Remember back in early summer when I stopped writing Dustpan Alley and shut Facebook off for four months? I have some really mixed feelings about social media. I still haven’t resurrected Twitter in my life because it makes me panic. I mean to do it, eventually, because I am supposed to make use of social media to become a successful author.
I think my biggest problem with social media is that it gives me a lot more places to cut myself open when I’m in a downward spiral which then makes me excessively vulnerable to the dreaded radio silence that is inevitable when you say frightening things publicly.
It was really good for me to take a break. I adjusted to my new medications and got in touch with myself and let myself fall apart out of the public view. It was a healthy choice to make and I was able to come back and handle myself better second time around. Fresh chapter and all that.
Facebook hasn’t been at all stressful to me since my return. I have enjoyed it’s good aspects and ignored the bad. I love it because it’s a great place to put random thoughts down with a minimum of fuss. Writing a blog post requires that I format, find a picture, and do more than inform everyone that I have a small penis.
I would like to invite any of my readers to look me up on Facebook if they want to. I figure that any of you who read my blog regularly already have a pretty clear idea of what you’d be letting yourself into. Besides, you can always hide me if you get tired of all the liberal politics, religious mocking, and penis talk.
Some beautiful things about facebook:
- You can block people from seeing all your content (though they may know you have done so)
- You can hide people you’re not interested in, like anyone who gets their Jesus-love on 20 times a day.
- You can always unfriend people if they become obnoxious. I’ve only done this once. I am willing to do it again if need be.
What I’ve come to really love about facebook is that I can chat casually and keep up with people who don’t have blogs or make phone calls. I love seeing what’s on other people’s minds.
So go ahead and look me up if you like. I can promise you this:
I will ridicule almost everyone’s religious dogma.
I will use the word penis at least twice a month.
I will very vocally support liberal ( SOME WOULD SAY SOCIALIST) ideas and thoughts.
I will swear like a bastard.
I will make a lot of useless and potentially irritating pronouncements.
I will shout about gay rights.
I will constantly update on the progress of the novel and the weather.
I am prolific.
I will never friend children. I accidentally friended one teen and every time I’m inappropriate I shiver at the damage I may be doing her. She’s cool and sweet so I don’t unfriend her. Facebook is my grown-up zone.
I may at any time shut down from facebook for a break making you think I’ve unfriended you, which, unless you pick political fights with me, I almost certainly haven’t.
Facebook is just one long stream of “posts” and can’t be sorted by date or month (that I know of) so I have taken to collecting thoughts I’ve had that amuse me or interest me that I’d like to remember and not have to scroll back tediously for 20 hours to find. I’ve collected a long list of my faves from the last month. If we’re already connected in Facebook this will be a great big bore-fest. Just ignore.
It may be a great big bore-fest to others as well. If so, just move right along…
(I’m having the damnedest time trying to get WordPress to keep the spaces between each of these bits, so I’m going to italicize every other once so they don’t visually all run into each other. This is the only thing that I hate about my WP template. Must have Angela work on it!! Poor Angela…)
Huge crush on Ricky Gervais’ teeth.
I’m pleased that I’m not going to be made into a terrine.
I had to explain to Max that calling Aretha “disco” in some circles could get him lynched. His real musical education commences.
Just remembered the carolers last night at the local pub! I could barely concentrate on my friend’s conversation because the whole time I was panicking that they were going to stop at our table- which they would have if my friend hadn’t politely asked them to move along. I have a TERROR of carolers!!!!!
Whatever happened to Fabio?
Uh oh, someone let me out of my box again.
The only reason I got dressed today is because I have to go to Winco later and I REFUSE to be one of the many MAC fashion setters who shop in their sleepwear.
“The chicken will make its own liquid…” Still happily vegetarian after almost 41 years.
Apparently I can have free porn if I want. My spam tells me so. I’m a very lucky girl, apparently.
I’ve been making rice for 20 years and all of a sudden I can’t remember the proper ratio of water to rice? Hello middle age!! (I looked it up, so no worries)
Every time I let impatience and a lack of faith in others take over I am immediately given a lesson in humility. Self improvement is a daily endeavor.
The trashcan outside is reeking from mouse #8, caught right AFTER the trash was picked up last week. Death is so raunchy and nasty when it really gets under way. Luckily tomorrow is trash day. It amazes me how much foulness can be created with one little tiny dead mouse.
Tonight’s Kung Fu workout: almost killed me and I LOVED IT!! Beating on 100 pound bags on the floor, I did REAL push ups, triangle (haven’t done that in forever because of stupid feet), wall kicks (the brutal slow kind you hold), shadow boxing, plank- I don’t know how I’ve come to love these so much but dammit- I’m in an awesome mood now!
Fashion shocker: no matter how much you love sleeveless fur vests: they are NOT chic. Not even if they’re fake fur. In fact, fur is not chic unless you killed the beasties yourself and ate the meat too.
Saw plastic oven-“safe” bags for cooking your turkey in at the market. Please, please: if you love your family, your children, and/or the planet and your health: don’t EVER cook your food in plastic bags. If you have to be lazy and you have to use disposable you are better off using aluminum. That’s saying A LOT.
Vonnegut will sit on my shoulder now with his prescription for good writing. I am back into the thick of the book. Friend Angela has admonished me to stop thinking so hard and Vonnegut instructs me to give all the information I can at the earliest point to my readers so they can finish the story in case of a nuclear blast. I have great advisers!
Next time when Max wants to make a gingerbread house I intend to talk him into elaborately decorating flat cookies.
As a writer there is no greater compliment than to have anything I write fill a need, express something a person couldn’t express themselves, instruct, be useful, bring laughter, or even unleash pent up anger. To have an impact is everything.
It was good while it was good. Down to earth again with a bit of a bang. The kid is in a MOOD and it’s time to do damage control, resurrect egos, redirect energy, and basically be the fixer of all things.
If I didn’t know better, I’d have to conclude that someone out there knows I have a very small penis.
Ultra pasteurized milk is super creepy. I only bought it in an emergency, not noticing that it was ultra-zapped. The tip off is that I bought it WEEKS ago and it hasn’t gone bad yet. If there’s nothing bacteria wants from my milk then it’s doubtful there’s anything my body wants from it either. It’s actual expiration date is Jan. 30 11. I bought it in early December.
Tonight’s writing snip: “Girls like me don’t care if men want to walk up long pitted dark roads under a pitch sky with every inch of property guarded by ruffians with more bullets than teeth.”
Was going to bicycle out to run errands but had a flat. Thought I’d take the scooter, but it wouldn’t start. I think the universe is trying to tell me something.
Say goodbye to impecunious 2010! Say hello to impecunious 2011! Wait, no… Here’s to a much better year of good friends, good times, less bankruptcy, less foreclosure, and a little pin money for fun. Or maybe a huge fortune. That would be nice too.
One of the best things that happened today is that my mom told me she absolutely believes that I will get my novel published and that it will succeed. I can’t share why that is particularly poignant for me but what an awesome way to end the year, with a parent’s confidence.
Apparently still Victorian after all these years.
Dear Dickens: I have given you short shrift. Please accept my apologies.
AMY + ARTHUR CLENNAM FOREVER!!! (Do all Dickens stories end with some happiness or is this an anomaly? Note to self: if Dickens can dispose of his villain by making a house fall down on him, the possibilities are limitless for mine!)
I figured out why stories about poverty and debter’s prison don’t depress me right now: I’m already livin’ the dream! Have strange renewed hope that we will somehow manage to keep the house. It’s a long shot. But so is everything in my life. Must not give up.
Okay, so at exactly 10pm I need someone to clock me in the head with just exactly enough force to knock me out until 5am when I will rise refreshed and ready to write. Got it? (how insomniac’s pray for sleep to come to them when they want it)
Oh my god! No wonder I didn’t get good sleep- I just remembered that in my nightmare I had grown myself enough chin and neck hairs to constitute a modest beard which had to be SHAVED!!
Can anyone recommend a good sub-machine gun? Something that isn’t gimmicky or needs super special bullets or parts- something that could still be used in a post oil world?
Perhaps what I really need is an assault rifle and not an SMG. So hard to choose the right weapon. It would be for guarding transport. Ideas? Opinions?
Two things: 1. I keenly suspect that chewing granola every day could square the most feminine jaw and 2. I remind myself of a bulldog. Interestingly, it occurs to me that #1 could make #2 more obvious.
Some days there’s nothing more to say than “Dammit! Tomorrow may burn to the ground but right now is about as fucking stellar as it gets. Thank you all.” That’s what I just said. See how I put the swear words inside quotations so it doesn’t seem as though I was saying them myself? Even though I was.
Would it be worse to be called “Pussy-fluff” or “Sugar-Booger” by your sweetheart? (Nicholas Nickleby versus Jimmy Neutron)
I did not get the memo that it’s BIG hair day at Winco. I’m practically ashamed of my regular-height hair!
I just read that the shooting of the congresswoman in Tucson isn’t being considered an act of terrorism. I’ll bet Giffords thinks it was an act of a terrorism to be shot in the head. 6 people were killed. How is that NOT an act of terrorism? Especially since it seems likely that it was politically motivated. I think America needs to stop pretending we don’t breed terrorists.
Looking up “sirens” and seeing an ancient stone statue of a winged woman clutching her hair with one hand and her right breast with the other with some ferocity is fairly disconcerting. I guess it’s pretty emotional luring men to their deaths on the rocks.
“sugar and pith” Every time I read those words again I want to inhale them. Visceral and pungent at the same time. A sum of parts. A sum of life. Fresh version of yin and yang. Everything in a single kiss. With snow falling. Fiction is where the truth gets dressed every day.
I am besotted with both Cricket and Grey. I just put them through the ringer in yesterday’s chapter. If they knew it was me pulling all their strings and making very bad things happen they’d totally kick my ass. This is why omniscient powers are always ALWAYS invisible to their subjects.
When I’m a famous published author I promise not to ever use the word “testimonials” in reference to reviews or comments of praise. It sounds like the kind of thing quack traveling doctors used to say in their circus freak performances of magical cures for stump legs and lady beards.
I was blind, but now I see that I had my eyes shut.
Learning all about making one’s own ammunition. By the time I’m done writing this book I’ll know more about guns than I ever wanted to know in my life.
Favorite line of the morning: “When your jock strap is pulled up to your chin you’re liable to find fault with everyone.”
I just read that the 2012 Olympics are going to be held in Glasgow. This is the first time I’ve ever thought I might want to attend the Olympics. But really I want to go to Glasgow and skip the Olympics. Glasgow is wonderful.
Listen up: if creaky, bear-sized, weak-ankled, funky hipped Angelina can do a spinning outside crescent kick, that means there’s NOTHING you all can’t do too.
Bulky, tattooed, blond bull.
Wait! Grey doesn’t have any characteristic gestures or personality devices- what the hell kind of author am I? I just gave a smuggler more distinctive traits than my own hero? I’m so fired.
It’s disconcerting to realize that all my thoughts in the last five minutes have come to me in a bad fake Jamaican accent. Jesus. Does the voice in my head need it’s own dialect coach?
There could be any number of moments in one’s life when it is useful to know that 51 and 57 are both divisible by three. This is something every spy and smart person should know.
Blithesome is as blithesome does. I am surely having a blithesome Saturday. May I wish upon all your greatly and inadequately underestimated selves a most blithesome blog? (See, I can write spam plenty good)
Abattoir is such a floral word for a blood bath.
I really dislike the word “graced” as in “she graced the gathering with her august personality…(retch!)”. I dislike “gracious” also. As in “the gracious home of the evil magnate awed us all…”
I’m immensely impressed with my ability to create mass chaos out of minuscule chaos. No need to covet my gifts, they come with a price not even Clark Kent would be willing to pay.
It is a beautiful thing when a lesbian can acknowledge her wife on national television and not be ruined, shocked, beat up, or otherwise harassed. It gives me so much happiness to be alive at such a time.
What if Jesus was clean-shaven? Men were shaving long before he was born. Does the bible mention that he’s bearded? Please enlighten me.
I have identified true evil: the query letter. I will cut you with my sword of power! I will nail you with my cunning! I will flay you with my… actually, I’m feeling pretty flayed myself.
Hello Thursday. I know you want to kick my ass but may I remind you that I can now do the spinning outside crescent kick? Not only that, you should be very very careful not to cut yourself on my attitude.
I can’t copy and paste to any good effect on this template. I have now reached big frustration point and officially abandon any attempts to make the above comments actually readable.