Denial

I'm choosing to blame college for my lack of writing here in this blog.


But really I think that I'm simply to impatient to go through the sign in process on Blogger. Jesus, what a tool I am huh.

"I was a Playboy bunny"

I have been doing a lot of reading over this summer break. A fantastic hobby that it is sad to say I am not always able to indulge in as much as I would like.

However, there hasn't been much writing... The silence on this here blog is evidence enough of that. Although, to give a bit of credit, I have worked on a few (read 2) short story fiction pieces for my "I am a woman" collection. Still the age old mantra is "writers write" and I have been slacking.

I worry constantly about not being a good writer, not making it, not "growing up" to be a writer, a journalist like I had always hoped. But I had an epiphany the other day, an epiphany that I have sadly had before and apparently chose to forget. How will I ever know if I'll make it, or if I'm good enough if I never jump in to begin with? I read somewhere that a writer isn't a writer until they have a pile of rejection letters. That every rejection letter is one step closer to publication. It seems common sense! How can you make the team if you don't try out? Silly me... too afraid of failure to do anything other than sit and wait for something to fall out of the sky.


ON TO THE REAL TOPIC OF THE DAY

Like I was saying; I've been doing some reading...

Currently I'm reading Gloria Steinem's Outrageous Acts and Everyday Rebellions and have stopped 3/4ths of the way through her essay piece titled "I was a playboy bunny" to discuss the Playboy Empire and the debatable genius of Hugh Hefner.

(Gloria Steinem working in a Playboy club as a bunny)

I personally am thinking he is a genius.

Yes, it goes without saying that his treatment of the bunnies working his playboy club was appalling and quite sexist, but business wise you can't argue that Hefner capitalized on a great idea. Selling sex. And wether his multitude of younge, blonde, and busty girlfriends is to bulster his image and thereby his business or simpley for pleasure (a little of both I assume) it works.

Day dreamer

Lately I have been browsing NYC Manhattan craigslist looking at apartments... I am much more partial to quirky little spaces with exposed brick and characteristic moldings. Spaces old with big bright windows overlooking busy city streets or lush city gardens.
I've also been looking at Boston craigslist, Paris craigslist, and London craigslist. I live in California and just last month signed a year long lease for a new apartment.
I don't know what it is but I've been feeling that this is not where I belong. My time to fulfil childhood dreams of waking up in a little apartment on the island of Manhattan is now! The time to explore historic redbrick buildings and cobblestone streets in Boston is now! The chance to sit in a cafe sipping a vintage Merlot in Spain and reflect on the running of the bulls is this day! This is the moment to stand under Big Ben as he strikes 12!
Perhaps I should have moved out to the city rather than "10 mins over the bridge," perhaps then I might be more content, a little less restless. I don't think so. I think the air is different out here on the west coast and for now I've had my fill. I'm craving life, an adventure, more time to write, and many things I can't begin to describe.


On the financial front I have made 2 purchases in the last few days but I am quite confident that they will be investments.

The first I actually went halves on with my boyfriend so I'm only spending about 10$ a month. We got a 3 DVD's at a time subscription to netflix for 17$ plus tax. This is perfect for us because we don't have cable or TV of any kind and there are only so many times you can watch the same movies over and over. Plus a Hollywood video and Blockbuster membership cost around 40$ a month (or 5$ a movie if you forgo the subscription). I don't think this purchase will impede my saving or jeopardize my financial standing right now.

The second thing I purchased was a 1 year subscription (12 issues) to Self magazine and a 1 year subscription (again 12 issues) to Glamour magazine for a combined total of 20$ (plus tax)! I'm a fan of self (most fitness magazines actually) and every time I have hap pend upon Glamour I have enjoyed it so i thought it would be a good deal considering that newsstand price is $4. I love magazines in general and would buy them all if I could but this is a nice/cheap starter. Soon maybe I'll get the subscription to Bitch that I have been wanting for so long. (4 issues for 20$)

Well....

I am counting down the days until friday. Until payday!
In an effort to save some money for a much needed (ok desired) vacation to Southern CA to see my BFF after her year long stint with Americor in PA I have been on a strict budget.
My goal was to make 213$ last for 2 weeks. In those two weeks I had to pay my car registration ($113), groceries ($100 aprox), gas, ect. The point is I went blew through that 213$ pretty fast! In fact I went 17$ past. So here it is Tuesday and I have 4$ to my name because that is all the money I could find in my car.

I've been working a lot of overtime though so hopefull this coming check and the one following it will be nice and big.

There are so many things I want, big things, things that would mean more to me than a $4.95 smoothie from blendzers or that $5 new facial scrub or that $14 conditioner that, lets be hinest works just as good as the $5 one. I could run out and buy a bunch of new clothes and shoes and some rugs and potted plants for my patio, an I-pod, a new digital camera OR I could keep saving, keep living on a budget until my savings is built up enough for that month long backpacking trip though europe or for my relocation to NYC.

I'm dreaming again and as great as it feels it also makes me a litte sad. "How will I get there?" I think.

Life

I have a new post in the works.

Life has thrown me some lemons and I am struggling to make lemonade. Patience.

update

I have been very sick this past week. I spent my whole spring break in bed with a fever or at work with a fever.

Rest assured posts here shall resume shortly.

Dear germs,

Please get the fuck out of my body.
I am not going through this pnemunia shit again.
Thanks!

Theblankpg

Lip gloss for me or for Cosmo?

"In the interview I conducted with Eve Ensler, she spoke so eloquently about beauty and mutilation, beauty and violence. She says that when women allow themselves to be objectified, when men see them as objects, they are more likely to commit violence against themselves-or at least the objectification to the point of mutilation. And their deaths are the ultimate sacrifice to the beauty myth."
--American Beauty Myth, Documentary filmmaker Darryl Roberts looks behind the mirror. Taken from the Spring 08 issue of Bitch (also known as The wired issue or issue #39)

In our modern world where supermodels have become role models and female political powerhouses have sadly become punch lines a fine line has developed between "looking good to feel good" and "looking good to keep up." It is a difficult line to try and define because at its base isn't looking good to feel good about yourself still an issue of vanity? Does it not still come down to the reflections of ourselves that we get from other people (i.e. we want others to think well of us)?

For example, Janice is told by her husband and some close friends that lately she seems angry, tense, not at all the old fun loving, carefree, and smiling Janice they once knew. Her smile lines have been replaced with a furrowing brow, her overall demeanor has become hard. Janice is not surprised. She feels angry, tense, she longs for her old self but simply doesn't know how to get in touch with her. At the advice of some friends Janice begins a yoga class. She meditates and finds a way to let go of her anger, her frustrations and welcome a new calmer version of herself. Janice's husband and friends begin to remark on her change. "You're glowing," a friend says. "You look beautiful, younger," her husband tells her. While Janice may say she started yoga to help herself feel better wasn't it also because her friends (aka her society) told her she should/needed to? Her taking yoga (instigating a physical change) was a direct result of her society telling her "hey, you need to fix what you got going on right now," or more simply "you need to make a change."

I think back through my own history of physical and beauty related metamorphosis. In my junior year of high school I lost 30 lbs initially because my mother said I was getting fat, but also to battle a family history of diabetes. I cannot lie, however, my biggest motivation was the fact that I would be more appealing with less weight. I would be prettier if I was thin I thought. I chemically straightened and hacked off 20 inches of my hair in my sophomore year of high school in an effort to silence the teasing I received from my friends and classmates for my lions mane of curls. (You must remember that before Shakira came along hair as big as a house (house hair we called it) was not popular.) In November of last year I again began to lose weight. This time, however, I vowed not to diet, not to be concerned with numbers, to simply eat healthy and exercise regularly.

It's easy to get obsessed about your body. I have found myself in the mindset recently of "if I can't control anything else in my life at the very least I can control my body, my weight." I set goals of making it to the gym 5 times a week and berate myself when I skip out on a session, or two, or three. I'll stand in front of the mirror and scrutinize the flab on my arms, my hips, my thighs, dear god-is that a spider vein I see? The more I begin to notice every inch, every pooch, the worse I begin to feel about myself. It turns from dieting and exercising for my health to dieting and exercising for society. So my boyfriend will think I'm attractive, so members of the opposite sex won't quickly look away when I walk by, so I could stand next to (insert any female celebrity name here) and not look like a city block. And yet at other times I think I look damn good and an extra wiggle comes into my step.

So what gives? How can one day I feel disgusting and the next feel attractive?

The above mentioned article and quote really got me thinking a lot about these things. Lately for example I have been contemplating visiting a dermatologist to get rid of the few acne scars I have on my cheeks and generally improve my skin. Who would I be doing this for? No one has ever made a comment about my skin (to my face at least) but it has always been something I have looked at and thought "god I wish I had smoother skin, more even skin tone, smaller pores, none of these scars, ect." But why do I think that? Because every model in every magazine has the pristine, glowing skin of a 10 year old? Because I am hugely jealous of my (few) friends who have incredible skin? I'm still going because I know as I age my skin will only get worse so I'd like to at least start out with some semi good skin. But I will go with the knowledge that I was born with bad skin genes and taking a scalpel or chemical to my face isn't going to change that.

Winners are only losers who quit while they were ahead

It appears I've been at this for two weeks now. Two whole weeks and I haven't quit! I had friends in high school who couldn't stay in a relationship this long so I feel deserving of a small round of golf claps.

Today was celebrated with 4 small earthquakes here in the beautiful state of CA all happening in a 2 and a half hour period this evening. Definitely made my work day a bit more exciting.

That wasn't what I originally logged into blogger to blog about but I can't seem to recall why I did log in....

We'll come back to this shall we?

The past few weeks have had me in a bit of a funk, to be honest. There are quite a few big decisions looming above my head waiting to be made. There were until the other day (Tuesday to be exact) joined by a large cloud of self doubt. It's very difficult sometimes for me to look around at the 19 year old kid on Oprah who just published their 2nd novel, or the 22 year old publishing assistant living it up in NYC, and not question myself or my writing ability. When you want something so bad it is inevitable that at one time (or multiple times) you doubt yourself. I was in a serious pity puddle, wallowing about. "I'm no good at writing! No magazine would ever publish me! How can a no talent like me get an internship? Everything I write belongs in the trash!" I have a very hard time not editing while I write, and try as I might during these bouts of self doubt I erase more than I write. And so it was perfect timing that on Tuesday I went in for a conference with my creative writing professor. I kid you not, I had been sweating this conference for two weeks that's how nervous I was. She said she was enjoying my work and thought I had excellent voice and style and definitely "have more than a chance" of getting work or getting published.

Oh god this is starting to sound a bit egotistical isn't it? My point is simply that I am out of my cloud of doom and have become much more productive so I shall stop now before I begin sounding pretentious.

Joyce Carol Oates. That is all.

To continue our previous thought...

If one was to approach the question of single girl despair logically they would most likely point out that in prehistoric times the overall goal of life was to thrive and procreate and thus partnering was indeed vitally important. Indeed I might choose a slobbering, hairy, neanderthal over living alone, cold, hungry, and barren in a cave given the choice. But even then the goal was to chose the best partner was it not? The best slobbering, seal clubbing, hairy man you could find. You wouldn't have settled for anything other than the best unless... well unless you weren't the best bitch in the cave? OK, so I really don't know the mating habits and preferences of our prehistoric ancestors but still in the game of mating one should be selective of their mates. So again, why the phrase "snatch him up"? Men certainly don't sit around telling each other to quickly snatch up the first girl they see who knows a thing or two about football, or maybe they do. Perhaps there are divisions among men and women- those willing and able to snatch and settle and the more selective types.

Another thing I find completely ridiculous: single girls who spend their day as an amazonian goddess, kicking ass in 4 inch stilettos only to go home at night and cry because they don't have someone to cuddle with.



Granted companionship is a great thing and a relationship can be very beneficial but surely it is not so direly needed? Companionship can be found elsewhere than with a lover. I had a friend once claim that single women can't be friends with women in relationships. That once a women enters into a relationship she changes and no longer is able to understand the plight of the single girl. I didn't know there was a plight to begin with, but to divide women so drasticly seemed a bit unneeded to me. True to her word though this friend dumped every single girl she knew when she met her current boyfriend, wonder how that's working out...

Snatch and Grab

These days being single is tres trendy. More and more we hear about the power of the single girl, their independence, their "fuck you world I don't need a big muscled shoulder to cry on" attitude. And while I am in total support of this sentiment and believe that there is at times nothing better than being a single girl, I must ask something.

Why is it that the most often heard advice from woman to woman is to "snatch up" the first nice, straight guy they meet. I know you've heard it before, countless times I'm sure. "That nice man on the bus who gave up his seat for you...quick snatch him up before someone else does! The dude who stopped to help pick up the 47 odd envelopes you just dropped all over the sidewalk at his feet... get him while you still can! I understand that dating is difficult and that nice, clean, intelligent men are becoming harder and harder to find. However, why are we told to snatch up the first nice guy we find? What if that nice guy only reads Marvel comics, or farts in bed, or refuses to try anything other than missionary? What if his mother still wipes his ass, or (insert some other deal breaker here)? Are we still to snatch him up and settle with his flaws simply because the idea of spending the next few months or yes even years as a single, solitary woman is too disparaging?

I get it, I really do, a good man is hard to find, but I am a firm believer that a good woman is harder to keep.

Impressing on woman the idea that we are too picky, our standards set too high, that we should simply snatch up the first man to smile at us in thanks for holding open the door is, to put it simply, ridiculous.

Double-dog doubt you will

This week has been especially frustrating in numerous aspects. There is an ominous cloud of grey hanging above my head and it's growing blacker by the hour.

I am struggling in school, it feels as if I am barely keeping my head above water. The early morning classes are killing me and, I cannot tell a lie, I have been absent more than I care to admit. More than I know is acceptable. Here I am in the semester before I graduate and I can't even show up to class on a regular basis. I am shooting myself in the foot! Let me wave goodbye to the previous semesters 4.0 GPA while I can still spot it on the horizon, bye-bye!

My writing is really suffering. In class my erasure works harder than my pen. What meager writing I do produce is terrible. I doubt my writing ability now more than I ever have before. I don't think all the desire and passion in the world can make up for my lack of skill.

On top of it all I am supposed to be deciding which college to transfer to and all I can think about is how I didn't apply to any of the really good journalism schools and will therefore never get a job or become a writer.

Like I said, ominous cloud growing BIGGER and BLACKER by the hour.

Feelings are so hard to hold onto

Today I went on a really great walk up at Lake Chabot. The sun was setting, the trees were a beautiful emerald green, the grass waved lazily in tune with the breeze. It was an amazing sight to take in, momentary perfection.
It's moments and visions like this I wish I could remember forever in order to draw back on for inspiration, but alas my camera died the moment I took it out to get a picture.

2 of the poems I have been working on

"Heave"

A dust swells suffocating
the lungs heavy with grime.
Wind escapes from between cracked lips.
The final note.

Sun races to color in a paper sky
blue and bright.
Whistling trees
a tune of children laughing.

Rotted flesh clings to bone
greedily earth feeds off decay.
Heavy lays the heart
swallowed in the feast.

Wet lips touch
an-ti-ci-pa-tion stripped down
pink flesh meets pink flesh
new breath comes from the coffin of the earth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


"Genisis to Revelations"

Flowers stand a gape
open arms refuse to close
an endless reach.
a point of no return.
we drift homewards
cradled amongst our decaying brethren
we wait.
the earth takes us in.


I've stared at these two poems for far to long and am really begining to feel as if they are the house guest that won't leave. There is nothing left to say to them and their terrible stench is getting to me!

Fish out of water

Is it crazy that I am already feeling really excited about this new space? Since creating it a few hours ago all I want to do is come back and write!

We are looking at poetry in my creative writing class this week and I really dread attempting to write poetry for a few reasons but mainly because I stink at it. So instead of attempting to write poetry I have just been reading a lot of it lately in an effort to observe as many different formats and styles as I can. I'm trying to look at how poets get emotions or actions across in their poems with their word choice. Today, I've been reading some poems from Sylvia Plath and Emily Dickinson, both at times really emotional writers, which I love.

I've been playing around with a couple writings, but they feel a bit lackluster. To be honest I am a prose girl. If you want lengthy, descriptive emotion or even a short to the point editorial piece, I'm your girl! But tell me you want three poems by next Tuesday and I feel like a fish out of water. Don't get me wrong, I've written poetry in the past and once even had a poem published, but honestly I don't think I'm very good at it. Poetry is a cruel and demanding mistress! Every word I question, is it the right word? Is it excess? Is it conveying such and such emotion?

But I digress, the whole point of this was I better get off my ass and start writing some poems and so I go!

Words beget words

A writer writes.

An obvious statement but alas something I continually take for granted. I forget that writing and writers need foundation, support, experience, history if you will. I do write. But as a young aspiring writer in a world where EVERYONE is a young aspiring writer I should be throwing myself headfirst into it. I should be drowning amongst my words! I let the many responsibilities of life (i.e. bills, making $$, school, celebrity gossip) distract me from putting pen onto paper. I write for school, I write for the paper, I write for my creative writing professor... but I don't write for me anymore.

And so here I am.

My mission is to write everyday. Be it a story, an critique, a thought, an opinion, a fragment of an idea, or (if hell freezes over) a poem.

To improve and develop ones writing one should write.

Again, I know, but denial is not simply a river in Egypt.

There is another reason for this blog. I am hoping to get over my fear/nausea of (self) publishing/ publicizing more intimate writings. I've been published before: in the paper, a poem once, a zine, but a fear of failure (without a doubt my worst fear) keeps me from publishing stories, emotional pieces, ect.

Also, it seems that blogging is a great way for writers to get out there and get noticed while developing a portfolio so to speak.

Image credit to samyell @ flickr