Don't Call Me Fragile

So I've got about five blogs swimming around in my head, and no time in which to blog them... but when have I not chosen to procrastinate on a big paper four days before it's due? I may end up having to take Wednesday off from life.

Anyway the River Pretty Writers Retreat was this weekend, and it went well I think. I really love getting a chance like that to be away from the rest of the world for a while and getting to know people better. I  made a lot of new friends this weekend and strengthened several that were made last semester.

Something that is interesting about the workshops in the writing retreat: We are given writing prompts or exercises and then somewhere between 10 or 20 minutes to write. Then someone reads what they've written and everyone else reacts to it. I've noticed that I tend to write non-fiction in these workshops, because it's hard for me to be spontaneously creative in that way. (For instance, of the three or four exercises this weekend, only one was fiction.)

It's a little rough because a lot of what I write about is being a widow. I think I just need to accept that I need to write a memoir to get out all the stuff, instead of revisiting it over and over and over. Widowhood dominates my writing more than it does my life.

Interestingly enough though I had three very distinct widow experiences this weekend.

One (and chronologically the final one) happened in conversation. One of my writing friends is a poetry guy and somehow over the course of the last 6-8 months that I've known him he didn't know about Nathan. So we were helping a girl who had gotten pretty intoxicated get to bed and he made a comment about his wife having a lot of health problems and so he was sort of trained to take care of sick people. And I agreed, and made some comment about recovering from caretaker fatigue. I said something about taking care of someone with cancer, thinking that he already knew my background, and he asked who and I said, "Oh... my husband."

We had been walking and he stopped dead in his tracks. He had no clue. He asked if he could give me a hug. I obliged, half because he looked like he needed a hug. Several times the rest of the weekend he commented on my strength.

Two happened at the student reading (I really can't remember if this reading was before or after the next experience, but I've got a organizational plan which places this one here.) One of my friends from the last retreat read a story, a fictional piece which takes place 10-15 days after his wife dies. (His wife is not dead.) He mentioned it was the most difficult thing he's ever written and the hardest thing he's ever had to do. It was really interesting to hear what he thought it would be like for him... It made me think about how, before Nathan died, I thought I might handle his death. It isn't the first time I've said this, but before he got sick I thought that if Nathan ever died I'd become a hermit. I'd run off to the upstairs of my parent's house and become a hermit, and never venture out into the world again. That's what I thought. This friend was very concerned about what I thought and how I reacted to his piece, but I can't be insulted by someone truly trying to imagine what life would be like. He said a lot of things that weren't at all like what I'd gone through... but he said some things that were right on. And that doesn't mean that he was wrong about how he'd react-- it just means that he is not like me. It did make me slightly paranoid (as I often am) that the way I handled Nathan's death makes it look like I didn't love him with all that I had. But that's my weird issue, not his. And it was sweet of him to be concerned about my reaction.

And then there was the third experience, which also happened at the student readings. A boy from Oklahoma read something he'd written from the perspective of a Marine Family Relations Officer. I can't tell you what the story was about... at all. Because towards the beginning of the story he read the words, "fragile widows."

And it was all I could do for the rest of his reading was not walk up to him and punch him in the nose and then yell, "Who's fragile now!?!"

I was ticked.

Not only was I mad for the cause of widows everywhere, but I happen to be dating a Marine. Now it's true he's not an FRO, but one of the many reasons I like my Marine is that my widowhood says to him that I'm very strong. He has seen widows in mourning and he does not call them fragile. He calls them strong. I was so put off by how wrong this guy's casual reference to myself and my sisters in grief was.

It really angers me how prevalent this idea of the flawed-ness or fragility of widows is in society. Maybe it comes from the people who try to imagine (like me, once) what they would do if they lost their spouse. **This is different from my friend who honestly and sincerely put himself through the real imagining of what would happen. Much like an actor he put in the work to make himself that character-- to have that character's experiences.** Maybe it comes from the pity. I heard a woman say to my friend (after he made a general announcement that his wife had not died) how glad she was to hear that his wife was alive because she'd been feeling so sorry for him.

Again, a reason I appreciate Jason. He does not pity me. He wishes that I hadn't had to go through it, but he doesn't pity me. He also doesn't view the terrible side note that I once had a husband who died as something that's wrong with me. In fact he's baffled by the fact that anyone would.

I'm a widow, and that simple fact has taught me that I have a core of steel. Much of what I am has been stripped or blown away, but that doesn't mean I'm fragile. I've been tested. If life is a fist fight I've been fighting a berserker who is three times my size and not pulling his punches. Being hit doesn't make you fragile. Heck, even being broken doesn't make you fragile. Strong things break all the time. What makes something fragile is being easily broken. And trust me when I say that the death of one's spouse is not an easy blow.

Yes, I am a widow but don't call me fragile.

Perked

I knew that I wanted to see "The Perks of Being a Wallflower."

Nathan always used to say I had a sixth sense about previews. He said I could tell if it was going to be a good movie from the preview... even when the preview makes it look like something else. I think that's what happened with this movie. I had no idea what it was going to be... and yet... It was so good. Like... I'd go watch it again right now, if I had someone to go with.

I'm probably overselling...  It resonated with me.

It's set in Pittsburgh... My mom is from Pittsburgh so I'm vaguely more familiar with Pittsburgh than any other major city in the US... and I'm fonder of it for that reason, too. Perhaps nonsensical, but true.

I just... yeah... it was good... it was good in that way that makes you not want to go home when it's over... that makes you want to drive to the middle of nowhere and look at the stars on a blanket, or find a swingset and swing in the dark, or fall in love.

Good in that simple, quiet, beautiful way... like looking out at the newly fallen snow from a bay window.

And it hurts a bit, too.. but still in a good way-- like finally accepting a truth that you've been denying for too long of a time... or crying the tears that you normally choke down.

Am I being pretentious? Am I talking in words that sound pretty but mean absolutely nothing? or in cliches? I can't tell.

 I should probably stop... I think I'm in a mood that desperately wants to put words to something that words can't define.

The Compliment Huddle

Ok, stories that I promised- First off is the awkward one... though it's kinda hilarious.

So Bailey is one of the girls who I roomed with. I liked Bailey a lot. She was sitting between Patrick and I on Sat night at one point... and the subject of boyfriends and girlfriends came up and she asked Patrick about his girlfriend and then she asked me if I had a boyfriend. I said "No." But she could tell there was more to it, and I wasn't sure what to tell her so I started. "I..." and then I trailed off because I didn't know how to bring up Nathan. And then I looked at Patrick... and back at Bailey... and then back at Patrick, trying to figure out what to say... and then back at Bailey. But this point Bailey was giving me a weird look and I suddenly realized that it looked like I was trying to say that there was something between Patrick and I. So then I freaked out and just blurted the first thing that came to my head.

"I have a dead husband."

(Renée shakes her head at herself and puts her forehead in her hand.)

Yep. I really blurted it out just like that. And Bailey looked at me and said... "Are you for real?"

And I was like, "Yeah... I'm serious. It was cancer."

Oh Lawsie. You'd think after 20 months I'd be better at this. Nope. If anything I've gotten worse.

To her credit, Bailey took it like a trooper, and didn't freak out with the full force of my awkwardness.

And now the story of the compliment huddle.

It was raining a lot and there was a porch just outside of our room. At one point Bailey and I along with two guys I have classes with and a guy and a girl whom I really didn't know at all were sitting on the porch, (everyone was rather intoxicated except me and the other girl, Ellen) and Bailey says, "Guys. shut up."

Drunk people speak loudly. So then she yelled again, "Guys, Shut up! I just had a great idea." (I dropped out some of the expletives that were used.)

Everyone shut up.

And then Bailey proclaimed her great idea. "We should all get in a huddle and compliment each other."

Now the thing is... if everyone had been sober they wouldn't have done it. Heck, I'm not sure that Bailey would have suggested it if she had been sober. But she was right, it was a great idea.

So Bailey suggested a compliment huddle and one guy jumped up and then everyone else on the porch stood up too and got in a huddle- all six of us. And then we went around the circle, giving each other compliments. Honestly.... I think it was one of the best ideas I've ever heard. People don't do that enough and they should.

The next morning everyone was kind of embarrassed, but bonded at the same time. Bailey kept disparaging it... I think because sometimes giving a compliment is embarrassing. What are the people going to think about you the next day, when there isn't alcohol coursing through their system? And it was her idea... but I tried to tell her not to do that. It was a really *good* thing.

One of those moments that you hold on to- A great story you tell- That time six strangers had a drunken compliment huddle on a porch during a rainstorm. You can't plan moments like that. They just happen and leave you better for it.

I don't retreat, I advance

Home again, home again.

Ok, I think it's time to kill the word game. Two posts without guesses means people don't want to do it.
The final count was: Renée- 18, Dawn- 17, Paula- 13, Rhonda-12, Melissa-4, Katie-2, Michael- 2.

Now that the business is wrapped up, on to what I really want to talk about- the writer's retreat.

My goal going into the retreat was relatively simple. Learn a little bit about writing and make some connections. And I think that I accomplished those goals.

I got to drive up and back with my friend Patrick (the one who is in my critique group.) Patrick and I are eeriely similar in background and viewpoints. In fact our current novels have overlapping ideas behind them- but they were developed before we knew each other... Also I think Patrick is hilarious. Patrick says that most people don't think he's that funny, but I think being nearly identical people I get his humor. And seriously. Homeslice is hilarious. Emily Bronte has a great quote in Wuthering Heights, "Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same." I think that could be said of Patrick and I-- as long as you take out the romantic context of Wuthering Heights- Patrick is firmly girlfriended and also seven years younger than I am. But that also means that we are free to just be friends without all the tension. So Patrick was great for my retreat experience. I had a friend I could sit with at meals and hang out with and who I could trust to like me and not think I was being clingy.

I'm always so afraid of being thought clingy.

Another thing that helps my experience is that writers drink... a lot. There were a few who didn't, but by and large if they didn't drink they also didn't hang around the people who did. Except, of course, for me. I didn't even have a sip of alcohol all weekend, but the great thing about everyone else being drunk when you are sober (and I put this on facebook, but it bears repeating) is that- at least for this shy girl- It's a lot easier to overcome your shy-ness because likely these people are not going to remember anything you said or did in the morning. Instead they will just have a generally positive impression of you with no real memory of why. And if you do say something stupid.. well.. so is everyone else. Also my chameleon-like abilities to mimic ensure that I don't stand out too badly as the sober one. :)

As far as writing goes, I think I learned several things, too. I think the most important thing was something one of the faculty said on Friday. "Don't be afraid to state the obvious." I am afraid to state the obvious sometimes. Most times even, especially if I'm writing for a literary audience. If it's for YA I think I'm less freaked, but for some reason I'm afraid of insulting adults... but then I got to thinking... Do you look at the Mona Lisa and are insulted because it's obviously the portrait of a woman? You look at Starry Night and are you angry that you know it's a landscape? No. It's about the style and the texture and the choices the artist makes that create the beauty. In fact, way more often people are angry if they look at some abstract piece and can't figure it out. So why am I afraid of being too obvious in my  own writing? Dumb.

I read (something I'd written) today at the last workshop before coming home. I was afraid to, but I did it anyway. I was scared because 1) It was non-fiction and referenced two people who were in the workshop with me-- not in a positive light and 2) I cursed in it... a lot. 3) I was angry in it and you know that's not how I normally roll.

But I read it... and my voice was all low and shaky cause I was so angry/emotional. (But the theatre kid in me was just a little pleased with that because it gave the piece even more verisimilitude.) And when I finished there was a pause and then everyone in the room sort of let out their breath heavily and started clapping. (The clapping was normal... the pause and the breath were not.) But the breath let me know. It let me know that I'd gotten them. Somehow I'd managed to *get* the whole room in half a page. One dude even spontaneously cried out, "How are you not published already?!"  Oh, and the guy whom I'd called out via words very generously announced to everyone in the room who he was in the story and then complimented me on my work.

I'm glad that I read it... though I sorta still can't believe that I was brave enough to do it... But in a way it feels like one more victory. A woman (who was also named Renee!) came up to me later and thanked me for reading it. She lost a sister to cancer and she said- "That was truth." Wow. *Such* a compliment.

I sorta hate that I made the widow "announcement" in such big public way, but at the same time, it might have been a good thing... there was no awkward searching for something else to say, no guilt-ridden changing of the subject. People could just comment on something that I'd done within the writing, and then we could all move on to someone else's piece. Then everyone could emotionally process me and put me into a new little box in their head before they had to actually interact with me one on one again.

There are a few other stories to tell- the compliment huddle and the awkward way I still haven't figured out how to tell an individual that I'm a widow, but those will have to wait for another day and another blog post. Maybe if you are lucky I'll have time tomorrow.

Bit of a lark, really.

Yesterday's word was: telepathy. Also, I have discovered a heretofore unknown talent of jinxing people if I name them in this little section. Pretty sure it only works on one person at time, so someone who might be thinking that I jinxed them earlier this week has probably been un-jinxed by my mention of Dawn, yesterday.

Seems like all my posts have been kinda serious of late...

I guess I've been having a serious time.

Well, I know I have. Lots of serious conversations and thoughts. And I've been really *feeling* how much I miss Nathan, because I'm missing Kara.

I hate how everything overlaps that way.

But I'm ready to have a fun time.

And I'm also in a weird mood because I've read short stories for hours. I just used the word "bulwark." No foolin'.

I've decided something very important.

I'm gonna fit right in with creative writers cause all anyone ever writes about is death.

I've read 7 short stories in the past 2 days and 6 of them had a dead person in them and the other was all about sex and possibly child abuse... not totally sure on that one.

Creative writers are weird. I think they are the sort who walk around with bags they call attaches and hats they call berets. And cigarette holders they call.... cigarette holders.

But I refuse to carry around a cigarette holder. That is just where I draw the line.

OH! My talk is up online! So, you know, if you want to hear that, you can go here and hear:

http://www.springfieldvineyard.org/sermons/gods-got-your-back

PS... my voice sounds weird.

Help, help I'm being oppressed!

Today I got an e-mail from Moon City telling me that the second piece I submitted will not be published. I'm not surprised by this, because they were both long and why would they print two things of mine in the same journal? It's not the "Journal of  Everything Renée".... (That's this blog!) However, I was really happy to get the e-mail because it was obviously written to me, and they mention "What to Say" and that they are "excited" to include it in the volume.

At long last, confirmation that they really did mean to hit send on the first e-mail that said they were going to publish it.

Yes, I still doubted that they were seriously going to publish it even yesterday. I thought it still might be a big mean cosmic joke played on me by the universe.

Hooray for it not being a joke!

I'm excited to start classes... I feel like I'll be a more interesting person with classes happening. I will have things to discuss and people to describe and happenings to report.

I think right now I mainly talk about the same things over and over.

*sigh*

Speaking of which, I think Kara said it best, yesterday- My manicure is oppressing me. Maybe I should just try and chip it so that I *have* to take the polish off...

Help, help I'm being oppressed!

Oh... sad. I just looked that line up and it's actually "Help, help I'm being repressed." I don't like that nearly as much.

I find Monty Python to be endlessly quote-able but a miserable movie to sit through.. am I the only one who thinks this way?

Napolean Dynamite is similar, though less quote-able. I think it's the distinct lack of British accents. British accents make anything more quote-able.

For instance, my British GPS is constantly saying, "Take slip road on right." And do you think I would be telling you that if he weren't British? Heck no.

By the way Happy Diamond Jubilee to the Queen! It's a big year for London, with the Diamond Jubilee and the Olympics. I'd go to London, too, but the universe might implode with that much happening in London at once, so it's probably best I don't go. I don't even think the Doctor could put the world back to rights after such a happening.

Interesting fact: I get hungry at 1:30-2. It doesn't matter if I ate both lunch and supper. It doesn't matter if I had a late supper. It doesn't matter if I had big meal or small meals or lots of snacks- if it's 2 in the morning I'm hungry. Strangely enough, even when dealing with the weeks after Nathan died and I was eating next to nothing, I would still get hungry at 2 in the morning... What is that about?

Ok I have to go and get some cereal or something now. Catch ya on the flip!

P.S. Listen to these girls sing this song... And I thought I liked the original!

Schueduling Goodbye

I definitely cried watching Glee...

I'm not good with goodbyes.... even fake ones.

I broke my desk... well actually, my desk has been broken for a long time... several several years, actually.... but now it's actually broken to the point that it won't be super functional ... unless it's ok for a computer tower to sit slanted? Heck if I know.

ooooh it's raining up a storm outside...

Heh, I like it. "Raining up a storm."

I think I'm so clever sometimes.

I met with my writers group for the last time in person... We are going to try and do a Skype/google meeting but Mandi is going to be in Florida for at least 2 years. (Master's program) And at least one of the boys is going to be on a ranch for the summer.

It's too bad, actually. I love the four of us getting together. We have such a fun time/dynamic. We have group conversations and conversations with just two of us over top of a conversation the other two are having and we can seamlessly transition in and out of the group conversation and switch conversation partners without even thinking about it and it's great. We won't be able to do that with Skype...

So that's a goodbye.

Worked on video game stuff a bit tonight. I love working on the video game stuff. I always feel super productive, and Ryan always says thanks when I send him stuff. You wouldn't think that would be a big deal, but it kinda is. Affirmation and appreciation... pretty much the way to get me to do nearly anything.

I've got to nail down a schedule for my life or my summer is going to fly past me and I'm not going to have gotten anything done... including food. I ate today at 6PM and at 2AM... yep. Ridiculous.

And with that... it's 4AM. Seriously this is my natural sleep schedule. I keep wondering if I could manage to  keep going around and if I would settle into a "normal" pattern if I just went around the horn, if you will. Not pulling an all-nighter, but just pushing it a little further until I'm sleeping during the right time.

Maybe this means I'm supposed to live in Asia... or Europe somewhere... I don't know where... my understanding of time and time zones is shaky in the best of moments.

Grumpy Hermitage

I was a hermit today.

I read a book tonight which is a pretty hermit-y thing to do.

I really don't like stories where the main character doesn't get what he/she wants in the end. Like, what the heck!?! You are going to spend this many pages making us care about the character- Making us identify and laugh and love the character and then at the end you are gonna try and make us be content with a partial happiness?

That's not good enough. In fact, it's total crap.

I want the ending to be happy. I could care less if it's the traditional (aka "predictable") route. If you are going to write a love story the characters need to be in love in the end. None of this "My Best Friend's Wedding" crap.

If you are going to write a coming of age then the character needs to grow and mature into the person we always knew (s)he could be.

If you are writing a mystery someone has to cleverly put all the piece together in the end likely with great peril to themselves.

You may have gathered I'm irritated at the book I just read.

I really liked this character. I'm mad that I'm supposed to be satisfied with an ending that doesn't give her what she wants, even though she's worked so hard and done so much for everyone else.

I know that a lot of people don't love Twilight, but honestly say what you will about Stephanie Meyer. She keeps her authorial promises.

Maybe that's what this comes down to. I can't stand it when someone doesn't keep their promises. Just don't make a promise if you aren't going to fulfill it (or at least try.)

Also I obviously hate leaving my "entertainment" feeling more depressed and fed up with life than I did when I started.

Fun with Font Sizes

Productive day-- but it's always a productive day when you get gift AND grocery shopping done, do laundry, and do dishes.

Why are you looking at me like that?

What!?!

:|

Fine.

Yes, I bought some nail polish. But only one bottle!! And it's nothing like any other kind I have.

Go to this blog if you want to see what it looks like... and please note when you do that there are people in this world who love nail polish far far more than I do, so obviously I'm not the crazy one in this relationship.

How gorgeous was it outside today, huh?

Dang it!! Stop staring at me!

Fine, ok, yes, I also bought some shirts while I was at Kohl's.  But they were both 50% off!

And you know what? I *didn't* buy a swimsuit that would be absolutely no use to me since I cannot swim. That's right. I didn't buy it despite the fact that it looked super cute on me and let's just not get into why I even tried it on in the first place.

Let's just focus on how I didn't buy a super duper cute swimsuit and not the fact that I had Starbucks twice today...

The second time only cost 2 dollars though! That's something, right?

: |

I can feel you judging me, right now. I can *feel* it.

I am a cosmopolitan adult... almost.

I gotsta buy me a mat to put under my computer chair so I can roll around... The carpet in this place is nicer, meaning it has texture and is generally carpet like, but it means I can't roll at all and that's sad. I like rolling. It's who I be. It's how I... well... roll.

There is something about coming home from work and studying math for a big muckety-muck test that makes me feel oddly smart and cosmopolitan. Seriously. Yesterday as I opened the freezer I felt like I was a grown woman, accomplishing my dreams and being an adult.

Then I realized I was reaching for the Pepperoni Bagel Bites and I had a good laugh at myself.

I'm just sure that cosmopolitan adults never go near Bagel Bites....

They certainly don't buy them in bulk at Sam's.

...uhhhh not that I buy them in bulk at Sam's. Nope, never ever did that... ever.

I haven't painted my nails in days. I simply haven't the time. (That last line was said in a snooty British accent, btw.) I'm too busy studying a big ole Math book and de-rustifying my brain.

And writing a contributor's bio. (80 of the hardest fought words I've ever penned... clicked... typed. Whatever.)

And blogging.

And eating Bagel Bites.

And ok, ok, I may have watched "The Voice" last night while studying a bit. That's ok, isn't it?

I'm actually pleasantly surprised with my math skills. I looked at the GRE website and I got pretty scared, but apparently my mind is like an old farm truck in the winter. You have to start it up and let it idle for a while, but once it's warmed up, it'll do a heck of a lot more than you think.

That was a beautiful analogy. Be impressed.

I got on the scale this morning and my weight had gone up a bit since the last time I got on it. Which just goes to show you that eating a ton more food can not be balanced out by climbing stairs several times a day.

Guess I need to actually start paying attention to that again. Gotta look good for Lissa's wedding.

I'm really hopeful that after Thursday I will be able to get a heck of a lot more stuff done and I won't go to bed with a huge to-do list still in my mind....

I'm suspicious this won't actually be the case.

Ok, well I need to go be a cosmopolitan adult and write a critique for writing group, and do a bit of video game writing, and of course always more studying... miles to go before I sleep!

Afraid to Believe

I got great news today. They want to publish my one-act in the Moon City Review 2012!

It's such good news that I almost don't trust it. What if someone somewhere just hit the wrong button? It's all electronic now... it wouldn't be that hard to send an accidental acceptance when you meant to send a refusal.

How sad is it that I find myself suspicious of good news?

I was excited for a few hours and then I just started thinking, "What if it's a mistake?" The only other person I know who was accepted, was accepted over a month ago. Why the long delay between now and then?

50 people liked my status on facebook... what if I have to go back and tell them it was all just a misclick?

I hate looking the fool so much that I almost regret telling people so quickly. I don't want to look foolish and I really really hate feeling pitied.

Pitied or patronized. Either reaction make me want to punch someone/thing.

And if this is all some cruel joke the universe is playing on me... *shakes fist in the general direction of the universe*

Dang, I'm not a pessimist, normally... but I've mentioned before how often it feels like if I want something really and truly then I can't have it.

Now I've just admitted to the world that I really and truly wanted MCR to publish one of my pieces.

It's the first thing I ever tried to get published and I really wanted it to be used. It's that huge first step and it starts the very slow process of getting my name into the world... and I *wanted* it.... so I thought for sure it wouldn't happen. And the passing of the deadline I expected to hear from them by just confirmed it all in my head.

So this feels like it's not possible.

It's exceedingly weird that I should be so good at trusting in God with the hard stuff life's thrown at me, but afraid to trust in Him that the good things are actually good and not just another sneaky way to try and crush my spirits. I've learned how to rejoice in sorrow... but how do you rejoice in rejoicing? How can you ever know it's not all going to come crashing out from under you? The mountains are a lot easier to fall off of than rock bottom.

I realize how very strange I sound right now... I feel like for the first time I've uncovered a place where this journey has dinged me up a bit... where the process hasn't refined me, but added a weakness. How ironic that in learning to stand tall through the valleys I've become afraid to fly in the heights.

Disconnected

Wednesday I'm gonna throw a party. It's gonna be me and my computer, an online game, Skype, a youtube video, my blog, Netflix, e-mail, facebook, and sundry other internetty things. You are all invited from the privacy of your own homes.

Yesterday I left my old apartment for the last time... I looked around the empty walls that had contained so many good memories and so many hard memories and so many precious memories... and it was hard.

I'm now at the point where there are a lot of people who don't know that I'm a widow... cause it's not like it's something that I want to bring up.. but even the fact that they might not know... That's strange to me... it's amazing how much of a person's life you can't tell just by looking at them. Especially for me, because I place so much value on knowing and being known by people.

I'm really missing deep meaningful conversations... the soul bearing kind. I mean the kind that last for hours longer than you expected and you walk away from with the feeling that you have a small little piece of that person that you carry with you, now.

I like my new place but I'm feeling super detached... I don't see people during the day when I work, and I've been going home at night to unpack... and I park in my garage, so I don't even see people by chance parking... and I don't know my neighbors and I am just craving people. I really want to just sit around and talk and not do anything but just to talk.

Maybe I'm hitting my mid-life crisis... I feel like I'm not doing anything that matters, and I'm craving meaning... Maybe this just means it's been too long since I've had a chance to write.

And they say the internet doesn't actually make people feel connected.

Man, I've got to stop with the melancholy introspection. It's so not my mo.

Rainbow Connections

Two of my most favorite things have been joined together.

But I can't post the video here so you should follow the link... to see Darren Criss and Kermit duet-ing on "The Rainbow Connection"

Today in my writer's group the two guys were not agreeing on anything, and one of them suggested they were like an angel and devil on my shoulder... and then he, of course, claimed the angel spot.

The other protested and I said, "Well, you are wearing black."

He said, "Gray! And look, I have a rainbow on!" (He was wearing a Pink Floyd t-shirt.)

I was totally convinced.

Then the first guy called him a Care Bear because he was upset to be ousted from the angel position... which, now that I think about it, wouldn't actually do anything to knock the one wearing a rainbow out of the angel spot.

I'm pretty sure neither of them know how much I love rainbows... but if he did, the angel totally played me like a fiddle.

Angels can be tricksy.

Btw, it's completely delightful to have two people trying to convince me of their arguments by making funny faces and silently mocking while the other person is talking. How I love a good rapport!

Tomorrow I really need to start the process of packing.... whoo hoo. :/

I think packing would be a lot more fun if I could only put things of the same color in a box.... but man would that take a long time!

We can't all be Janis

Feeling better tonight. Went and worked at Starbucks for a few hours and was around some people... yep, still an extrovert.

Plus I was super helpful by writing a large portion of a game document for Ryan cause he was in the weeds and let's face it, being super helpful makes me really happy. Oh, btw I'm kinda helping out with a game again... in addition to packing, moving, cleaning, writing a book, and painting my nails.

Yes, painting my nails does count as it's own large thing that I'm doing.

Actually, believe it or not I've not painted my nails for almost a week. Remember the glitter tips I had last week? Well, I loved that glitter so much that I just painted my whole nails in it... and I'm still wearing it-- because you don't really notice chips or wear on the edges when it's glitter and they are so flipping pretty-- especially in the sun.

Trust me when I say this doesn't do them justice.

Seriously the only thing I want to do is put another coat of the same color on them. Who knew that the act of painting your nails could be addictive? I thought it was just the ever changing colors, but no, apparently I just find something soothing about doing the mundane task. Though my cuticles are a lot happier with their prolonged separation from acetone.

Someone linked to an article on facebook today that I thought might be healthy for me. It's called the Rejection Game and the goal is to get rejected by someone once every day. It apparently gets you over your fear of rejection. Huh. Makes sense, but I don't know that it's something I really want to do every day... now on the other hand if I can just view every rejection I do receive as a victory, or a point... seems like there might be something to that. Cause rejection means you are taking chances... and that doesn't seem like such a bad thing.

I've given myself until March 1st before I start packing. That's Thursday and I'll probably be pretty busy until then anyway... but also I feel like I can buckle down then. It's the beginning of the weekend- and I've got 2 weekends until I move. Plus it's hard to get motivated when I think that it's February and I don't move until the middle of March. Yeah, I know that's a bit silly but I don't want to have to live around boxes for a super long time, either... it's gonna be bad enough in the two weeks before I have the keys to the new place.

I don't watch the Academy Awards, but apparently The Artist was a big deal last night? I'd never heard of it until tonight, when a friend told me about it...but now I kinda want to see it, and not just because it makes me think of Singing in the Rain. But also because of these insane reviews.

Also the next time I'm with a group of people I want to play this game that my friend Janis talked about a long time ago on her blog (but linked to today on fb)

You can see her blog here... but don't stop reading mine because you discover how freaking hilarious she is.

We can't all be Janis.

Writing

"We do not write because we want to; we write because we have to." -W. Somerset Maugham

I was reminded of this today, when I was complaining about some aspect of what we do to a writing friend of mine.

I said, "Why do we do this again?"

And she said,"Because nothing else makes us feel this way." 

And I said, "Oh yes, we write because we must."

Writing time is about to get scarce, with the advent of my move. But I must.

At this point it's too much a part of my soul to do anything else...

Strange how little more than a year ago I never would have thought that about myself.

I've always been good with words. I was taunted that I "read the dictionary for fun."-in high school, no less. Almost every English teacher I've had has read my stuff aloud to the class or given me high written praise. I liked vocab tests for heaven's sake, but it took me until 28 to realize how much I like it. How great I think it would be to make a career out of it. That I am in fact a writer... who writes because she must.

And if I had even one fewer person encouraging me, who knows if I'd be able to say that, today.

Writers are not born, they are made

Crazy confusing

expect

except

accept

The English language is crazy confusing.

And along those lines I give you this poster which says the author is unknown but I saw a site that stated the author is Richard Lederer.

 

Good Day and Dread Pirates

I had a good day. Woke up "late," but still early for late (10:00), showered, ate and watched a tv show.

I almost always watch a tv show while I eat if I'm at home. It makes me feel less alone. I don't know what widows did before there was tv/Netflix. It's my saving grace, so often! I would probably not eat alone if I didn't have tv... which doesn't sound terribly healthy.

Then around two I went to Starbucks and started writing-- 5 and 1/3 pages- Yesss! and in about 3 hours! I have to remind myself that while 5 pages in three hours may not seem that impressive, it's pretty good for me, especially when you take into consideration that I start by going back to the beginning of the chapter and reading what I already wrote, editing it, and then continuing on. It's easy to assume that writing is as fast as thinking.. or at worst, reading... it's not. It's actually a much slower process. I mean it takes me an awful long time to write an e-mail, and that doesn't even have a plot or a POV that I have to stick to! Though when I get in the zone it really can fly.-- both the time and the writing.

Random thought: I wonder if I ever become famous if I'll still be able to go to Starbucks to write or if I will have to make my own little writing retreat because my fans will be too needy. What I secretly hope is that I will become famous, and go to Starbucks, but everyone will just treat me like normal and the regulars will shoo away crazy fans and maybe sometimes people will come and watch me write like I'm a museum exhibit.

Weird, Renée. And now it's not even a secret.

So anyway, then Melissa called me up and we went to a little thing called VisionCon with Bill and Dan... Wow was that an experience. We were only there for like 15 minutes, and only in the "dealer" room but golly... Nerds are.. nerdy. :)

 That said, with so many people selling and roaming about in costumes, I felt a bit like I'd found my people. And I'm so normal compared to them! I was wearing a skirt and leg warmers and in the real world I felt cute but a little strange. In VisionCon I felt like I was totally normal/kinda boring. I mean, I didn't have a corset or even a tail!

Also I must say- I have no idea what the guy dressed as the "Dread Pirate Roberts" actually looked like, considering the costume covers up almost everything except for a weird mustache... And yet I found him super attractive because of the movie. Why isn't there a girl costume that is that covered and that alluring?!? 

Kinda makes me want to go to a single's Masquerade Ball.

So after that experience, we went to dinner and then Melissa and I went and got wedding crafty while the boys went somewhere to smoke uppity tobacco or something. And Melissa and I watched Stardust. Such a fun movie.

Then I came home and planned out my outfit for tomorrow with items in my closet that I'd almost forgotten about. I'm wearing heels- we'll see how that goes. Did I tell you about how my left foot has been hurting lately? It has.. Just sometimes when I move it a certain way, but then it hurts a lot- from my sole to the top of my foot- wrapping around with the arch. I've not worn heels in at least a week, trying to make it stop hurting, but there doesn't seem to be a difference, so I guess I'll know if it's heels' fault after tomorrow. I can still stand on my tiptoes without pain, so I don't think it's a fallen arch, but Web MD has been less than helpful. Then again even when they get the diagnosis right Web MD can be a bit dangerous.

Ach, it's time to go to bed, I think, and dream of the Dread Pirate Roberts.

Next time I have a boy whom I can dress up for Halloween I know what we are going as!  I can't believe I hadn't thought of it before! But don't steal my costume idea, lest I have to sic an RoUS on you.

Talking bout my generation'

Today for a while Tim and I got to talking about my generation (the millennials). Apparently he'd spoken to a friend who'd said that Millennials are the most socially awkward generation, thus far, because so much interaction can be done via text (phones, e-mails, the internet, ect) so we've lost.. or never had to acquire... the proper interpersonal skills. Tim disagreed and stuck up for us, saying that he felt like every generation has a way in which they are more awkward, and we are no worse or better than any other.

I appreciated it... but it also got me to thinking. I talk to people a lot. I was a Speech/Communication teacher, for goodness sake. I enjoy interpersonal communication, and I think I have reasonable skills at it. I enjoy conversations and one on ones with friends and small groups. I like the give and take, I like the conversational flow. And heaven help me do I like witty banter! But I am a writer and I really do enjoy expressing myself through text. There is a reason why I label myself as a textrovert. I like being able to edit myself to say exactly what I mean. I like being able to be witty without having to also speak quickly/correctly. And I like to be able to express my full thought without being interrupted.

Maybe this friend of Tim's thinks the Millennials are so socially awkward in person because we are so eloquent and savvy via text. Yep that sounds totally conceited- sorry. But really. Most of the solid friendships I've made since going to college have had a strong basis in text. (There are several exceptions- especially any friendships I made through Nathan.) But much of Kara and I's friendship-- especially the early years can be charted through notes written to each other. Every summer when I went home during college I had a person who I chatted with online for hours at a time. Yes, usually it was a boy, but text is good for guys cause they can express things without having to look at the other person which really helps them. And yes, Nathan was one of the people who I maintained my friendship with via words/the internet. Especially over the summer, but we regularly sent each other e-mails and texts while living in the same small apartment.

Now, with Nathan gone I find myself returning to the old ways. Of the 5 close friends I've made since Nathan's death, three of them are almost exclusively via some sort of text (e-mail, texting, IM-ing) and the other two have a large component of the relationship communicated through writing. And even Kara and I have taken more to e-mailing or chatting via IM, lately.

Oh and don't forget everyday I pour my thoughts out to you here on my blog... and add to that I'm also writing a book (6 pages today! Woot!)

But I don't see anything wrong with this. I've discovered that I view a person's internet presence as a stand-in for their actual presence... so Kara and I chatted for several hours and I get the same sort of emotional buzz as I do from hanging out with her in person. It's not quite as high, and of course I will eventually need to see her in person to maintain our friendship in the long run... But it's a great substitute.

I'm not sure that we give enough credit to IM/Chat as a viable way maintain a friendship.. but while Nathan was in the hospital, it's almost all I did... all I could do. I have a friend who I have described as being "with me" during that last week of the hospital. That took place exclusively via IM conversations. Chat is wonderful, like that, though. It lets you get into deep conversation because pauses are allowed, whole thoughts are shared, and you can express emotions but not have to pay them with your physicality... It's a lot easier to say, "I think you are amazing" when you don't have to watch the other person wonder if that means that you have a secret crush. (And if you do have a secret crush, it keeps alive the hope that the crush is still a secret!) Though, to be fair, the reverse is also true and a bit more dangerous. It's a lot easier to write, "You really hurt me" than it is to say it... which also means it's easier to say very mean things in text format than it would be to say it when you have to see their face.

Another positive about chat is that I can connect with people at 1 in the morning when I would never really call them. But if I'm online and I see they are online... well we can hang out cyber-ly without having to hang out in person which would be harder and in some cases, rather inappropriate. This is a huge bonus for me as a crazy extrovert/night owl.

I guess I just don't see a problem with being a generation that's more aware of/ focused on written communication. Maybe I am more awkward socially than the generation before me... but in my mind all this text and writing isn't the cause, it's my solution.

Weekend loose ends

I said this on facebook but I think it bears repeating. Today I realized that if I wanted to be around people and there were no people to be had/I didn't want to bug my friends I could go to Starbucks. I could go to Starbucks and work on my book. It's the perfect solution, because no one will be upset at Starbucks if we are just in the same room, not talking. Plus it will force me out of my comfort zone a little bit and make me make eye contact and smile at strangers. PLUS it will mean that I'm actually getting some writing in, rather than *planning* on writing but never actually doing it, which has been basically all I've done since the class ended one page does not count as progress-- especially not in a month's time.

I do not know why it took me so long to come to think of this... I just associate Starbucks with pastors (That's Tim and my uncle Jim's fault) and college study sessions, but surely not everyone at Starbucks in a college student or a pastor.... ok it might be close, but not everyone!

I watched Crazy Stupid Love tonight and enjoyed it just as much the second time... it's good. You and me, we should watch it together some time. I think I've decided that Emma Stone is my new favorite actress. Haven't had a favorite actress for a while, but I think she is it. She's hilarious and all the best parts of Lindsay Lohan without the drugs and the diva attitude. I want to watch "The Help" now, just because I know she's in it.

I had a good weekend. Got to recharge from the holidays... I love Kadin and Jeriah but they can be exhausting... especially when they are off their schedule and excited. (Not that it isn't all worth it when Jeriah stumbles over to you in sleep-zombie mode, crawls up in your lap and knocks out.) But this weekend was good.

Also, something you should be aware of: there is going to be an event on Jan 29. Josh and Kara are putting it together and you are invited if you love me or you loved Nathan. (Though I will of course understand if you don't come, and will still assume that you love me!) More information can be found here. I'm not sure why, but I've really been expecting people to not remember or care that it's been a year, so this is a big deal to me... a way to see that people haven't forgotten about him... that's one of my biggest fears... that people will forget about him. Maybe that's why I've been expecting it... trying to not get my hopes up? And it's a way to see that people are still here for me, too... I mean Nathan would have (does?) think it's hilarious and wonderful, but honestly the party on Earth is just as much for me as it is for him. (I'm sure he'll get his own party in heaven.) So anyway, come out if you wanna and if you wouldn't mind praying for nice weather, please do... It's hard to bash controllers in snowdrifts or slushie puddles. Jan 29 last year was sunny and close to 70... I'd rather have that than the blizzard that followed a few days later. Yeah I really don't want another blizzard, maybe next year.

A conundrum wrapped in a mystery and covered in cuteness

I knew what was on my list... why didn't I bring my Wii with me?

Oh yeah... because I didn't want to mess with unplugging and unhooking and then hooking everything back up again.

But now I have 3 video games and no Wii to play them on.

However, I also have a sweet new laptop bag (my other one was falling apart and had some hard memories associated with it), Season 2 of Glee, the last HP movie, and sundry other things.

I also have this fantastic picture of Jeriah

Yeah, that kiddo is a HAM. A 3 year old firefighting ham.

I'm glad I'm going to be able to know him when he's in HS and college... he's gonna be fun.

Tomorrow I'm sleeping in for the first time in a while. It's kinda bad when it takes you until 6 days into your vacation to get to sleep in.

I'm also going to be by myself for at least part of the day and I'm hoping that with that I'll find some time to write... I keep putting it off because I'm coming to a part that's going to be harder to write, but the only way to get through it is to just dive right in, right?

riiight.

Maybe my new Zelda music will inspire me. Yep, I can't play Skyward Sword but at least I can listen to Zeldian soundtracks....

There is probably a nerd recovery program somewhere out there that's calling my name. I refuse to hear  it though. I'm too much fun as I am... A conundrum wrapped in a mystery and covered in cuteness.