Wicked Writer - Self Indulgent Online Journal

Stream of Consciousness #3

4/8/2020

I've been back to working 8 or so hours a day. I forgot all about this stream of consciousness idea until I came back here and looked. It is a decent tool and it did get my writing again. Problem is these rejections - man oh man oh man -- I wonder my Harvard Prof was so sure I'd rise above the slush piles. Maybe she meant rise above the slush piles like The Great Pumpkin rises up over a sincere pumpkin patch.

One thing that surprises me about myself -- collecting these rejection from these agents is much more difficult than I imagined. Each one that comes in tears out a little piece of me even though I KNEW that this is part of the package.

What is worse is that I'm so weak that it makes me want to stop writing.

It doesn't make me want to follow a formula. I know my writing may not be easily pigeon-holed and most agents will advise writers that they must meet this, that, and the other parameters. I feel that this is sad -- the way it is today (and maybe has been forever in one way or another) -- because I don't believe the greatest minds will fit those parameters. And the greatest works of art will definitely be overlooked because the writer is new and stubborn and won't follow the word count or genre norms or whatever.

By no means am I saying that my series is a great work. It's just a fun, scary, intense, occult series for kids that would definitely upset the Christian right (and perhaps the middle too).

Maybe I've made a mistake here trying to run with the big dogs.

I'm definitely a little, weird dog with a few autoimmune diseases.

Stream of Consciousness #2

3/28/2020

The reason I am doing the Stream of Consciousness thing is that I don't want to write. I feel my girl calling me, wondering my she has been abandoned when she is just rising up to quite the climax. I just don't have energy and I wish that I could make a bunch of money without working. I don't feel like working my day job at all either which is sad because it is one of my favorite things to do normally. But it isn't normal and the school is closed, YET, we are trying to be there for the students. It is depressing and weird and when the students see that we are close only some 10 of 200 (I guess that's 5%?) show up to our "hangouts.")

I am struggling greatly with people lately. I'm not sure exactly why because I knew that in the history of the world many people are vulnerable to group think, manipulation, scapegoating, and all the other crazy stuff that is happening right now with about half the world's population. I get upset because I have people who are in my life who I used to respect and now I don't because they are so blind to the cult leader(s) they are following.

I think it is human nature. Your parents have this authority over you when you are little, and they use Tide detergent, say. Then you grow up and you naturally gravitate to Tide detergent and feel suspicious when you start dating this girl and she uses All. Some of us -- around the age of eleven for many people -- maybe just me -- begin to question the strongly held beliefs of our parents. For me, one of the first times I remember this was when my mom was mentioning reincarnation as a... I don't know what word she used, but she definitely thought it was impossible. I just thought to myself, well why not? If you believe there is a soul that lives in a flesh and blood body, why is reincarnation any nuttier than any other religious belief.

I was the kind of kid who kept these ideas to myself, but she knew of course that I was thinking differently because she could see the books I was checking out the library. She wasn't thrilled with my choice of reading material and she said something, but here is why my mother is my hero -- she did not do anything about it. I was allowed to read whatever I wanted (outside of pornographic magazines which I did manage to get my hands on too).

Maybe I would be a different person if my parents were "helicopter" or made me feel that I couldn't think for myself.

I think I would be the same, though. I'm stubborn that way. Just because someone I love and respect thinks something, I'm still going to look at the evidence and make up my own mind. Thanks to a decent college education (The New School) I also know how to look past the headlines and find evidence. I even learned to detect problems in reliability and validity in those studies from top institutions that are generally the first ones we would turn to to look for the facts.

So that other 50% or more of individuals who are gullible (because of a lack of a specific type of education) seem like idiots to me. And then I am disappointed because these people who ARE INTELLIGENT are comparatively stupid. The intelligent ones are the worst, because in every other area of their lives, they would be those who I might consult. Here, their intelligence backfires because they do not know that they do not know! And they are used to being smarter than everyone.

Does that make sense! This is the same quality that makes a Nazi. I'm not saying they are Nazis, but I'm sorry to say that in another time and another place -- well, I don't even want to say it.

I just keep coming back to Earth here as school. And LOVE man -- LOVE is what it's all about. It's a hippie cliche, but it's true and it's the only way to fight the good fight -- even when that love has to question the wisdom of that friend who has always been the smart guy you want to turn to, but now seems like an arrogant asshole.

Sorry.

Stream of Consciousness #1 - no proofreading allowed

3/27/2020

If you are reading this I"m certain you have too much time on your hands. Where are your connectors for you iPhones? You know, so that you can listen to your Apple Music with a regular headphone jack? This makes me furious because it is all designed to force me to buy their stupid, overpriced adaptors. For that reason, I don't have an iPhone. In general, the loss of control I have experienced since I got a smart phone is quite disturbing. I was shocked at how little control I actually have regarding what goes on in that thing. Honestly I'm a bit proud of how I am not attached to my phone. I use it, for sure, but I don't get sick if I don't have it with me and I just love to "lose" it and let it run out of battery just so that I can avoid things. I am wondering what I should write, but I'm wondering about who is reading this.

It is super weird to have an online journal because it means you believe on some level that other people will want to read what you have to say which is most likely not in any way worthy of reading. It is for sure a self-absorbed action. That's fine. I do think I'm pretty wonderful and I think my writing is worth reading even when it sucks. I have a lot of self-esteem about my own thoughts. I do not have much self-esteem when it comes to actually being in social setting with tons of people. I do okay, but it causes me anxiety when it is party where people have to stand around with plates of food and mingle. I don't like to mingle. I like to be out with people I know and trust and not mingle with a bunch of people who are probably assholes who think I'm too old or white or fat or ugly or unfashionable or awkward or socially unintelligent. The other thing is that I do not drink alcohol. This isn't a conscious decision; it just all tastes like bad cough medicine to me. I do pretty darn good for someone who does not drink. I have no buzz to take the edge off of it.

I am relatively happy with isolation, but I do love to get out now and then with friends I trust. That's what makes me happy as an introvert. I love to hang out, go to pubs or restaurants with various interesting atmospheres, but I have GOT to be with people I trust. I really don't like to socialize with coworkers because it just feels like more work. I am somewhat insecure at work. Fortunately I work at home.

I don't like the whole critique idea when it comes to student and art/writing/etc. I think it should be more like theatre where there is the one expert, the one director who tells you your stuff is crap. Other students have such stupid ideas. My hand hurts from all of this typing. I wish I could tune into that "Create Your Own Realtiy" stuff from Seth that would allow me to age without aches and pains because my hand hurts.

I love Vera Farmiga but she is slipping away from me. I think she is taking a long break from acting because she is a peace seeker who just wants to be mom. That means nothing new, no series, no big roles. So I stop being in love with her because she is not there for me to love .Who will be my next TV boyfriend or girlfriend? Who will it be? I'm thinking maybe... I don't know. You can't force it. The love has to happen naturally. Maybe I should go back and watch Newsradio so that i can remember the days of Phil Hartman. He was a different sort of love.

I really don't like cursing. It's so weak. I love a lot of people who enjoy it and in my mind I think them and sometimes I say them, but I truly hesitate to write curses. It seems wrong. It seems like inviting darkness in. That makes me sound religious, but I'm not at all -- it's just a feeling I have. Instinct, intuition.

This is stream of consciousness. No proofreading so deal.

I wonder who you are. I wouldn't want to know if you were an evil troll. I hope you are a fellow human and not an evil troll or demon. I hope you are like Vera Farmiga s Lorraine Warren (you know just brimming with love and psychic powers). You are weird for sure if you read this. I love that about you. Tell me who you are weirdo.

Neal Turner, France Isabella Rossellini

March 26th, 2020

3/26/2020

Vincent Van Gogh.

I have twenty-six drafts just waiting for me to hit the publish button, but I'll never do it. I write here even more often but because it is not a typical author blog and it is well-named as a Self Indulgent Online Journal I will often write and erase or never publish because I am better off not putting every inane thought I have out for the world to see.

This is a time of coronavirus.

This has given me more time to utilize my creative energy; sadly it has robbed me of it too. I have no heart to do much of anything other than watch CNN and try to gently and diplomatically encourage idiots that they are wrong about coronavirus. I won't get into it, but let's just say that it has to do with coworkers and friends who use the Appeal to Hypocrisy argument to diminish the seriousness of this pandemic. I've also had a friend send me a supposed cure. I am disheartened.

I have learned how many people are gullible and have never learned to look at statistics and studies for (often surprising) sources of bias. Thank you The New School in NYC and Prof Hirst for teaching me. Education is brilliant. Intelligence without education can lead to very smart people coming up with some very stupid ideas.

So I would like to write some beautiful, painful, and angry poetry. I would like to work on my book. I can feel my lovely little girl character waiting for me as if on pause. But I don't even want to try. I just want to yell. I want to express how very powerless I feel. I would like to be like Ricky Gervais and just say the most offensive, biting, awful things I can think of.

So many things are bothering me right now. I think I need to just do a stream-of-consciousness series. Then, perhaps it will be time to get back to Cult Following and my lovely little character, Madeline Winter. I can feel her hovering around me as if she's real. Maybe she is. A ghost? A spirit? A Jungian thought form?

By the way, the more I keep that Far Side style portrait up, the more I actually look like her.

images.app.goo.gl/ouhV1TWpZLFNbGa29

Censoring Oneself

3/21/2020

November 22nd, 2019

11/22/2019

My college class (a Harvard Extension Class called Advanced Fiction: Writing the Middle Grade and Young Adult Novel) has got me thinking about things that I'm not at all sure I should be thinking about -- like mainstream publication. I mean, isn't that what appeals to my ego? It's as if I don't count as a writer (or as a person) unless a big, societal machine approves of me. I'm always intrigued by people who don't want fame and fortune. I definitely admire them as greater souls than I.

That's part of why I love Norma Bates as if she were my best friend and not a fictional character. She only wants to live an ordinary life, run her little hotel business, and be left alone. That humility makes me want to give her the world -- or at least the hot sheriff.

What am I really doing here? I should be writing, so I'm writing to avoid writing. So I'm erasing almost all of this nonsense and getting back to work.

Over 24 hours of weird coincidences and the film "Yesterday." Weird!!!

7/23/2019

I'm already forgetting them. I better write them down.

UPDATE! I'm so excited because the "synchronicity trend" in my life is continuing. If ONLY someone could put together the dots and lead me to some meaning. Here is the next one.
A. Yesterday, my son and I visited Covered Bridge Park in Allentown in order for him to do some volunteer hours with an outfit that trains rescue dogs. We struggled to find the right parking lot and I drove over the bridge about four times (which was scary, by the way).
B. Today, I open up my laptop and first thing Microsoft gives me is a photo of a covered bridge that I've never seen before. It's just filling up my screen. It's not as dramatic as the yellow submarine, but it's certainly a coincidence (Microsoft Edge/Bing Homepage gives me beautiful scenes every day I open my computer. Some are repeats. They are usually 100% nature. I don't use Edge or Bing, but I don't turn it off because I often research the location of the photo before I move over to Firefox or Chrome.)
PS Tried to find the covered bridge picture again, but I can't find it. Hopefully it will pop up again so I can capture it.

1. A. I thought yesterday about how there are so many people in India with the same/similar names (Sanjay Patel was a guy I worked for as a temp at Goldman Sachs back in the day; I have noticed many Sanjays and many Patels) -- even more so than with Smith/Jones/Martinez/Rodriguez (the most common names that come up in my area). B. I saw the film Yesterday (starring Himesh Patel) this evening and my husband mentioned seeing a celebrity who hails from India talking about exactly that -- that so many people in India have the same name. (I'm not sure who the celebrity is. I imagined a comedian).
2. A. Jim mentioned then that when he directed Little Shop of Horrors at a high school, one of the students involved had the last name Patel. B. Today, I read a part of my book (I'm reading my own book again to help me with continuity as I write the second volume) in which Robin tells her mother she is going to a production of Little Shop of Horrors.
3. A. In Yesterday, a little, toy, yellow submarine is an important prop. B. I came home, decided to do a short basement clean-out in order to take advantage of garbage collection tomorrow, and found myself staring at a shelf with a little yellow Beatles-inspired submarine on it. (It was a lunch box with baseball cards in it).
4. A. Was talking to John about this guy who worked at his karate dojo - super dorky high school kid. I told him this whole back story I made up about how he had been bullied and was trying to cope by taking karate. John had passed his black belt test while the older kid failed miserably even though he worked there (or appeared to work there). B. Saw the preview for a film about this very subject last night. (Again we are still in this weird 24 hours window of coincidences).
5. There is a lesser one -- just that Lily James was wearing a jean jacket with a dress and I've been doing quite a bit of debating, online window-shopping, and considering whether I should get one for my wanderings around England. This also coincides with the views of English countryside certainly being something I expect to see soon (but not in the same place). It's weird.
6. Just before leaving to see the film Yesterday, I had a film started on Amazon Prime called Spotlight but decided not to watch anything because I was going out to a movie after all. I decided I would watch it another day. B. After the film, Jim mentioned that the movie about the Boston church scandal (that's Spotlight) was one of the films that was played at his place of employment during a regular "Movie and a Mass" activity.

I have no idea what, if anything, all these synchronicities mean in one day, but here's a fun article: https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/passion/201712/synchronicities-sure-sign-youre-the-right-path

Go Back Home

7/18/2019

In the past, this has been my place to come and express my shadow side -- mostly the type of darkness and difficulty that lands in every human being's life. My life is far easier most. I don't worry about food or shelter. My children are amazing and give me little trouble. Being a human being, though, I am always reaching for more. My stupid chronic cough has been a center of my sad posts, yet I don't believe I've ever actually come to tears about it.

I guess I would say that I'm just not "a crier." Tears don't come very often. I'm generally even-tempered. But today, when I saw that terrifying Trump rally, with throngs of white people chanting, "Send her back" alongside the continuing stories of once hopeful (or desperate) immigrants in cages... the tears are here. Worse, I feel like I've been punched in the gut.

Physically, I'm just short of albino when it comes to being white (thanks to advanced vitiligo -- google it if you haven't heard of it). For the first time, I'm uncomfortable with my skin color because it matches the Trump supporters.

The other thing that bothers me is that I know that most of them are not evil, and in fact simply oblivious that they are walking an evil path. I don't understand how they don't see the connection between their attitudes and the many instances of mob rule, group thought, and rising hatred. History is repeating itself. They don't see it. Why can't they see it?

Some of these people are my relatives. And I don't know what to do. I am a person who wants to write my little screenplays and novels and hope that it might contribute to the opening of people's minds. I am not a protester, picketer, or (God forbid) politician. I sense that any statement I make with the slightest touch of anger or resentment will do nothing but put another brick in the wall between us.

The chants of "go back home" makes me want to go back home (I have a few choices - I think I'll pick Ireland or England over Russia -- that right there, in and of itself shows how easy I have it. I have the power to make a decision. How many refugees and people fleeing violence could casually consider three countries?).

I am always aware -- just under the surface -- that I am living on stolen land.

Someone's Going to the Village of Sheepwash :)

5/4/2019

It's amazing how quickly I get over bad news. Or scary news.

My lungs are growing various and sundry weird things and doctors don't know why. I had about a week of a bizarre and new kind of stress.

Then I got over it.

Then I went to the dentist for a root canal -- who referred me to an endodontist -- who referred me to an oral surgeon. Why? Another weird thing growing at the root of my tooth.

I'm starting to get used to the idea that my body does stuff without my permission and that it might or might not kill me. I'm just super chill with it all today.

Next week I might have lost that laid-back feeling.

Thinking that I might die sooner rather than later is confusing. First of all, my mother died at the age I am now so I'm a little nervous about that. That complicates that idea that people who are going to die often have a sense of impending doom. I definitely have a sense that I am going to die soon, but I can't tease that out from my concern about being that age when my mother died. My instinct cannot be trusted, because ever since my mom died my mind goes quickly to the death idea with every tension headache.

All these tests results that keep coming up with the word lesion (which is actually an incredibly nonspecific word - google it) have made my approach to my current days a bit different. I haven't done any boat rocking the way I would if I was sure I was going to die, but I have begun to think "bucket list." I am one of those people who have always put off life experiences with this idea that someday I'll be thinner or more beautiful or have no debt. When the thought of death came knocking, it made me realized that I'm not going to get younger and most certainly not (much) thinner (unless I get cancer -- suddenly thinness as a goal seems moronic). I have a bit more money these days, but if I die in the next couple of years college money is no concern thanks to a decent life insurance policy.

So what does all this boil down to?

I'm going to England for a writer's retreat. And that makes me happy. :) I've only got to live through August to get there. After that, I'll think about getting my kids (ONE at at time) overseas for bucket list trips

Earlier in the month, I "legit" thought I was going to die soon.

4/19/2019

Last year at this time I quit my job with no good prospects in front of me. This was in part because of my health (doctors are stumped, so I'll name my disease Uysterious Coughing Syndrome - you can decide how to pronounce it). The other reason factoring into leaving Arts Academy? I hated it.

When it comes to money, I am a risk taker. Logically, I should not have quit. Yet, I'm so glad I did, because I landed my dream job.

So, with everything clicking along so nicely, getting scary looking results from the routine monitoring of my Usterious C-S made perfect sense in a world that often appears to be run by a nine-year-old god with conduct disorder and impulse control "differences." He is pouring lighter fluid on our beautifully constructed ant hills (e.g. Notre Dame) and crushing us with his foot every time we get a little too confident. This particular imaginary god is definitely a boy. Sorry boys.

Clearly, I'm still in a bad mood, and that makes me cynical. I am not truly cynical -- honestly -- but when my goals for life seem like they are purposely being thwarted by nature, then I get a little cranky and sarcastic.

I am less convinced that I am going to die, which is good. I'm not fully convinced. It has been interesting living through those few days, though, trying to figure it out. I was filling out some quicky-internet will and thinking about leaving messages for my children and how best to do that. Coincidentally, I have been watching After Life with Ricky Gervais and I wondered if it had something to do with the great patterns I see coming about in my life that ultimately never do me as much good as I imagine they should.

The point is, my lungs look terrible and they are loaded with nodules - even the "ground glass" type which is associated with lung cancer. Sounds like cancer. Yet it is looking like inflammation from Usterious Coughing Syndrome - so after a course of prednisone they will probably shrink or go away. And I don't have any other cancer symptoms. So I get to be on prednisone and wait three months.

In the meantime, I will take it as a wake-up call to get ready to die (everybody ought to). I'll get my will figured out and begin writing more so I can leave more of my thoughts and hopes for my children... to my children. I hate that my parents died when I was young and that they have been gone so long and missed so much (well, they may have seen everything - god forbid - but I haven't been able to enjoy the flesh and blood realities of parents in a moment of my adult life.).

The one thing I thought that I want to do before I die is be less guarded and more honest. Being a teacher, there is pressure to be careful about what you say and do. I'm not saying that my desire is to say or do anything terribly controversial - but I do avoid expressing some thought that I have about religion, spirituality, and society in the raw way that I would like to. I am careful with my words, but I'm not sure that makes a ton of sense. I am not generally a fan of the "F" word because it is overused (blame Six Feet Under and The Sopranos for the trend) and used as filler so often that it has lost its power. Yet for someone who does not curse regularly, I think I have a right to use it in a judicious - and perhaps funny - way that makes me feel powerful. You -- reading this -- may not understand. But this, after all, is not your self-indulgent online journal. It's mine.

I just saw a show on creativity and one of the great creators talked about how honesty is so important in creativity. Honesty can be tough. It can make a person feel vulnerable. I'm going to take a deep breath and share the overwhelming thought I had when I thought I was going to die earlier in this month:

For most of my life, I have been 5'7", 165 pounds (give or take five), and "pretty" by white-girl societal standards. I am strong. I'm a good runner. I am not all muscle. I am not all fat. In no way do I live up to the "thin ideal." Thinking I would die soon, I looked back on my life and thought about how much I resent every person who ever made me feel like I was not okay the way I was. In other words -- how many people encouraged me to lose weight, talked behind my back about my weight or size, or judged me without ever knowing me because of my size. The worst offender in all of this was me -- but young me was also a victim of the hundreds or thousands of messages I got that I needed to change - that I would be better, happier, and more worthy if I changed. In my fifties now, looking back on that.. I wish I could tell every one of those people to fuck off and figure out your own problems.

Hey, Every One of You: