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33.

21 Oct

Age is an issue of mind over matter.  If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.  ~Mark Twain

And I hardly mind. I’ve always enjoyed getting older.

Do not regret growing older.  It is a privilege denied to many.  ~Author Unknown

Truer words have never been spoken. No premature gray hairs will change the pure privilege to still be here, and I’ve been graying since 14, so it’s really all good.

Thirty-five is when you finally get your head together and your body starts falling apart.  ~Caryn Leschen

Two years to go! Woo hoo!

The key to successful aging is to pay as little attention to it as possible.  ~Judith Regan

Yes, but I do enjoy reminding Mother that that particular day was, by far, the best day of her natural life. I won’t comment on whether she agrees with me.

At 20 years of age the will reigns; at 30 the wit; at 40 the judgment.  ~Benjamin Franklin, Poor Richard’s Almanac

Still in the decade of wit. To wit, thank you.

Everything slows down with age, except the time it takes cake and ice cream to reach your hips.  ~Attributed to John Wagner

I wasn’t blessed with hips, so I’ll keep indulging. (Shut up, belly. No one solicited your opinion.)

There are years that ask questions and years that answer.  ~Zora Neale Hurston

These are the answer years. Couldn’t say that at 25.

Anyone who stops learning is old, whether at twenty or eighty.  ~Henry Ford

And I dare anyone to tell me when they stopped learning.

Lastly…

A man is not old until regrets take the place of dreams.  ~John Barrymore

Let’s continue dreaming, shall we?

insert page number.

29 Jul

Most writers have weird rituals and habits. Some won’t discuss a story, not even a little bit, until it’s finished. Some do the exact opposite. Mark Twain apparently wrote lying down. Vladimir Nabokov wrote his stories on 3×5 index cards, clipped them, and stored them in slim boxes. My true love, Mr. Billy Collins, only writes with a fine tip, Black Sharpie pen. Eons ago, I had a beloved, treasured Scripto pen that I called Blackie, which I used to write my stories with (when I used to write in longhand). And, yes, I cried when the ink ran out of Blackie. Anyway, most, if not all, writers have a thing they do.

What thing do I do? When I’m into a story, when I’m falling in love with it, thinking about it, weaving the tale and working on my character studies…I insert page numbers.

Prior to inserting page numbers, the story is a blank canvas to me, a rough piece of clay that I’m working with. But then comes this moment, this feeling, when I know it’s time to make it official. Weird, indescribable, dizzying, my ritual. It means that I’m ready for the progression, to see it through, to work with it until the final page.

That’s happening now with a story that I’m working on. I just inserted page numbers minutes ago…

Onwards! Onwards!

Oh, before I leave, in honor of that thing we all do:

And So it Begins.

8 Mar

They’ve unleashed Pandora’s box.

I will be on this website like crazy.

Like.crazy.

Needless to say, I’m trying to figure out how to get to London on April 29…

I’ll be the one with the sign that says: BEST REASON TO MISS WORK EVER.

‘Cheerio, for now.

The Dream is Still Alive. It’s Alive, I Tell You.

22 Jul

Sigh.

Remember these guys?

Well, Dream 1 came true–they reunited and I returned to the sweet age of 11/12.

And now, NOW, another dream manifests itself.

I’m seeing them in concert.

I’m seeing NEW KIDS ON THE BLOCK in concert! Ack!

Not many understand the sheer, lunatic joy of it all. They don’t get why my voice changes from normal to screechy when I refer to them in conversation. They don’t comprehend why my friend and I (who are attending the concert together) are losing it now, months before we travel to the arena and proceed to lose our minds in public and maybe on camera. I explain it this way: every girl has a boyband love. There’s a boy band for every generation, right from Frankie Limon in the 50s to those Jonas Boys. And every girl had their beloved boy band. These guys were mine. It’s very nostalgic and cool. It’s the reality of what we wanted all those years ago when we begged to see them in “real life” and had to accept the limitations of television and video. The adolescent adoration can now be realized, all in real time. Yikes. So excited. See the countdown clock above their heads. The clock is on.

Sigh, again.

BJ & FE SCOTT

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