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Oh, hi, September.

3 Sep

Back in the day, the dawning of September elicited a pervasive, vomitous feeling in the pit of my stomach, usually accompanied by visions of sitting in Math classes that seemed endless in their confusion and chalkboard hieroglyphics and obsessing over where/who I would sit with during lunch.

Not anymore, ya’ll!

First of all, school has been long over for me, and even though I’ve been contemplating taking a few courses (more on that below), those days are over. I’ll leave the vomitous feeling to the kiddies.

Not anymore...

Not anymore…

Sorry, kiddies. Anyway, the dawning of this September brought with it a reminder to set some proper goals for myself. I have to say that although January starts the year, there’s something about the month of September and new beginnings. Perhaps because summer is ending and autumn will soon come; perhaps because, yes, when we were all back in school, September did mean new beginnings: new grades, new teachers, new avenues of learning and humiliation (Math). Whatever the reason, I usually look toward the horizon when September begins (sometimes literally), deliberating over the new goals and plans to set for myself. Here are a few:

Where I Lay my Head. Having moved back home 8 years ago, I’ve decided to try and get my own place once again. What will impact my decision is 1) what I can afford and 2) whether I’ll stay local, or, after years and years of craving and wanting it, move to California. We’ll see. It all depends on things like employment, cost of living, etc. But by and large, Cali waits for me. (In case you’re wondering, yes, the idea of possibly moving to a state I’ve eternally longed for is beyond exciting. Beyond.)

But Before I Go…I need to clean my room here, the room I inhabit now, the room in which I presently lay my head. Because it is a travesty in there. It’s sad and scary and I think I may have some hoarding tendencies. I mean, there aren’t any dead cats or squirrels hidden somewhere, but I don’t think it’s normal to own that many clothes. So a definite goal, one that I’m definitely executing soon, is to clean the batcave.

The J-O-B. A bit related to Goal #1, but whether or not I move to CA, I need a new job. For my sanity, well-being, wallet, and the general safety of certain people I work with. It.is.imperative.

Stop Fretting Over This Hair. Are you all familiar with natural hair? If not, please visit the Google, and if you like, visit the blog I started last year about my transition to natural hair. I’ll warn you that it has about three entries and I have no idea when I’ll update it. Nevertheless, I’m very much in love with my now very natural hair. It’s thick and curly.

in all its glory...

in all its glory…

And really, really, really thick and curly. A blessing and a curse, in other words. It’s so intense that I’m constantly on YouTube looking up videos on what next to do with it. It’s become insanely a bit out of control. So my goal is to be balanced. To stop being obsessed. To stop trying to make it look like something it’s not. To stop forcing new styles on my scalp every day. To just let it be. Amen and good night.

 

Relax a Little, Won’t You? I shouldn’t have to wait until the last two weeks of August to relax, should I? No. Things like massages and grabbing a weekend to visit a museum and finding a respite won’t be relegated to the end of summer anymore. I need to breathe easy year-round.

Edumacation. As mentioned above, I’d like to take a few classes. Improving job skills, learning something I know nothing about, etc. Ideally, to quote my Pops, I need to learn something practical. Perhaps something I can use to go into a new line of work.

So, a few of my goals as we welcome September. Got anything planned?

peanuts1

Project: Bridesmaid

13 Aug

bridesmaids

Two months until we ladies in the bridal party are the pink (well, teal) to my lovely cuzzo’s white. If you’re wondering whether I’m panicking, excited, mostly starving myself, happy, and readying my party dances, yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes.

Onwards.

Aurora Borealis.

4 Aug

20130804-164014.jpg

Bucket List, Aurora Borealis. Very much planning on seeing them in person one day.

Image

Paris Is Always a Good Idea.

2 Aug

Paris Is Always a Good Idea.

Yes, it always is, Audrey.

meet me at the crossroads of ordinary and extraordinary.

2 Aug

What do you write about?

It’s the standard question I get when people find out I’m a writer. I typically respond that I write about “relationships,” which is largely true. My fascination with how people truly relate to one another–mothers and fathers, husbands and wives, siblings, friends–and the psychology of it all has only grown with time and understanding. So, yeah, that’s me in the corner, watching, listening, analyzing. (Am I a voyeur? Absolutely. People, strangers, are infinitely inspiring and intriguing. And really, once we step outside our homes, everything you and I do is subject to observation. Sorry if you wanted that loud argument with your wife in the middle of a public aisle in the grocery store to be private.) In fact, before I went with the Plan A of majoring in English in college, I actually wanted to be a Psychology major, with the hope of someday becoming a therapist. Yes. It’s true. I even wanted to start my own practice, the ultimate chance to fulfill my people fascination with the belief that I could also help people sort out their lives. Anyway, when I told my beloved Dad heard that, he nearly fell out of his chair and forbade it immediately. Perhaps he had visions of me psychoanalyzing he and my mother’s disciplining methods? (“How do you really feel about grounding me?”)

I digress. But you’re used to that, aren’t you? Re-reading some of my older work this past week, I realized that the same theme revealed itself over and over again: ordinary people meeting with extraordinary events. It’s a bit cliched, but I was writing stories about run-of-the-mill people reacting to hardly run-of-the-mill situations. Even a few doses of whimsy here and there. Back then, I prided myself on coming up with ideas and plots that I knew were solely from the trenches of my imagination. And they were always stories that I, from the vantagepoint of just a reader, enjoyed reading.

What’s changed with my newer work, you ask, because you know that’s where I’m going? Several years ago, I felt that my writing needed to become “real”. Relatable. I wanted my readers to think while reading, “I get this. I’ve experienced this.” However, in comparing the old with the new, I noticed a few things. I’ve stripped the extraordinary. The new ones are…they just are. But I write fiction, folks! Yes, I write about relationships. Yes, I include psychobabble here and there. But I also write fiction. And fiction may be based in reality, experiences, relationships, and psychology, but at its core, it’s “something invented by the imagination or feigned.”   I want to go back to that! So it’s time to stop sacrificing the shiniest, giddiest parts of my imagination for relatibility. Instead, I’m going to experiment with blending the two. Truthfully, I’ve already started. I’ve restarted some of my older, unfinished works, which number in the hundreds, and we’re in the process of serious blending. So…

What do you write about?

The ordinary and the extraordinary.

And in the end:

Anastasia Krupnik, I love you.

20 May

She was fiercely intelligent, hilarious, insecure, brave. She was my age. She wanted to answer the telephone by saying, “for whom does this bell toll?” (Awesome or what?) She was obsessed with psychology and Sigmund Freud. She was everything to me.

I discovered Anastasia Krupnik in the books of Lois Lowry, one of my favorite young adult authors growing up, but I truly believed that she could be found on her surburban street somewhere, hanging out with her brainiac parents and her annoying little brother, Sam. She was so real to me. This morning, as I read a feature about the recent boon in young adult novels, I broke out into a silly grin when I turned the page and saw an interview with with Ms. Lowry herself, in which she discussed how she loved writing the Anastasia books. (The series has since ended, to my chagrin. Apparently, her publisher felt that the series was “outdated,” being that Mr. Krupnik, at one point, used a typewriter. What-ever.)

I decided this morning that I want to revisit the world of Anastasia. (A few years ago, I ignored the curious looks of a few kids who watched as I nonchalantly sauntered over to the young adult section of the library and commenced with squealing as I looked through those old books.) The article in the paper reminded me of the joy those books brought me, and as I remain a sucker for nostalgia, I resolve to go back in time.

Can’t wait!

The Anastasia Krupnik Series

Anastasia Krupnik

Anastasia Again!

Anastasia At Your Service

Anastasia, Ask Your Analyst (my personal favorite)

Anastasia On Her Own

Anastasia’s Chosen Career

Anastasia At this Addressen the special “he” wants to meet her.

My Face is Burning. And other Hot Topics.

3 Mar

First, let’s get the gratitude out of the way.

If I did not regularly get a facial waxing (yes, I said facial; I am Teen Wolf’s older sister, 30-something Wolfette, and as a result, I must tame the Fu Manchu/full beard that erupts on my face every so often), I would look like Madame Frida Kahlo’s invention to the left. I am very thankful to the artistes that re-fashion the jungle on my face into nice eyebrows and smooth, smooth skin.

That said, this mess hurts. I got a fresh waxing a few hours ago. Yikes. I’ve been waxing since my late teens, so it’s not my first time at the rodeo, BUT IT HURTS. And it’s so violent. Is there a way to lovingly and calmly rip hair off someone’s face? Somebody, please find a way.

In other news, I plan on making a trip to the museum this weekend. It’s only Thurstinkday, but I’m already making plans! (My love of all things museum has been discussed at length…)Me and a pal will be heading to the National Portrait Gallery on Saturday. Can’t.wait. A report will be provided on Monday, of course.

In other, other news, I’m apparently trying to usher in the weekend against its will. It’s not Friday, Kitten Heel Marvel. It’s not Friday. (Long sigh).

Onwards…

BJ & FE SCOTT

...LIVING THE BEST LIFE EVER!

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