My husband has challenged me to write for one hour per day, in an effort to hone my skills. Mainly, I think it's because he's tired of listening to me moan about how I don't know what to do with my life...but he seems to think that I am actually a fairly good writer and that I should be actively pursuing what he sees as God-given talent...
My grandmother told me the same thing when I was ten...this after starting a story about being a soldier in World War I...a story that I never finished, because with her praise, I became paralyzed by the thought of continuing...what if the rest of the story wasn't as good as the beginning?
And so I sit here, staring at the screen, waiting for some sort of inspiration to hit me...after delaying the start of my "hour" for about as long as possible...I got the kids off to school, Brian off to work, the dog walked, the kitchen cleaned, laundry taken care of...each time the thought started to cross my mind, "um, you should probably head to the computer now", I found another small task that needed to be completed...
Brian thinks I'm afraid of failure. And of success.
Which kind of makes me crazy, don't you think?
How can you be afraid of both at the same time?
It's not like I've never written anything before...page after page of bad (and sometimes outright depressing) poetry while I dealt with many issues from my childhood, short little stories for the kids...journal after journal since I was a kid myself...and then there's this blog...I've been doing this for a couple of years now...I've written articles for on-line magazines...technically, I'm a published author...
But the weight of "what-if-I'm-not-good-enough?" sends me into enough of an emotional tail spin that it's just easier to sit and play Bejeweled Blitz on the computer...
And when your husband and several of your friends are really good writers, it makes the pressure (at least in my own mind) even worse...
So the question is, do I have what it takes to actually see this thing through? I know that many people in my life, both past and present, have this idea that I'm a take-no-prisoners-don't-get-in-my-effing-way kind of person, but in reality? It's an act. I'm more likely to curl into a ball and beat myself up until I believe that I'm not any good at anything and that I never will be...that ugly voice has been with me since I was six years old and no matter how many times I've tried to shut her up and out, she keeps finding a way back into my head...
I keep telling my girls to "find their power" when they come to me whining about something that one of their brothers did (usually kicking them off the computer or the television)...I'm trying to take my own advice...because just for once, I want to finish what I start and finally kick that nasty bitch inside my head out so that she's never able to come back in...
Monday, January 10, 2011
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Well, Of Course It Does...
My husband called a short while ago, just to say hello (all together now: "Awwww...")...and while on the phone with him, I updated him about Ian's trip to the clinic this morning (turns out that while the boy does not, thankfully, have either pneumonia nor bronchitis, he does need to use a puffer for the next two to three weeks to help with the nasty cough he's developed)...
I also mentioned, while staring at the disaster that is our house two days before Christmas, that I had no idea where to start cleaning because there was so much to do...
His soothing words of wisdom?
"Don't worry about it, it always gets done..."
Well, of course it does!...I'm the one who does it!
Yeesh....
I also mentioned, while staring at the disaster that is our house two days before Christmas, that I had no idea where to start cleaning because there was so much to do...
His soothing words of wisdom?
"Don't worry about it, it always gets done..."
Well, of course it does!...I'm the one who does it!
Yeesh....
Friday, December 17, 2010
Thursday, December 9, 2010
At The Moment I Am Definitely Not Feeling The Spirit...
It's December 9, which means its 16 days to Christmas, but the last thing I feel right now is jolly or holly or filled with the Spirit of Christmas...
Why, you may ask?
Because I came home from a quick trip to the grocery store tonight and found someone parked right in front of my parking spot (we have assigned spots here in our condo), and illegally, to boot (she was parked directly under the No Parking sign...the one that is designated for emergency vehicles only? Yeah, that spot...)
When I indicated that she needed to move so that I could get my car into my spot (and let's be clear, I don't drive some little mini "smart" car that can fit into a spot the size of a milk carton...I drive a VAN. We need room to manoever.), she shook her head "no" at me. I sat behind her, waiting for her to get the hint. She moved. A foot. I still sat behind her. I rolled down my window as she got out of her car and called to her, "You can't park there, it's a no parking zone and I have to get into my spot!" She said, "I'm just unloading my stuff..." to which I replied, "Doesn't matter, it's a no parking zone and I can't get in with you there," thinking that logic should prevail and she would move her vehicle.
She did.
One foot.
By that time I was annoyed and even Mariah Carey belting out "All I Want For Christmas" (which has been my happy-feel-good-song this season) didn't help...and so I waited behind her car, pointing at the spot I wanted.
She moved another half foot.
I managed to get into my spot, but because of the angle at which I had to enter, ended up having to reverse the van so I could straighten the thing out. I saw my headlights shining on the side of her car, which was when I put the brakes on, despite the fact that I wanted to hit her car.
I got out of my van at the same time that she jumped out of her car, screaming at me that I had hit her car. (I didn't, for the record) She grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down my license plate number, spewing f-bombs at me faster than I've ever heard before (and believe me, I've been f-you'd more than a few times in my life)...when I told her she didn't need to swear at me, she barked off another f-you at me..."I'm calling my insurance company!"
"Go ahead," I told her, maintaining the appearance of calm (even if it was the last thing I felt). "You were parked illegally. Besides, if I'd hit you, I would have felt it."
And I walked toward my front door, glad it was dark out and she couldn't see me shaking. She screamed at me one more time, "You backed into my car!" to which I replied, oh so maturely, "Whatever..."
Once safely inside my own house, I told Brian, who was trying to finish his last two articles of the day, about what had happened. He listened to me, and then at my request, he went out to talk to the woman. See, as a rule, my husband is way more diplomatic than me, and he has the ability to not only assess a situation accurately, but is also capable of thinking of things instantly that most others (okay, me) don't think about until long after the fact. And so I sent him out into the fray (to defend my honor?). He came back and his words of wisdom and support were, "Don't worry about it."
Wh-a-a-t?
An hour or so after the fact, I can see why he said it...there really isn't anything I can do to prevent her from making a claim and the only recourse I have is to tell the truth and hope that I am the one who is believed.
Unlike my husband, however, I do not have the ability to just "let it go until tomorrow"...I have always chewed and stewed over things, wishing that I had handled the situation differently or that I could have said something wittier, more biting, nastier...something that would have hurt that obnoxious witch to the quick...in short, something written by someone else...this whole "let it be" stuff is just not my style (not that Brian hasn't been trying to teach me for the last 14 or so years)...
My friend Ian came over to loan me a cat crate for tomorrow (our kitten is being neutered, thank goodness, tomorrow morning-more on that at a later date), and Brian and I asked him what he knew about the woman who lived next door to him. She's a lovely lady, he informed us. Really? We told him what had happened and he replied, "Oh, that's not Helen, that's her daughter."
Ian told Brian and I that the neighbor has two daughters...one who is perfectly lovely and the one I had a run in with. The word "bitch" was a nice way of describing her, based on Ian's observations.
Clearly this woman is the one with the problem, not me.
But for now, I am dealing with the aftereffects of the adrenaline dump and not feeling so ho-ho-ho...I am going to hope and pray that the insurance companies believe me, not her...
The kids are starting to watch "Shrek The Halls"...so I'm going to go join them and use my babies as my feel good tonic tonight...cuddling up with four people who love me unconditionally (5 if you count Brian) sounds like the right medicine to me...
Why, you may ask?
Because I came home from a quick trip to the grocery store tonight and found someone parked right in front of my parking spot (we have assigned spots here in our condo), and illegally, to boot (she was parked directly under the No Parking sign...the one that is designated for emergency vehicles only? Yeah, that spot...)
When I indicated that she needed to move so that I could get my car into my spot (and let's be clear, I don't drive some little mini "smart" car that can fit into a spot the size of a milk carton...I drive a VAN. We need room to manoever.), she shook her head "no" at me. I sat behind her, waiting for her to get the hint. She moved. A foot. I still sat behind her. I rolled down my window as she got out of her car and called to her, "You can't park there, it's a no parking zone and I have to get into my spot!" She said, "I'm just unloading my stuff..." to which I replied, "Doesn't matter, it's a no parking zone and I can't get in with you there," thinking that logic should prevail and she would move her vehicle.
She did.
One foot.
By that time I was annoyed and even Mariah Carey belting out "All I Want For Christmas" (which has been my happy-feel-good-song this season) didn't help...and so I waited behind her car, pointing at the spot I wanted.
She moved another half foot.
I managed to get into my spot, but because of the angle at which I had to enter, ended up having to reverse the van so I could straighten the thing out. I saw my headlights shining on the side of her car, which was when I put the brakes on, despite the fact that I wanted to hit her car.
I got out of my van at the same time that she jumped out of her car, screaming at me that I had hit her car. (I didn't, for the record) She grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down my license plate number, spewing f-bombs at me faster than I've ever heard before (and believe me, I've been f-you'd more than a few times in my life)...when I told her she didn't need to swear at me, she barked off another f-you at me..."I'm calling my insurance company!"
"Go ahead," I told her, maintaining the appearance of calm (even if it was the last thing I felt). "You were parked illegally. Besides, if I'd hit you, I would have felt it."
And I walked toward my front door, glad it was dark out and she couldn't see me shaking. She screamed at me one more time, "You backed into my car!" to which I replied, oh so maturely, "Whatever..."
Once safely inside my own house, I told Brian, who was trying to finish his last two articles of the day, about what had happened. He listened to me, and then at my request, he went out to talk to the woman. See, as a rule, my husband is way more diplomatic than me, and he has the ability to not only assess a situation accurately, but is also capable of thinking of things instantly that most others (okay, me) don't think about until long after the fact. And so I sent him out into the fray (to defend my honor?). He came back and his words of wisdom and support were, "Don't worry about it."
Wh-a-a-t?
An hour or so after the fact, I can see why he said it...there really isn't anything I can do to prevent her from making a claim and the only recourse I have is to tell the truth and hope that I am the one who is believed.
Unlike my husband, however, I do not have the ability to just "let it go until tomorrow"...I have always chewed and stewed over things, wishing that I had handled the situation differently or that I could have said something wittier, more biting, nastier...something that would have hurt that obnoxious witch to the quick...in short, something written by someone else...this whole "let it be" stuff is just not my style (not that Brian hasn't been trying to teach me for the last 14 or so years)...
My friend Ian came over to loan me a cat crate for tomorrow (our kitten is being neutered, thank goodness, tomorrow morning-more on that at a later date), and Brian and I asked him what he knew about the woman who lived next door to him. She's a lovely lady, he informed us. Really? We told him what had happened and he replied, "Oh, that's not Helen, that's her daughter."
Ian told Brian and I that the neighbor has two daughters...one who is perfectly lovely and the one I had a run in with. The word "bitch" was a nice way of describing her, based on Ian's observations.
Clearly this woman is the one with the problem, not me.
But for now, I am dealing with the aftereffects of the adrenaline dump and not feeling so ho-ho-ho...I am going to hope and pray that the insurance companies believe me, not her...
The kids are starting to watch "Shrek The Halls"...so I'm going to go join them and use my babies as my feel good tonic tonight...cuddling up with four people who love me unconditionally (5 if you count Brian) sounds like the right medicine to me...
Thursday, December 2, 2010
It's December Already?
How the heck did that happen?
And where is all the snow Ottawa is supposed to get?
Brian's cousins in Glasgow (that would be Scotland, for those who know of other Glasgows) keep posting on Facebook about how much snow they've been getting...which is kind of weird for them, I will admit...
Meanwhile in the snow capital of the world (Ottawa is the second coldest capital in the whole world...we found that out a few years back-which means we usually have tons of the white stuff by now), we've just spent two days dealing with a "heavy rainfall warning" put out by Environment Canada...something that has made my four children a wee bit cranky...cranky might be an understatement...to Ian, the lack of snow translates into the end of the world as we know it (you should have seen the look on his face when I told him about the year it rained on December 25 and we had a green Christmas...
To be fair, I'm a little tired of the constant gray clouds and the sad state of the landscape...there's something a little depressing about seeing the naked trees and rotting grass...even if I get tired of dealing with the four sets of snowsuits, umpteen boots, hats and mittens, at least the snow makes things look pretty...
Well, until March anyway...by then, I'll be pining for the fresh scent of spring and the end of dirty, slushy snow...
But for now, I'm dreaming of a white Christmas...just like the ones I used to know...oh sing along, it's coming whether you like it or not...get in the spirit...with every Christmas card I write...
And where is all the snow Ottawa is supposed to get?
Brian's cousins in Glasgow (that would be Scotland, for those who know of other Glasgows) keep posting on Facebook about how much snow they've been getting...which is kind of weird for them, I will admit...
Meanwhile in the snow capital of the world (Ottawa is the second coldest capital in the whole world...we found that out a few years back-which means we usually have tons of the white stuff by now), we've just spent two days dealing with a "heavy rainfall warning" put out by Environment Canada...something that has made my four children a wee bit cranky...cranky might be an understatement...to Ian, the lack of snow translates into the end of the world as we know it (you should have seen the look on his face when I told him about the year it rained on December 25 and we had a green Christmas...
To be fair, I'm a little tired of the constant gray clouds and the sad state of the landscape...there's something a little depressing about seeing the naked trees and rotting grass...even if I get tired of dealing with the four sets of snowsuits, umpteen boots, hats and mittens, at least the snow makes things look pretty...
Well, until March anyway...by then, I'll be pining for the fresh scent of spring and the end of dirty, slushy snow...
But for now, I'm dreaming of a white Christmas...just like the ones I used to know...oh sing along, it's coming whether you like it or not...get in the spirit...with every Christmas card I write...
Monday, November 8, 2010
Oh That Emma...
This weekend, my in-laws came for a visit before their annual avoid-the-winter-at-all-costs pilgrimage to Florida.
They originally hail from Glasgow, Scotland and my mother-in-law (after nearly 42 years in this country) still has a fairly strong accent...
During dinner Saturday night, the kids were trying to imitate my mil's accent...to which she finally replied, "You want to talk like me? I'd like to talk like you!"
Emma's response?
"What? You want to scream and yell?"
Well, at least she hears herself...
They originally hail from Glasgow, Scotland and my mother-in-law (after nearly 42 years in this country) still has a fairly strong accent...
During dinner Saturday night, the kids were trying to imitate my mil's accent...to which she finally replied, "You want to talk like me? I'd like to talk like you!"
Emma's response?
"What? You want to scream and yell?"
Well, at least she hears herself...
Thursday, November 4, 2010
The Difference That Three Little Letters Can Make...
This morning's gem from Emma:
Emma: "You know, my teacher Mrs. O'Toole is very forgettable."
Me: "Do you mean 'forgetful'?"
Emma: "Dat's what I said...she's very forgettable...she says she's always forgetting things..."
Emma: "You know, my teacher Mrs. O'Toole is very forgettable."
Me: "Do you mean 'forgetful'?"
Emma: "Dat's what I said...she's very forgettable...she says she's always forgetting things..."
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