Stuck

I feel stuck.

I constantly have blog posts rattling around in my head, but I can't seem to commit them to this blog.

I've been unemployed for almost a year, and I still have no idea what I want to do next -- although I am not crazy about the idea of going to work for someone else again.

I have probably applied for more than 50 jobs, and I'm not getting any bites, despite revising my resume and following up with phone calls.

I want to freelance more, but I'm not sure how to get it going.

Stuck.

Maybe just admitting it out loud will help me get unstuck.

Like Pink said, I'm not dead

Yes, I have been away -- so long that BlogHer disabled my ads. Can't blame them. But here's what's been going on:

• M bought a new building for his business. It's a great property, but it needs work. So we've been busting butt coordinating repairs and decor for a grand opening in the middle of May. I am very excited for him. Time to take the law firm to the next level.
  
• The Boo continues to grow like a weed and talk up a storm. He is a wonderful child but is starting to get willful in ways only a 2-year-old can, e.g., lying on the floor and screaming, hitting, biting. That behavior is infrequent, but it still pisses me off when it happens.
  
• Between taking care of a toddler and helping M with his business, I have picked up some freelance writing gigs. The thought of going to work for someone else again really doesn't appeal to me, so I'm thinking of starting my own freelance business, since M's new office building includes office space for me.
  
• I am spreading mulch and cleaning up the yard. It's a bitch and a half, but it's great exercise, and the yard looks great.
  
• We continue to work on trying to have Baby No. 2.

So you see why I've been away. What's up with you?

Christmas wrapping

We're moving into the home stretch with our Christmas shopping. Tree's up, Christmas cards are sent. All that remains to be done are the baking, a few odds and ends for people and of course, all that wrapping.

Every year after Christmas, I go out and scoop up my cards for the next year as well as all my wrapping paper, gift bags, tags, bows, etc. As a result, I have enough wrapping paper in my basement for the next 20 years. Except I really don't like to wrap. My seams tend to be crooked, I use too much wrapping paper and have overstuffed ends, and I don't always pull the wrapping paper taut enough, so it looks baggy. The solution, of course, is gift bags, but not everything can go in a bag. So I struggle with this odious task every year, often putting it off until the last minute.

Except this year, I decided to jump on top of it early and do it a little at a time. I just spent hours cutting, taping and tagging gifts. I feel accomplished but tired. And I haven't even started Boo's gifts. Maybe I'll leave most of them unwrapped. Still, he loves the wrapping paper. Got to make the boy happy.

On an unrelated note, I won NaNoWriMo on Thanksgiving day. Was a good feeling. I'm considering cleaning up my manuscript and shopping it around. Because, you know, I still don't have a job, and how cool would it be to sell a book?

Where is my muse?

Since I have some time off, I've been thinking I ought to write, if not a book then at least some short stories. But honestly, I don't know what to write about. I've been lucky enough to live a pretty ordinary life. I could write about being a mom, but it's been done to death. I could write about my struggles with anxiety and depression, but then we get into how much do I want to reveal. Or I could clean up my NaNoWriMo book from a few years back and try to sell it. I fear, though, that it's inherently a piece of crap. So I'm kind of stuck waiting for my muse.

Bad TV writing

As a wordsmithy kind of gal who really hates cliches (like poison), I loved this post from the Chicago Tribune about bad TV dialogue. When I read it, I threw up a little in my mouth.

Banished words of 2007

Originally posted on Dave Copeland. Rock on brother, and check out the list.

I'm done! I WON!

Finished NaNoWriMo today. I'd like to thank the Academy...er, Jody et al and the awesome NaNoWriMo Blog, which helped keep me going. I finally wrote a book!

In NaNoWriMo land

Sorry I've been a bit MIA -- I'm working on a case of carpal tunnel syndrome by trying to crank out a freaking book in a month. Today, I passed the halfway point. I am thrilled -- I have always wanted to write a book. It may be a complete piece of shit once it's done, but it will be DONE and MINE. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

More later.

A new year, yet another resolution.

I'm a writer with a blog who never posts in it.

I was shitty at keeping diaries as a kid. What makes me think things are gonna change because the format is digital rather than written in a locked book under my bed?

I have blog posts saved in my head all the time. I love reading others' blogs. So I've decided that this blog will become more readable in 2005.

So where do I begin? Last night, M and I went to see my parentals to do Christmas gifts. Yes, Christmas gifts. My little brother and his wife just bought a house, and they've been up to their assholes cleaning and recarpeting and packing, etc., so this was the first chance we got to have gifts as a family. Mom bought us all pizzas from Pizzeria Regina and made calzone. After the eatfest that December 2004 has been, I feel guilty even looking at food. I went to Weight Watchers December 30, and from December 7 to then I gained 5.6 pounds. I feel like a pig. Part of it was being the end of the day, part of it was the lined jeans I was wearing -- but it also was a direct result of my holiday gluttony. Did I forget the rules? That I can't just eat what I want and expect the zipper of my jeans to purr upwards? What IS it with me and sugar? Then again, it was the holidays, and I should just go easy on myself. Except my appetite is still huge. I would just love to have a decent relationship with food. But I don't think a woman alive has it.

Anywhoo, after gifts and pizza and patting my brother's golden retriever (even though I shouldn't have -- she's a walking allergen) , we went home and lit a fire. I don't know what it is about lighting my fireplace, but it always makes me fall asleep. Then I panic b/c I basically am falling asleep on a fire in my house. My house is my baby. If someone asks me what I did over the weekend, my usual answer is, "Stayed home. Cleaned. Did laundry." Something about taking care of our home just soothes the shit out of me. Especially on a snowy, cold, raw day, where I can just stay home in my jammies.

We woke up five minutes to midnight. I barely kept my eyes open to watch the ball drop. Happy new year, kiss kiss. Then M crawled up the stairs to bed. I stayed up to straighten up a bit after getting a bit of a second wind, ran the dishwasher, etc. This morning we had the champagne I bought as mimosas, and very expensive (and so not worth it) strawberries, as well as doughnuts. Another guilt food.

So, Christine, how's work going? It's going. I've been there three months now. After three years at my old place, I still feel out of sorts. It's a new feeling, to not be the person in the office everyone asks everything of. To not feel like the ground is totally stable beneath my feet. To really not know anyone and have to build new relationships, workwise or other, from scratch. But it's coming along. I'm well into the production cycle groove. Deadlines are my bread and butter, man. I've kept in touch with a lot of people at the old joint, especially the girl who sat next to me, but not the boss. I have a case of the guilts over that last one because we were so close, but I don't think it was a healthy relationship, and I felt I needed to end it. She sent me a birthday card, which I thanked her for tersely in an email. I'm hoping she gets the hint, but getting the hint is not her strong suit.

So, the bottom line: look for more posts in '05. But not this long. My fingers will bleed.

Brain Droppings
Ahh, the title of an off-color book by one of my heroes, George Carlin. (Is anything that man does not off-color?)

Y'know, you anticipate summer all year long. Then it's here and it flies by. It always reminds me of a poem by another one of my heroes, the late great Shel Silverstein:

Here comes summer,
Here comes summer,
Chirping robin, budding rose.
Here comes summer,
Here comes summer,
Gentle showers, summer clothes.
Here comes summer
Here comes summer —
Whoosh — shiver — there it goes.

Fall is really my favorite time of the year. I love fall clothes, fall colors, apple picking, Halloween, crisp air, burning leaves, the show of the New England foliage. There's just something about it that appeals to me. And no one does fall like we do here in these six states in the corner of the country.

Had breakfast with M with an old, old friend this morning. She told me about all the people in HS I couldn't have cared less about that she has stayed in touch with. But we had a great time. I miss having girlfriends.

M ordered me the Lucinda Bassett program, "Attacking Anxiety." Lucinda is yet another one of my heroes. She overcame severe, debilitating panic attacks; agorophobia; and depression to help others, and has developed a program with therapists that helps change the way you think. As an anxiety and depression sufferer since I was eight years old, but with an optimistic, hopeful heart, I really am looking forward to starting the four-month program. I've lost 10 pounds on WW and am trying to lose 15 more; why not work on the inside of me as well? I'll keep you posted.

Listening to Sting's new CD (which kicks ass, by the way; when I've listened to it a few more times, I'll be sure to write a review on Epinions) must have made me poetic. What I discovered today has stirred the muse:

Digging in the Dirt

Why must I dig in the dirt of the past
When it's so clean and nice where I am?
Is it because I like pain
Or because it moves me
To write, to create,
Or do I feel done wrong
By an ancient wrong?
Who did I think I was impressing or enobling
By snooping and spying on what's not mine anymore
When I have another, much better?
Why does the past tug so, when the present and future
Shine bright at my door?
I don't know, but I'm not going on
Google anymore.

One more:

On the outside
My chest moves up and down
And my eyes blink in rote
But what's behind them?
Is it hatred for you?
Is it secret love?
Is it what I had for breakfast
Or will eat tonight?
Am I a million miles from here
In my head
While my body is here
Or am I right here all along?

Here's another:
Why are you still here
Didn't I tell you to leave?
Why do you still stay
When I've ordered you gone
So many years ago
We touched in the darkness
We were so close, so close to what
And you promised me everything
Only to fade into nothing
And I've moved on
And I'm happy
But why are you still here?

A Poem for a Cold January Tuesday
In the darkness of the morning
The cold fingers of trees stretch against the blue-black
As my head wakes from nothing
And I can breathe, I can breathe
I wish so for flowers and warmth
For short sleeves and open windows
For walks in the sunshine
But I can breathe, I can breathe

Here's a poem I wrote years ago:

My body is here
But my mind's in a sleep
And the frost on my heart
Is 12 inches deep

My feet filled with needles
Every step that I take
I crawl in my cave
And watch my hands shake

I know I'm not cold
No feeling, just tremor
I wish there was something
To say that was clever

To make my head clear
And my suffering less deep
But all that I want now
Is to just go to sleep.

I wrote that when I was suffering a bout of depression, which befalls me from time to time. They say it's hard to create when you're happy; I think it's true. I haven't done any creative writing in a long time. I need to start again. Of course, writing something like this doesn't make anyone go "oooh":

I drove to work today
Smiling all the time
I waved at the other drives
That have a smile like mine.

I floated to my office
Took off my hat and coat
I skipped to my computer
Nothing can get my goat.

I waved at those I work with
They all waved back at me.
My life is great, no doubt about it
And now I have to pee.