such things as house guineas?

Pushing Up My Sleeves...

    It's time to get serious. (Well, passed time, but it's too late to dwell on past mistakes.) This weekend I'm writing at least twenty pages of screenplay, come hell or high water. I have to - they're due this week and it's obvious I don't have enough self-discipline time during the week to work on it.

    I've already warned Kendall and Tom that I'm not doing anything else, except eating, going to church, and POSSIBLY showering. In just a few minutes, I'm heading into the guest room/junk room/future library, and clearing out a space for Tom to set up a makeshift desk (a door supported by sawhorses) so I can spread all of my stuff out - notecards, the memoir, genealogy notes, Civil War books, etc. - and just leave them there till I finish. I've also claimed first dibs on the computer, which is just outside the "library" door. (Maybe Santa will bring me a laptop so I can REALLY  lock myself away in there to write.)

    That being said, I won't actually get crackin' on it until tomorrow morning. Tonight I'm going up to the high school to watch the drama department's Fall Production. I subbed for those classes and it's always fun to see how the kids pull it together by performance time. 

   When I get home, I'll probably watch a movie with Tom - but of course, if you think about it, that's really just a warm-up exercise for my actual writing tomorrow - a review of what I've learned this semester. Not another distraction or procrastination or anything.

    Wish me luck (and self-discipline and inspiration.) OBVIOUSLY I'm going to need it.

An Anniversary of Sorts

    For the past few weeks, my mind has skipped back and forth from the present to the late 1800s...I've been separating my great-great-grandfather's memoir into fluorescent colors - green is his life from his first step across the Red River into Texas, through the Indian Wars and his cowboy days; orange takes over during the Civil War, Reconstruction, and his two years in prison, interspersed with pink for love and family; and yellow is reserved for the last chapter of his life, when he tried to piece it all back together, finally learning to accept things the way they were and make the most of it.

    I didn't think very much about the colors - except for pink, of course - but I realize there is some significance in my choices. Both green and orange are yellow plus another color, so yellow is a good color for the time in his life when he rids himself of illusions and extras, down to the essence of himself that was there all along, his true self....

    As I read and re-read the words he wrote in 1901, I try to decipher what he's really saying, what he's leaving out and why. I try to see what he describes through his eyes, and then from the eyes of his friends, loved ones, and even his enemies. It's tough...meaning, it's tough to imagine living through all of it. I have to take lots of breaks, pull myself out of it and think about what I'm reading, try and put it into perspective.

    The first time I read his memoir, I couldn't put it down. I read it straight through. I was pretty familiar with Texas history and the Civil War, had read a lot of books, visited the battlegrounds, watched the documentaries and movies, but his words brought it all to life in a way I couldn't have imagined possible. It was liking stepping through a portal into that time of violence. Through his words and descriptions, I could see it, and much of it broke my heart. That's when I got the idea to turn it into a screenplay.

    It has taken another five or six years now...maybe even more...for the next step - actually trying to write it. And as with most things, it's turning out to be a little more complicated than I thought it would be. But I'm optimistic and determined. His life was full of tragedy, but in writing his memoir he hoped to send a message, warning others not to make the same mistakes he made. I want to help him get the message out, and at the same time make sure his loyalty, love, courage and strength of character aren't buried beneath his flaws along the way in the telling. Wish me luck!

    By the way, today is the 114th anniversary of the day he was released from prison. In his words..."Freedom! Oh! Freedom is so sweet to a man!"

    Today I'm grateful for my freedom...that I live in America...that my cousin found this memoir so we could all finally read it...for my great-great-grandfather's willingness to share his story so many years ago...for the chance to finally try to turn it into a movie or book so others can learn from his life the way he hoped.

Waves, Lariats, and Other Metaphors for Texas Winters

     I had to grab my gloves and insulated jacket for my walk with the dogs this morning. Another wave of winter rolled in from the north last night. This one was serious - it dropped into the forties! (That's winter in Texas, y'all...) Of course, with the help of the sun, it was back up into the high seventies by the afternoon.

    Winter here is like waves on a beach, stretching farther and farther with each push until finally, at high tide, the beach is covered.

    Okay, here's another metaphor...

     Winter is twirling its lariat, trying to lasso us and tie us down with cold temperatures, but so far it's missing the mark - the rope just hits us without catching, and winter has to roll it up and try again. Sooner or later, though, we'll be roped and tied up for, oh, two or three months.

    I'm sure there are other metaphors...if you think of one, email me or leave a comment. This is a lot more fun than trying to think of foreshadowing for my screenplay (no, I haven't finished this past Friday's assignment yet. Don't tell my kids.)

    But now I really am going to get to work...(wish me luck! And Byron, thank you for suggesting Story by Robert McKee...he embellishes and enriches everything I read in my lesson and textbook...)

Confidante in the Crowd

     We huddled on the metal steps near the top of the stands, tucked between the marching band on our left and whooping spectators on our right. There were no seats left in our small stadium - it was Homecoming in a winning season of high school football in Texas.    

      But we were oblivious to the game being played on the field, or even those around us who might be able to hear our voices over the cheering fans and the clanging cymbals. She was pouring her heart out to me; I was doing what she needed me to do...listening.

     Although she was one of the first friends I made when I moved here thirteen years ago, and quickly became one of my best...one of those who becomes like a sister, one you click with again no matter how much time has passed...I hardly ever see her anymore. As our children got older, our lives went in different directions.

     She was a volunteer way beyond my league. She didn't do all she did for praise or prestige, but out of love for her family and friends, for her belief in the organizations she was helping, and the knowledge that she had gifts to use.   

     Then one day in her forties, like so many others, she woke up and realized she still had dreams and goals, and she started working to fulfill them. Unfortunately, she is having to do it without the support and encouragement she craves. It breaks her heart, especially after the sacrifices she made.

     I'm lucky Tom at least tries to be supportive - I understand he can't help worrying about the financial strain we're under with me only working part-time so I can write and take my college classes. I worry, too, and so I try to be practical and patient, but I feel this URGENCY that tells me not to let go, not to set my dreams completely aside again. It's been hard to explain to him, but he's starting to understand it...I think probably because he feels a similar urgency about things in his life.

     I wonder if that urgency is what a mid-life crisis is all about?  So many of my friends are feeling it right now (although not all of them, and it's hard to explain it to those that aren't.) Has it always been this way for people going through their forties? Why isn't it talked about more - in a positive light rather than a negative one?

     One friend refuses to call it a crisis, but instead says it's a re-birth...an awakening. I like that. It doesn't have to be a bad thing.  But problems arise when those around you don't understand the changes you're trying to make in your life, don't support them, don't try to see how important they are to you or expect you to stay the same, keep making compromise after compromise. Change sometimes scares people, makes them nervous and defensive, forces them to come out of their comfort zones. 

    I'm lucky and I know it.  My heart goes out to my friend. I pray some luck goes her way, too. Soon.

I Should Know Better

     I feel like I'm drowning, suffocated by my own good intentions, ambition, dreams, and false-sense of time, specifically the number of hours in a day. I'm trying to do everything I want to do and think I need to do, and I can feel myself fading away, diluted by duty. 

     I should know better - I'm a recovering volunteer-junkie. I had weaned myself down to just "mediocre band mom" and "Boy Scout Troop Treasurer". I had learned to say "No" like I meant it. I had to - my good intentions were getting in the way of my dreams and I was running out of time...my fiftieth birthday is just around the corner. And I was exhausted.

     I cut out this quote by Thomas Merton, a man who struggled all his life with conflicts between dreams and duty, and taped it above my computer monitor to remind me and encourage me that it was okay to say "No!": "To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of concerns, to surrender to too many demands, to commit oneself to too many projects, to want to help everyone in everything...destroys the fruitfulness of our own work, because it kills the root of inner wisdom which makes work fruitful."

     But still, when I found out that we had a chance to have the University of Texas kids come out and hold a youth retreat at our church, but no one wanted to step up and take charge, I volunteered. Some may be skeptical, but I heard (not literally...more like a strong feeling) God telling me to do it. I've never heard God speak like that to me. Usually he gives me nothing more than strong suggestions; sometimes I wonder if I really hear him right, if I'm really doing what he wanted or just telling myself that so I can do what I want.

    This was different; I had no doubt it was him talking to me. And since I ask every morning for him to tell me what I need to do, how could I say no? Besides, I knew that if it was something God wanted done, he would make sure it worked out. He'd really be doing the work. And he has. So I haven't really stressed about it - potential problems that popped up along the way have just disappeared. I've watched small miracles unfold daily.

    And yet...it has still taken a lot of my time and energy and brain work, and I admit I'll be glad when this weekend is over and the retreat is in the past. My early momentum and excitement is dwindling, and it's contagious - it's spreading to my other activities. I find it hard to get motivated to do anything, even work on my screenplay.

    Which reminds me...back to work.

sleeping in class

     Last week I fell asleep watching "To Kill a Mockingbird."  This week our assignment was "Rear Window"  and "The Graduate." I had "Rear Window" on VHS - Wednesday night I finished up my chores and settled down to watch it at 9pm. At 10pm, Tom was shaking me awake.

    I ordered "The Graduate" from Amazon, but it hasn't come in yet. I've seen it before, though. My sister took me and my brother Donnie to see it at the LaPorte Drive-In when I was in third grade. Give her a break - she was only about seventeen at the time - she didn't know any better. Tom and I watched it again a few years ago and I couldn't believe I'd seen it when I was just nine! But it is a good movie.

   I signed up for Netflix and ordered "Matewan," the movie made of gold. Tom and I watched it tonight. I thought I'd be able to stay awake because I'd never seen it, but from the opening credits I knew I was doomed - my kids performed in the play "Fire in the Hole" which is very much like this movie - right down to lines and characters and plots. Sure enough, before too long Tom was shaking me..."Are you asleep?!"

   Now I've got twenty minutes to turn in my assignment. That's what I get for dropping out thirty years ago, but at least I'm trying now! I just wish I could stay awake...

...and back again.

     Back to the real world this evening at 7:30 pm...lugging my suitcases and new ice chest filled with all the food we bought and didn't eat down to the house...unpacking...laundry...feeding dogs...homework that was technically due Friday night but isn't finished yet. I tried to work on it this weekend (really I did!) and got a little bit done, but it's hard when you're surrounded by friends you never get to see, and just outside of the window the sun is shining in a robin-egg blue sky, the waves are stretching onto the beach, and there are still a few chapters left in the book you started last May.

     So here I am at the computer at 10pm knowing tomorrow's minutes are already filled with work (at the church), work (at the insurance company), and open house at the high school. I have to focus and work on it tonight, even as I try to hold on to the memory of the sun's rays warming my body, the wind cooling it off, the waves playing background music while I sip my Bloody Mary and escape into the world of my novel.

    More later...but now, to my screenplay...

Movie made of gold?

     I fell asleep last night doing my homework - I was watching "To Kill a Mockingbird."  I love that movie - it's one of my top three favorites (along with Monty Python's "Search for the Holy Grail" and "Mary Poppins" - what a combo, right?) I only fell asleep because I'm exhausted from trying to get everything done so I can run off to the coast this weekend to relax. Hmmm...

    Anyway, back to Mockingbird...I first watched it in third grade when I was a tomboy and had a haircut just like Scout's and a big brother just like Jem, except mine didn't let me tag along like Jem does Scout. I envied her that, as well as her front porch, porch swing, tire swing, and tree house. I loved the idea of a mysterious guardian watching over me, prepared to save my life and leaving me trinkets in the knothole of a tree. In fact, I filled a cigar box with trinkets much like theirs, but who knows where I gathered them up from.

    Even when I was little, I loved the messages of nonviolence and tolerance in the movie, that you shouldn't judge someone, that you should try to imagine what it's like walking around in their skin or seeing the world from their front porch. Atticus Finch made a big impression on me. I'm surprised I never wanted to be a lawyer.

   I "had" to watch Harrison Ford in "Witness" this weekend, and I "had" to order some other movies from Amazon - required viewing, you see. This screenwriting class doesn't feel like school at all, except for the deadlines. It's just giving me a good excuse to buy and watch movies, research more about my great-great grandfather's life and times, and start fleshing out the memoir he wrote back in 1901 that I want to turn into a screenplay...things I enjoy doing and have been wanting to devote more time to for years, but let that GUILT thing stop me. Now, I have to do it. It's school.

   One of the things I've learned from this class is that there exists an elusive movie, apparently made of gold, that I had never heard of before: "Matewan." You won't find it in any ordinary video store - only artsy ones, the kind with weird names that are near college campuses miles from your home. Amazon has it, but for what it costs, you could get ten other movies or a very nice pair of shoes, and the ones for sale on Ebay come from Australia and won't play in a normal USA DVD player. Figures. I'll continue searching for it. Wish me luck. It must be really good!

Keeping them spinning...

Some people talk about multi-tasking as "juggling," and that's a good metaphor, I guess, but I prefer "plate-spinning." Don't ask me why. (What we should be wondering is why we describe our lives and responsibilities in terms of circus acts...)

    Maybe it's the way I handle my tasks - give one a spin then ignore it while I spin another one to get it going again, and so on and so on, praying that I'm quick enough to get back to the first plate before it slows down so much it crashes to the ground. The photo above (of master juggler John Park) is a perfect impersonation of my life right now (metaphorically speaking), down to the cradling of the phone and the expression on his face. However, I rarely wear black vests over white shirts.