mood: oh...whatever...
Yes, my writing has been rather intermittently uploaded of late. I have been writing but only in snippets. You'll have to take my word that they are somewhat brilliant snippets ;-) as I can't paste them in here with no segue whatsoever. I often pop into the studio in the middle of cooking lunch or dinner and write in an unaddressed draft email the sentence or two that just popped into my head, while I was obsessing about some important topic of the moment. (Apple's Mail is easily searchable and always open. I hate Word. In fact, I usually call it 4-Letter-Word, and my beloved Write Now, which even 8 years out of date is the most intuitive user friendly word processing software ever invented, no longer works on my G5.)
The weird reality is that I have so many nearly formed books in my head on such a diverse range of topics (Yeah, don't. I know who this sounds like, but there are no 800 page trilogies in store.) that I'm in some weird limbo of perpetually writing and perpetually feeling stuck where blogging is concerned. In my very recent frustration of wanting to blog and just going on (and on) in private emails instead, I've realized I'm often opting for a second eclair, putting off the dinner of fillet mignon. More importantly, I just realized why.
Books have their own built in motivation for me, but whenever I think of blogging, I have to acknowledge that here in Jeannie's bottle, my desk is a MESS of bills, catalogs, office supply coupons, ancient CD's, and whatever toy Skyler has left behind. This is hardly the clear space some writers crave nor the blank page some fear. There are literally hundreds of books and all too many geeky blogs that discuss the idea of writing as "practice." Ick. Please, it's not weightlifting nor time on the treadmill (both activities that I loathe). This is a creative act. Don't suck the life out of it by relegating it, along with eating plenty of fiber, to the mere list of things to do every day because it's "good for you."
Getting back to my desk, it turns out that it's not the state of this slab of sustainably forrested Scandanavian pine causing me to feel like the words are being leeched out of me via a butter knife to a small vein. It's this little window that is making me gag on my own words. I used to blog on the field of yummy purple that is the background of my website, but Dreamweaver would go all haunted on me for no apparent reason on my old blog pages, and there was no sane way to create the all important RSS feed from there, so my friend, Matthew, graciously set up that which comes to you now, which has also helped to increase my audience. Previously, another friend had almost figured out how to change this boring, white with a little blue, Blogger window also to look like my site, but the blog itself never worked well with WordPress.
Now I know I've already lost most of you guys by now. Good thing I didn't use the word lavender to describe my site's background, or most men would have clicked away in confusion three sentences earlier. - Why is it that so many straight men are actually proud of the fact they don't know the visual correlate to the word mauve? - No, the trouble is that I can't see as much of my entries as a whole. There is instead, endless scrolling and clicking of the button "preview." There is also this persistent feeling that I'm really just on a comments section of some customer no-service website about to exceed the given number of characters allowed.
At this point, if your even still interested, you're probably asking, "Why the hell doesn't she just pop some flowery background on some other program, blog her little brains out, and paste the hopefully decent results in the stupid Blogger box?!? The answer is that when I do that, blogger publishes all the punctuation as $#*$&#*&*@ and vowels with umlauts or those single little doughnuts on top. Who wants to edit that? Oh, and blogger on a Mac means one actually has to type in all style and link codes. Yawn. Where's my butter knife?
If only I could collage on my virtual desktop! I would print my hand carved stamps in the margins and type in intense cobalt blue! I would tear bits of my hand painted rice papers, and glue them down to the edges with fake gold dust splattered across them. Instead, the sum total of my visual awareness looks like this.
Does this inspire your inner Angelou? If it does, you're probably not of the feminine persuasion. Might as well give me a steno pad, and order me to write the great American novel. I'm off to make an organic ice cream filled crepe with chocolate gravy on top. Now that's a visual!P.S.
Thanks to the Holons crew for including my blog in their list!
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