I Wish I Had an Evil Twin

Tuesday was a day of very weird events that led me to believe maybe I have an evil twin who is causing a fair amount of mischief. The following things happened:

1. I got a strange call at 8:30 a.m. from Diana at the CT Department of Environmental Protection Boating Division, and she left a message insisting I had called her to ask about boating licenses (this is particularly funny, because my friend Emily and I joke regularly about going on a yachting double date, complete with couples boating outfits, should I ever meet someone that sticks around for more than 5 minutes).

2. I got a bunch of catalogues for wedding registries in the mail (does someone know something I don't?).

3. I had an "epiphany moment" that produced a good idea for a section in one of my novels, and when I went to work on it, I discovered I'd written the very section I had been imagining (but no more than a month ago, since it was based on something that happened to me no longer ago than that).

Oddly enough, last weekend (before any of this happened) I had a dream I was living in Paris in a tiny apartment and was renting out part of it to a pair of middle-aged male twins (one was evil/terrorist/serial killer/etc., who wore a lot of denim shirts with jeans, incidentally ... what's more evil than that?) . There were more details to that. However, I definitely wish I had an evil twin, and that that evil twin did more interesting things to spice up my life than just signing up for wedding registries, planning boating trips in CT and writing decent sections of my books.

furious motivation

I labeled this with the "procrastination" tag, but I'm not even sure what I'm procrastinating (or more accurately which THING I'm procrastinating). Yes, I've done some work in the past couple weeks to make headway on things that could publish, but no I have nothing concrete that I'm comfortable with to show for my efforts. I have so many simultaneous writing projects going at this point, many of which are completely on my own internal deadlines, because no one has actually "commissioned" (is that what you call it in 2011?) me to do them. However, I'd really like to finish something on my personal project list, and I'm pulling for myself this week. Maybe I'll be able to post a snippet if I can actually get off my ass ... or stay on my ass, as the case may be.

I need to get back to the writing opus-related proliferation of my past.

here comes the rain

It is weeks like this when I wish I had my gym membership back. I finally am back into the feeling that I can run every day (probably as of about yesterday), and here it is, seven days straight of a pouring-down rain forecast. And, it's not just bogus, since it is actually pouring down rain right now. I'm no wimp when it comes to raininess, and I'm perfectly happy to run in it, but when it's raining so hard it's like running underwater in your bath tub, that's probably taking it too far.

Plus, when you can't afford a gym membership, you certainly can't afford running rain gear (and why would it be worth it, since the blazing hot summer is coming right around the corner)?

Let's hope this week turns out more productive in other areas, even if I'm semi home-bound.

Romance, Jesse Ventura Style

So, as slightly alluded to I think in recent writings, I'm going through a little waiting game right now in the romance/love interest area. And thankfully, I can discuss it a little bit because I've kind of discovered I can't mess this one up by voicing anything about it out loud (not that my superstitions previously about love life disclosure have been right either). Because I'm involved in a momentarily star-crossed (but I trust not forever hopelessly star-crossed, because it just doesn't feel like it) situation, I today expressed to the co-entangled, writerly that I am, that at the very least all this waiting and subsequent love lettering could produce a nice both-ways romantic letter-based opus a la Sartre/de Beauvoir. However, it would decidedly be modernized with plenty of Jesse Ventura and Steve Guttenberg references and a fair number of bad specially-effected explosions.

That's about it for now. It wouldn't be my life story if there weren't a fair amount of existential suffering, so this is just how I roll.

Limbo

That title pretty much describes the very unrequited "on-the-brink" feeling I've been experiencing the past month or so. I'm trying to see this test of patience as just something I needed to help me appreciate everything when it hits (patience is not my strong suit, I will admit), but it's hard not to be disappointed that things seem to be at a standstill. I think I understand the true meaning of the term "dying in the friendship of God but not being allowed to enter heaven," even though I in no way believe in that crap (not being Catholic or particularly religious). On a philosophical level, I think the past decade of my life has probably been a little bit limbo-riffic though -- lots of not-quite failures in love, life and career and seemingly no real significant forward movement in any one area (though I know if I look at it much more objectively, this description of my life is hardly true).

This "Dear Diary" moment was brought to you by the grave displeasure of waiting.

Busy and Important

I'm noticing again that I'm encountering people again who are very "busy and important" about the way they organize their time with me. I start to feel like I'm being selfish when I demand a certain level of attention and care be paid to me by friends and others that engage in relationships with me ... but then I realize that's not at all too much to expect, and I start to try to find ways to make sure others know my demands. Unfortunately, there's really no easy way; grabbing the attention of the "busy and important" can be an uphill, losing battle.

I'm fortunate enough to have more than one person I can count on in my life to NEVER be too busy for me (and I realize that I reciprocate this action when people who deserve it are involved). I can count on one hand the people that will make time for me if I need them (and that do make time for me WHENEVER I need them). And these 3 or 4 are quite enough, thank you very much. Some people like to collect friends like they are trading cards or vinyl (and brag about how many friends they have). Honestly, if you are one of these people, I know, being a person who very much emotionally engages in my own life and truly cares about the people I most trust and love that you can't possibly have deep relationships with all these "friends." And I also know there's a distinct difference between "friends" and "acquaintances." I'm not willing to trade close friends for non-close ones (also frequently known, especially in this city, as "drinking buddies").

A lovely phone call from one of my very best friends of my life whom I have known for over 15 years now and who has been there in a heartbeat for me during some horrible times (and when I didn't even ask her to be there) reminded me what real friends are and really helped me categorize some of my more recent "acquisitions" (and also realize what's wrong with some of the ones that are making me unhappy at the moment).

The end message is pretty simple: Make some time for me, and you'll be worthy of me making some time for you ... and probably then some.

Monday

This is possibly the worst/most boring title for a blog post ever. But I've been a little lacking in things to say lately. I did a little work on a few of my books this past weekend, but I feel like it was a pretty lackluster effort. And now, it's Monday, and here I am with a boring update very befitting of Monday. You're welcome?