But (for today, at least) I feel like myself.
Except for the fact that I'm about to hurl from the combination of brownies and fried eggs that constituted my breakfast, I feel pretty swell.
I found this poem on my MySpace blog, and I love it.
I do not feel that angst today,
perhaps overshadowed by my nausea,
but I still love the way it reads.
Dirty Laundry
You take out my soul and.
instead of folding it neatly and placing it in a satin- or cedar-lined box,
you wad it up like a sweat-stained undershirt and toss it at the laundry hamper.
You miss and I can feel-it-more-than-see-it
wilt onto the floor.
It tugs at me.
(Souls are difficult to sever completely)
In a blink you have tossed me aside, too.
I don't land so fluidly.
*****
So the newspaper is finally ready to hire writers for my section again...
The new editor said that he would be doing that, and said that former writers shouldn't take it personally if they weren't on the summer skeleton crew...
So...
I'm wondering if I want to jump down that rabbit hole again.
I loved it.
And I hated it.
There is more to learn, but...from a kid?
Maybe.
I probably won't do it.
But I might.
Something to think about, at least...
I took a whole battery of aptitude tests in an attempt to narrow down my Best Possible Career Choice.
Too bad I scored in the "superior" or "excellent" categories of 5 of the 6 fields.
The one I scored "below average" on?
Heh...
Mechanical.
Fuckin' shocker, that.
My Dad, whose genes I sadly got the lion's share of, is a mechanical genius.
So it does sort of surprise me.
But not really because, like, I'm a girl and stuff!
duh.
But I ROCKED Logic, Cleric, Social, and the other two that I can't remember right now...
It did NOT help me narrow down my career path.
There is still a 12 lane mega highway for me to travel to reach that destination.
I need to spend lots of time convincing myself that any path I pursue will have its ups as well as its downs, and I just need to choose something, fer chrissakes!
But it's hard to settle for any mortal career when you know you're meant to be a God(dess)!!
Ha.
I did, however, start to worry about the presence of my old blog/anything I may write from here until graduation as skeletons in my closet if I do become a teacher...
And how will I censor myself in my writing??
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
That's it.
I just need to write the most exquisite novel known to man and retire on my billions of dollars I'll make from its record-breaking sales.
Snort!
Ok, ok.
That's a little over the top.
But the point is, it really is hard to settle for any normal job when
A. hubby earns puh-lenty and
B. all I really want is to write.
Right?
Oh!
That reminds me!
Our newspaper mispelled a word in a headline!!!
It was sad, too...the headline was "Student parishes in car crash"....
My first thought was, "Whoa, how many congregations were involved there???"
And then I realized they had mispelled PERISH.
In the NEWSPAPER.
Siiiiiiiiigh.
I should really be a copy editor, shouldn't I?
It's what I do, after all.
Relentlessly, constantly I edit copy.
Furiously, disgustedly I correct spelling and punctuation.
Oh, not on my OWN work.
Puh-leez.
Like I'm supposed to be perfect or something?
Shuh.
As if.
But it is Super Fun to find fault with others, bitch!!
Hell yeah!!!
Ok, so maybe the sugar from my breakfast brownie is twitching through my veins and adding a little levity to this depressing ole blog, what do you think?
I say yes.
Oh....Oh, I want to work for the newspaper again!
Mostly, I just want to be involved in the new Editor in Chief's production.
That guy is my hero.
I have one of my rare non-sexual crushes on the fella.
See, I tend only to crush in a sexual way, no matter who the object of my lust is.
It gets a little tiring, frankly.
So it's a holiday tomorrow.
Labor Day.
Neither my kids nor I have school Tuesday, so we're very slyly using that to our advantage.
All the motherfucking zombies around here went south this weekend and whoever didn't rush home for church this morning (yes, the 'tards actually do cut their weekend travel short in order to not miss a single second of their precious church meetings and arduous commitments thereto) will be coming back to the metropolis tomorrow.
And WE will be going against traffic and have the fabulous weekend destination of Moab
all
to
our
selves!!!!
Wooooopeeeeeeeeee!
This will be a first visit for both my husband and my sons!
(should I stick an "s" on the end of "husband" to make people think I've taken polygamy to a whole new level? heee...I wish!!)
Anyway, we had such blazing success with our last little roadtrip that I'm hopeful it'll be a good family time.
I'll be rushing home to make an 8pm therapy appointment.
Which is so much more beneficial than sitting in a room being told you're not good enough and you never will be!
Therapy is the antidote to organized religion, in fact.
Heh.
Ok, well, I think I've gone above and beyond the call of blogging duty here, so I think I'll stop while I still can.
That sounded ominous, didn't it? Ha!
Like...if I don't stop typing I my fingers will meld to the keyboard and I'll be stuck here
FOREVER-EVER-Ever-ever-er....(that was an echo)
Ok.
Bye!
Except for the fact that I'm about to hurl from the combination of brownies and fried eggs that constituted my breakfast, I feel pretty swell.
I found this poem on my MySpace blog, and I love it.
I do not feel that angst today,
perhaps overshadowed by my nausea,
but I still love the way it reads.
Dirty Laundry
You take out my soul and.
instead of folding it neatly and placing it in a satin- or cedar-lined box,
you wad it up like a sweat-stained undershirt and toss it at the laundry hamper.
You miss and I can feel-it-more-than-see-it
wilt onto the floor.
It tugs at me.
(Souls are difficult to sever completely)
In a blink you have tossed me aside, too.
I don't land so fluidly.
*****
So the newspaper is finally ready to hire writers for my section again...
The new editor said that he would be doing that, and said that former writers shouldn't take it personally if they weren't on the summer skeleton crew...
So...
I'm wondering if I want to jump down that rabbit hole again.
I loved it.
And I hated it.
There is more to learn, but...from a kid?
Maybe.
I probably won't do it.
But I might.
Something to think about, at least...
I took a whole battery of aptitude tests in an attempt to narrow down my Best Possible Career Choice.
Too bad I scored in the "superior" or "excellent" categories of 5 of the 6 fields.
The one I scored "below average" on?
Heh...
Mechanical.
Fuckin' shocker, that.
My Dad, whose genes I sadly got the lion's share of, is a mechanical genius.
So it does sort of surprise me.
But not really because, like, I'm a girl and stuff!
duh.
But I ROCKED Logic, Cleric, Social, and the other two that I can't remember right now...
It did NOT help me narrow down my career path.
There is still a 12 lane mega highway for me to travel to reach that destination.
I need to spend lots of time convincing myself that any path I pursue will have its ups as well as its downs, and I just need to choose something, fer chrissakes!
But it's hard to settle for any mortal career when you know you're meant to be a God(dess)!!
Ha.
I did, however, start to worry about the presence of my old blog/anything I may write from here until graduation as skeletons in my closet if I do become a teacher...
And how will I censor myself in my writing??
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
That's it.
I just need to write the most exquisite novel known to man and retire on my billions of dollars I'll make from its record-breaking sales.
Snort!
Ok, ok.
That's a little over the top.
But the point is, it really is hard to settle for any normal job when
A. hubby earns puh-lenty and
B. all I really want is to write.
Right?
Oh!
That reminds me!
Our newspaper mispelled a word in a headline!!!
It was sad, too...the headline was "Student parishes in car crash"....
My first thought was, "Whoa, how many congregations were involved there???"
And then I realized they had mispelled PERISH.
In the NEWSPAPER.
Siiiiiiiiigh.
I should really be a copy editor, shouldn't I?
It's what I do, after all.
Relentlessly, constantly I edit copy.
Furiously, disgustedly I correct spelling and punctuation.
Oh, not on my OWN work.
Puh-leez.
Like I'm supposed to be perfect or something?
Shuh.
As if.
But it is Super Fun to find fault with others, bitch!!
Hell yeah!!!
Ok, so maybe the sugar from my breakfast brownie is twitching through my veins and adding a little levity to this depressing ole blog, what do you think?
I say yes.
Oh....Oh, I want to work for the newspaper again!
Mostly, I just want to be involved in the new Editor in Chief's production.
That guy is my hero.
I have one of my rare non-sexual crushes on the fella.
See, I tend only to crush in a sexual way, no matter who the object of my lust is.
It gets a little tiring, frankly.
So it's a holiday tomorrow.
Labor Day.
Neither my kids nor I have school Tuesday, so we're very slyly using that to our advantage.
All the motherfucking zombies around here went south this weekend and whoever didn't rush home for church this morning (yes, the 'tards actually do cut their weekend travel short in order to not miss a single second of their precious church meetings and arduous commitments thereto) will be coming back to the metropolis tomorrow.
And WE will be going against traffic and have the fabulous weekend destination of Moab
all
to
our
selves!!!!
Wooooopeeeeeeeeee!
This will be a first visit for both my husband and my sons!
(should I stick an "s" on the end of "husband" to make people think I've taken polygamy to a whole new level? heee...I wish!!)
Anyway, we had such blazing success with our last little roadtrip that I'm hopeful it'll be a good family time.
I'll be rushing home to make an 8pm therapy appointment.
Which is so much more beneficial than sitting in a room being told you're not good enough and you never will be!
Therapy is the antidote to organized religion, in fact.
Heh.
Ok, well, I think I've gone above and beyond the call of blogging duty here, so I think I'll stop while I still can.
That sounded ominous, didn't it? Ha!
Like...if I don't stop typing I my fingers will meld to the keyboard and I'll be stuck here
FOREVER-EVER-Ever-ever-er....(that was an echo)
Ok.
Bye!
(Update: Tonight's Rainbow)
5 comments:
Logic, cleric and social? It's obvious you are a writer. That's what you are. Just do it.
I like editing and writing both. Editing doesn't feed the soul, but it's a lot easier to do it regardless of motivation and inspiration. Easier way to draw a paycheck, if you're editorially gifted, anyway.
I've had a couple people see from my blogger profile that I'm a medical editor and ask me for advice on how they can get into that line of work...and invariably they'll manage to mess up one word in their note. "For starters, you can proofread your own work!" Heh. I have no advice for them other than to land a low-paid ed. asst. job at a medical publishing company years ago when they were young enough for entry-level work, and to be fabulous.
I think I was born to be an editor. I'm a chronic proofreader. So much so, it's amazing I get anything posted or sent, given how I scrutinize, read and reread what I write so many times.
I'm working on letting some of this go, and now I'm left to wonder if everyone out there reading my stuff thinks I'm a scatterbrained nitwit who happens to know how to spell.
Eh...I am who I am, and I write how I write. If someone doesn't like it, they can point their mouse elsewhere.
Heh. I love your attitude, Bud!!! I just wish I had your ability to focus...(working on it, though!)
I'm probably too flighty for REAL editorial work, Orange, but it does have its perks! Your awesome. (haaaaaaa!!!! I don't know if I can leave it there...it's causing me physical pain...)
I recommend relaxing a little on the self-critique, Tricia, your blog is lovely--and besides, most people won't notice your mistakes....just Orange and I...hehe...
Hah!!
Aye new ewe wood naught stay aweigh!!!
Edit that!!
The SL Trib once used the word "Onery" (in reference to an ornery moose) in a headline.
Stupid Utahan editors don't even realize that just because they say it that way doesn't mean you spell it that way.
Good to see you back. Let's eat.
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