Friday, September 30, 2011

Stupid chocolate sayings

I've had a baggie filled with Dove dark chocolate wrappers on my desk forever. For some reason, at some point, I found the sayings on the inside of the wrappers ridiculous enough to want to save them and blog about them later. But once they were in the bag, I guess they weren't stupid enough to get around to.

But today I'm avoiding real work because my husband is home. I don't know why I can't write fiction when he's around. I can blog. I can't write articles. But I can't do the fiction thing. It's bizarre. And it's not like he stands in my office pouting or something. He's in another room. I can even close the door and pretend he's at work. But, really, I can't. This is something that will eventually have to be worked out, no?

So, on to chocolate wrappers. I think the people at Dove think they're real cute. But I've never been the type of person to like silly sayings that sound like they're deep and meaningful, until you think about them and they turn out to be stupid. And Dove chocolate-wrapper sayings are a lot like that.

Here are some of my favorites:

"Promise to stop and smell the chocolate."
This one is necessary, really. Clearly the Dove team knows that I've got a pile of chocolates on the table next to me while I watch Project Runway and I'm unwrapping them and shoving them into my mouth much too quickly. So, they need to remind me once in a while to slow down and enjoy. What they don't know is that lately I haven't been paying any attention at all to the sayings. Instead, I ball the wrapper up into a red pea. Naturally, without the reminder, I've gone back to manic stuffing. I've always thought that chocolate was meant to fill the entire mouth.

"Enjoy the childhood joys of winter."
I don't like the use of enjoy so close to the word joy. But I can get over that. I grew up in Central Florida. The only joy I can think of is the kooky neato thing of being able to go outside barefoot, wearing shorts, a top, and a sweater. If you want to have hot chocolate in the winter in Florida, you might get one or two evenings suitable; otherwise, you have to turn the AC way down. That's why I prefer to just eat chocolates.

"Happiness is one bite away."
Nice. Thanks Dove for encouraging me to continue to see happiness in food, instead of in self-awareness, intellect, and actually producing something worthwhile. I'll just sit here some more and eat.

"Chocolate therapy is oh, so good."
This goes right back to it equaling happiness. If you're depressed or upset, just eat some Dove chocolates. If they don't make you happy, it's clearly your fault.

"A good love is delicious because you can never get enough."
What? Wouldn't that be akin to having an itch that won't go away no matter how much cortisone and scratching you apply? What they want you to do, apparently, when you take this one with the last two, is see Dove chocolate as love and just keep eating it. That's why it's delicious, see? Because you just can't get enough of it. I really should discuss how the saying in itself makes absolutely no sense. But I think that goes over on the other blog.

"You are exactly where you are supposed to be."
Sitting on the couch watching The First 48, gorging on chocolate?

"Perseverance is a synonym for victory."
No, it's not. Take Westboro Baptist Church. Those people persevere. And they're insane! They are not victorious by any definition of the word up with which I can come. (He, he. That made me think of upchuck and I was talking about Westboro Baptist Church.)

"Here's to something more powerful than chocolate. Hope."
Okay, first of all, while I'm eating your chocolates don't tell me there's something more powerful. Because, first of all there probably isn't. And second, it wouldn't be hope. Hope has no power whatsoever. It involves no action, no commitment, no power at all. It's just hoping. I'll take chocolate any day. Lucky for you, Dove people.

And finally, I found one wrapper--one wrapper in all my years of scarfing dark chocolates and reading the silly sayings--that actually applies to me!

"A pessimist is really an optimist with experience."
Thank you, Youla, from Jamaica, NY! You sound like my kind of gal.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Well, that didn't work out as planned...

I got up and I did actually turn on the laptop in my office. But I also turned on the PC in the computer room. And I sat at the PC all morning. I guess my excuse was that I was going to the college today so I could write there.

As usual, I read a lot of news stories trying to come up with some inspiration to write an Examiner article. The good news is that Examiner has lifted the oppressive "local" criterion for local Examiners. Now I can write about anything related to my topic no matter where it's focus is.

So, clearly, deciding to go ahead and check my emails in the morning is not a good idea. But how to get into the fiction mood so early in the morning? It's all just a matter of habit. Trying to create a new one feels a lot harder than undoing an old one.

I suppose I should see that first tiny step of turning on the laptop as progress. Grasping, pitiful, miniscule progress.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Bored, bored, bored...

Well, now that I've quit most everything and flagged most of the email I get as junk, I really have nothing left to do in the mornings. I guess it's time (already!) for a new change. It's time to turn on the laptop in my office in the mornings, instead of my PC out here in the computer room.

I'll eat my breakfast while doing my morning blogs or just jumping into writing for the day. Why not? There's no point in sitting out there in the main room staring at facebook (which, let's face it, has become more frustrating than illuminating in all respects).

I've never considered myself a morning person. It's one o'clock in the afternoon now and I had to force myself to blog. But I'm blogging. Who knows what might emerge from my half-asleep brain at eight in the  morning? I will have to give it a try.

I looked into taking an online workshop with Writer's Digest University. I was interested in one on writing sci/fi and fantasy. But I didn't like the idea of writing assignments. I want to write what I want to write, not an assignment. (I understand the problem some designers have while on Project Runway. I mean, I can see the creative education a person can get from designing a look using only items bought in a pet store...on the other hand, I can see where a designer--already a creative individual--would like to just get on with his collection. But they signed up for it. And I've really digressed.)

So, anyway, my husband asked if I wanted to take the class just to get out of writing and I thought he had a good point. I decided to check into buying the textbook instead. And while I was looking at it and all the other books Amazon recommends, it occurred to me that Writer's Digest books are really just recycling all the stuff I already know into more books for me to read to keep from writing.

So, I decided to blog before I go to the doctor about my hurt foot. And when I come home, I will have to try to plant my butt in the chair in my office and do some writing.

My Outline 4D program should arrive on Friday and I'm looking forward to getting into it and working on planning a bit more for my projects. Woot. That is all, Florida.

Monday, September 26, 2011

Cavity Sam has pants!

I saw a Hasbro Great Games Trade-in commercial the other day. They've given Cavity Sam pants! Because, as we all know, when you go in for an operation, you wear your polka-dot scivvies.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011


I got my hair cut yesterday. Whacked might be a better description. It was very long. The only reason I had long hair was because of Zumba. When I think about it, it's so stupid.

Zumba has this rock star thing going on about it. Zumba instructors are like party hosts. They're stupposed to face the class, hoot and holler, pump them up, and dress the part. Long, wild hair is good. Make-up is great! Jewelry even better.

I just never could do it. I couldn't face the class, to begin with. I'd been in Zumba classes where the instructor faced the class and it was awful. Not only did I (an experienced dancer) have trouble following the leader, but I witnessed new students give up in frustration.

It takes real talent to face the class and know when to turn your back to demonstrate a particularly challenging move. And I've seen few instructors with that talent.

Back to the hair. I let my hair grow long and permed the top layer so it would be ringlet-y all over. But I never wore it down for class. (Well, once, just to see if I liked it and I did not.) I wore it down for most of the Zumba Instructors' Convention, but I was just showing off.

It's a workout, you know. They don't like to talk about it, but it is. You sweat. A lot. I never understood why someone would show up in full make-up and regalia for a workout. But, I've always been of a more practical nature.

So I go in and there's this wonderfully attractive stylist with nice hair. It's always a plus when it looks like your stylist cares about how she looks. This one, Christina, had thick, straight, blonde (?) hair cut into something of a bob, shorter in the back, longer in the front. Very cute!

And she's playing with my hair and I'm telling her I want it just above my shoulders and she says, "It'll curl up as it dries, won't it." And I said yes, indeed. So, she gave me her bob, basically. It's SHORT! But I told her I wouldn't scream if it was too short and she took me at my word. It's SHORT!

And it's shorter in the back and longer in the front, which is sort of weird for a purist such as myself. I I stylish enough for this do?

And then there's the problem of my enormous face. I'd forgotten about it, you know, after all this time of it being somewhat minimized by the long hair...except that I most often pulled it back into a tail. Funny, with my hair pulled back, my face doesn't look so god-awful huge. But with this short do, cut right about chin-level, it jumps out at you like a pumpkin. A square-jawed jack-o-lantern.

Which reminds me it's nearly October. My middle kid already requested candy corn and couldn't wait for me to go to the store; he brought home two bags of it himself. (I always tell him he's an adult with a car...hello!) Okay, okay, back to writing...

Monday, September 19, 2011

Why do they hate babies?

Have you seen those Gerber commercials with the toddlers who do things toddlers can't really do? Are you as freaked out by them as I am? It's just not natural (like sweating in your bra). I am so bothered by them I went to Gerber's website and tried to complain. I wanted to ask them, if they cared about babies and toddlers so much, why were they trying to make them into freakish little adults?

But they wanted all of my information before I could lodge a complaint and I decided it just wasn't worth it, especially since I could come here and mouth off about it. So, cut it out, Gerber! Babies and toddlers are adorable the way they are. They don't have to juggle and break dance to get our attention.

So, you're wondering how the writing has been going, aren't you? Meh. I have a lot of work to do and I'm planning it all out. I think I'm going to have to write on weekends as well as weekdays. There's just too much to do to take weekends off. But for some reason, I have trouble writing when my husband is in the house.

Today, I spend three hours at the community college and I have my writing plan in place.

My foot still hurts and I don't miss teaching Zumba yet. One of my former students sent me an email pretty much telling me how insane it was that I would quit teaching. Maybe it is weird to purposefully not do something you're good at. But I can't do everything I'm good at. I'm good at so darned many things. Sometimes you just have to make a choice.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

So, now what?

Okay, so...Zumba quit. Frontierville quit. Facebook time extremely minimized (used only for trolling for links to be used for my websites and Examiner). Blogging begun in earnest. Signed up for Writer's Digest Webinar on writing for children. (It's always good to start out by spending money.) Need to clean out my office. And then the hard part. The part about actually writing. Producing words on paper/screen every day.

Blogging words don't count, unfortunately. If I could make a living and be widely read as a blogger, I still don't think I'd be satisfied. Examiner writing doesn't count either, though I am determined to get that started up again (I have a lot of frustrations that can only be exorcised through rants on my Examiner pages).

Only fiction writing counts. Daily. Words. Daily on the screen.

I found counting words, some time ago, to be a tedious exercise. But I may have to do something like that, just to make sure I'm working.

Luckily I have some frustrations of the sort not suitable for Examiner that can propel my fiction. Happy writers are dull writers, in my opinion.

Monday, September 12, 2011

I hate it when the Bible is right...

Two things from the Bible today. (And yes, I did totally link to Wikipedia just in case you didn't know what I was talking about.)

One: It is done. (Paraphrased from John 19:30) It's probably sacrilegious to use that; but I'm not religious, so for me, it's just this saying that came to mind today when I made a very difficult decision and executed it. (Ha. I said execute and I'm talking about Jesus. Too funny.)

And the second thing: You can't serve two masters. From Matthew 6:24. Except Matthew was talking about God and money and I'm talking about writing and Zumba, which, in a way, maybe, are the same as God and money. Except not "God" with a capital G, but "god," as in the greatest thing ever!

So, here I am. Ready to commit to writing full time--immersing myself in the writing life as I've tried to do so many times before. But let's face it. Zumba has crippled me (I hope not for life because I don't want to live with this pain's depressing.). So what choice do I have? I might as well just be a writer like I always wanted.

Friday, September 9, 2011

Raised a wimp, always a wimp...

Right. So, I see the last time I posted here it was February. I don't even have the time or energy to relate everything that has occurred with regard to writing since that time. Suffice it to say that actual writing has been  minimal.

I am seriously considering giving up Zumba...again. I'm injured right now and haven't taught a class for almost two weeks. I don't miss it. I almost dread going back. So, why should I?

I mentioned the idea to hubs and he thought I was out of my mind. You can't quit Zumba. Your foot will get better. You won't write even if you quit Zumba. Zumba isn't the problem. If you wanted to write, you would write.

And then I told my dance teacher that I might not continue and she said, but you love it!

Sigh. I love parts of it. But I don't love that it's a job. And I don't love that I love it. I spend so much time on it. Looking for music, finding, learning, or creating choreography. Practicing for class. It consumes my life.

I've started writing two days a week while my son is at the community college. But two days a week isn't good enough.

I know I'll miss Zumba if I quit. But I'll be fifty soon. My foot hurts like hell. And god damn it I want to be a writer!

Why do I let Zumba and other people push me around?