Quick change

I smiled yesterday.
Laughed, talked, joked around,
was happy.
And then I tried to go to sleep, but heard you.
I smelled you.
This awful, putrid, and manly stench.
I couldn't get rid of it.
And I tried.

I tried to hold my breath,
but my tears kept making me gasp for air.
I tried to cover my mouth,
but panic only echoed through my fingers.
Yesterday I was happy.
Now, I can't sleep.

Wait, you're a writer? Why? What makes you so different?

It's been some time since I posted on this Blog (hey, I'm still a writer.  Just working on other projects), but one of my dear Lesley cohorts/buddies posted a call to other writers on their writing experiences in the form of a blog.  Sorry it took some time to upload, once I accepted the challenge, but here it is.  And thanks Sabrina Fedel, Destination Providence (check out her blog) for the call.  Well, I'm going to start with the questions (below) and let you dive in to my answers.


1. What am I working on?

At this time I am currently working on a few projects:  I have two stage plays, two screenplays (a short and a full), and I am working on a musical.  I have also been working on something for the web . . . It's a lot of plates spinning in the air at once (pardon the overused phrase), but that's what keeps me motivated -- having plans -- so many plans where I have to give more than 110% at a time.  

So, that's the literary side of my projects, but I also am working on new music and compositions, because not only do I love to write, but I love music too.  And merging those two into my projects just seems fitting and natural.  


2. How does my work differ from others of its genre?


My work differs from other material in the same genre, because, well, it's mine.  Everybody draws some inspiration from other artists, whether it's music helping the writer focus on a plot, character or scene; whether it's taking personal experiences and writing those lives; or just writing what we want and how we want it.  Either way, we all take from something, in order to create something new.  But what makes my writing (mostly dramatic) different from what is already out there?  I'd say it's my want to tell stories I haven't yet seen.  Stories of people who sometimes never are discussed, or not fully.  Many of my characters are relevant, but when you've seen some of those characteristics in other media (play, film, etc), there tends to be either more grit than sympathy for the people, or too much and not enough understanding of their beginning leading to why they are that way.  

I also tend to write many scripts where there is a major focus on women.  Not that I haven't made plays with dominating male characters, but for the most part I like giving women characters a chance to speak.  

More importantly what makes my writing different is that it is told by me.  As bland as that answer is, it's true.  I write what I know, and what I've learned.  I write who I know.  Who I've witnessed.  Who needs to be heard.  And from where their stories should be told.  I've written many plays with young characters, because those are also voices that need to be listened to.  And without hearing those young characters, sometimes feeling silenced, you'd never see the growth in them -- and ultimately if silenced, that stifles them from changing for the good.  And isn't that really what we want our characters to do?  Change for the good?  Even if only for the action in the play.


3. Why do I write what I do?

Again, I write what I do, because I love what I write!  From music to screenplays to stage plays, it's all part of what makes me, me.  And I tend to write in more dramatic tone, because I've learned the hardest stories that you might not want to tell, are the ones that need to be told the most.  And because everyone has a story within them, we shouldn't just go for the positive ones, but tackle the deep issues and shed light to the stories hidden within.  Every character is flawed.  Every person is flawed.  And because of that, there are many stories to write.  And with each day I find more material to layer another story.  I write in a way that can speak for those who haven't yet found their voices.  

I've written material that I've (in the past) even been afraid to discuss.  And that's what makes it amazing.  Being able to delve so far that the dialogue happens.  And when it does, it's worth the writing.  

But ultimately I write because I cannot imagine myself doing anything other than reaching people through stories.  I consider myself an artist; a performer; an entertainer if you will.  And that is because I write to put the audience in a place where they are transformed into an experience only I can give them.  I write because there are way too many stories untold.  And I want happier endings, even if it's just on the page.


4. How does my writing process work?

My writing process works in such an all-over-the-place-yet-focused-way.  By that I mean, like many writers, I can write at any moment.  If an idea comes, no matter when, I have to write it down, type it up, or voice memo it.  When it's an idea from a dream (which has happened plenty of times), I wake up and quickly write what I visioned, and go from there. 

It can also be a song that gives me such an emotion that I know exactly how a character should be formed.  And when that's the case, I tend to put together a music playlist of songs that help me write, which sticks with me throughout the entire writing process.  

I've done storyboards, index cards, notes on Word, tape up sticky notes -- it all works for different reasons, and different ideas.  But with each various one, it's all about the focus.  Once I have an idea, and know that character, then I can start writing their story.  After a while it's me becoming them for the time being: thinking like the character; knowing what they would do, sort of like an actor preparing for an audition.  Once I'm in the mix of writing the story, then it's hard to get me out.

My writing process is full of many ideas, rewrites, tossing pages, going back to the beginning of an idea and rethinking, and reshaping the core -- which like other writers I know can be tough.  Because once I have a solid idea, which I love, it's hard to let go.  But again, I have to think about why I write.  Because it's not just about me.  It's about those stories that need to be told.  And however long the writing process may take (unless there are deadlines, which seem to be the case quite often), I must stay focused and write.  

Did I mention that I sort of have an obsession with coffee and coffee houses when I'm struck with the writers moment?  Well, that's another part of my process.  I've learned from the best in many of my writing courses, that when you are being held accountable for your writing, you work better.  So, when I know I have a deadline (by others or myself), I lock myself away in a room with my headphones and music, books, notes, and a laptop set to Final Draft, and write.  And when I'm in the coffee shop, I do the same -- even if it's in public, I find myself a corner spot, headphones, books, notes, laptop set to Final Draft and I immerse myself in the story -- forgetting I'm still in public.  There have been many nights where I have stayed in said coffee shop until they were closing, only to pack up and head home for more writing, because I was still in the zone.

Most writers are probable aware with how difficult it could be to get in that writers moment.  But once you're there, you don't want to stop. 
--------------

Besides myself, there are plenty of other awesome literary people (also fellow Lesley University MFA Creative Writing cohorts), so please check out their blogs:

Michael Anthony, A Veteran’s Perspective…
Alexis Marie Writes
Cynthia Platt, Scribbling in the Garret

Confused Much?

Sometimes we are at the top of our game -- riding these amazing adventures, and not looking down.  Other times, we are just trying to grab onto something.  Anything.  But we just can't.

It is as though we feel we aren't good enough.  Not worthy enough to make ourselves happy.  Or possibly not good enough to take in that happiness.  I know many people who feel that way.  Heck, I do, on some occasions.  And many of my past posts have been an indication of that.

But still, we keep going.  Some of us.  We keep pressing on.  Because we don't REALLY want to give up.  To not reach our potential.  Yet, those moments when nothing seems feasible, we think we can't.  Can't make it.  Can't survive what we've just gone through, or constantly been enduring.

To those people:  (as "Hallmark" as it sounds) you have to keep going.  And I know this contradicts my own thoughts.  Especially when they continue to change.  One moment I'm happy.  Thrilled to be here.  Other times?  I feel as though EVERYTHING is coming down, crashing all around me.  I don't want to be a burden with my words.  This is MY blog, so, I just thought I'd describe myself.

It's confusing.  I know.  These moments confuse me too.  Just earlier, I was happy, smiling and thinking of the future.  And then . . . out of nowhere, something clicked.  Like an autopilot switch.  One that constantly is in between, but more so on the off position.

You become entranced in thoughts.  But those thoughts are blank.  Weird, eh?  Blank thoughts, which then turn into memories.  Ones that are in fact actually you -- in that moment -- in that space -- as though time were standing still, and you were just observing.  But it's not an observation.  It's you.  It's me.

We are the same.  We are what forces one another to not give in to our forced wants.  Because quick fixes are indeed not the solution.  We are the same.  Pushing one to fight until we cannot stand to go any further.

And then -- click.  We're back in the same situation.

Glue

It's another Friday, and I'm sitting inside my room.  Nice weather.  It's mid afternoon.  And the blinds remain closed.  I want to travel outside, and feel the air.  But instead, I sit here, beside my three fans.  And let the modified breeze take over.  I don't think of things to do -- fun, exciting, young adult, or 20 something things to do -- because that's just not who I am.  Although, I could be wrong.  I could be that person, wanting to dance the night away.  Going for a drink in a sports bar, while cheering on my favorite team.  I don't know . . . I never really knew, because I let myself stay in too much.  I've become accustomed to taking chances, professionally, and educationally -- more so than personally.  Not that I think of myself as afraid to try.  Just afraid of failure.  And what's to be afraid of, anyway?  

Each day continues to play out the same way.  And I'm drained each morning, thinking of the never changing cycle.  At times though, my focus changes, but not on the positive.  Not on going out and trying something new.  No, instead, my focus switches to daydreaming about a new life.  A new journey.  One that's not on this earth.  You see, I can force myself to think ahead -- way  ahead -- as if nothing matters.  But that's only when EVERYTHING matters.  And when everything is drowning me.  

I'm stuck.  I'm at the point in my life where either I should be out exploring (especially in the city I live in), and having fun.  But I can't.  I don't know why.  I don't understand how I can feel the need for a change, but just can't do it.  

I work hard.  I stay focused.  Big deal -- most people do.  And I put extreme amounts of perfectionist pressure on myself.  Big deal -- again, most people do.  I've had the same mentality of never feeling good enough, ever since I was young.  That, I know, will never go away.  So, I push it aside, not thinking about it, and stay focused.  I continue working hard, never letting myself think of what I could be doing.

And then I take a break -- because someone says, "relax, you've been working too hard.  You need sleep, or to just get away from what you're doing for a little while.  Then go back to it."  So I take their advice, and breathe.  But that's when I feel my throat closing.  When I feel I'm losing control.  Each time I take a break, I'm never really relaxed.  I remain focused on what still hasn't been done.  What needs to be accomplished.  What I haven't gotten right.  And what I know I messed up on.  I can't take the break.

The only break, which comes from me, hyperventilating, is what sends me to cringe.  I break.  This isn't something new.  Or fascinating.  Most people reach their boiling point.  And I do the same.  I control it, to the point nobody knows.  So that I can't make them worry.  You see, I worry about other people reacting to what I'm doing.  

Perfectionist.  That's me.  Always wanting the best -- especially for others.  And when I feel pressure piling up, I hide it.  "No worries," I tell people, who ask how I'm doing.  "Everything's great," I push out of my typing, to those who send me a message to check in.  I don't like speaking on what I'm going through.  Unless it's positive.  Not that I don't think people would want to know, and help.  But, I've always found it difficult to ask for that.  To proclaim I cannot do something.  That I'm not adequate enough.  Even when I do think that, most times -- I can't say it to someone else.  

And as the time continues to change, I continue to sit.  In the same spot I was when I woke up.  I'm taking a break.  A mental break.  And one I'm too familiar with, which breaks me even more.  

It's not every day.  But most days, when I feel drained.  Yet I keep going.  But in the back of my mind, I know I want to stop.  Stop it all.  So, I pretend (to myself) I'm alright.  My self knows better, but it goes with it, anyhow.  On those days, when all I can see is taking another route -- a one way journey, I force myself to continue.  

I don't know how long I'll be able to keep it up.  But for now, I'm still trying.  And although my mind drifts back and forth, between being up and down, I remain upbeat for those I love.  Even when at times, I can't feel the same towards myself.  I'm stuck.  Wanting to get away from it all, on most days.  And feeling nothing, on others.  

I'll take this break, and then I'll get back to being focused.  I need this break, and yet when I'm on it, I'm not really.  But, I'll try and keep going.  I'll try, because I know I'm working towards something I want.  And the perfectionist side of me, won't stop until I make it.  So, I have to make it.  I have to force myself to NOT break.  

Because if I do, I'll never get to feel the real breeze.   

Nathan Bransford, Author: How to Know You're a Writer (In GIF Form)

Nathan Bransford, Author: How to Know You're a Writer (In GIF Form): Any time you're not writing your novel you're still thinking about your novel: When people ask you for your thoughts on their...

Just Do It . . .

You can sit inside a coffee shop -- where you're going to begin to reek of coffee beans.  You can constantly make lists -- which slowly get checked off.  Or, you can just get back to work.  Now, I'm not totally speaking of procrastination.  I'm talking about that little urge one gets when they're half focused and half perturbed at not being completely there.  I'm talking about the minute when you're working on something and then you lose your work, before hitting SAVE.  I'm discussing the moment when your deadline hits and it's already the next day.  Nike has a motto for continuance.  Right?  Well, that crap doesn't always work.  "Just do it . . ."  That only works when complete concentration is there.  It only works when you want it badly.

Getting work done, means putting in the work.  It means sucking it up, and just doing it.  When your recording a song, it means -- take after take, keep going until it's where it needs to be.  If you're working on a blog post (hey there), it means to continue writing until you hit, "publish," and you're fine with the outcome.  Although for some of us writers, you're never really all that happy with the outcome -- not entirely.  And lastly, for those of us that write larger pieces -- it's about starting, no matter how early or late, and continuing until you feel that click inside -- that part that says, YOU'VE GOT IT . . . KEEP GOING.  When you make it to that moment, that's when no time frame, no smell of coffee beans, and no abundantly insane lists make you cringe.  That's when you know you can do it.  That's when Nike makes a valid point.  That's the moment in where you can't think of anything else, but to keep writing.  And you do.  You Just Do It.

Stopping to save lives?

So, what happened to me today? 

I guess there is a reason behind being in the right place at the right time.  Less than one hour ago (around 6:45pm or 7:00pm), while biking back -- taking my normal route -- I spotted something strange happening.  No, the immovable traffic was not that . . .  Well, not entirely.  No, I witnessed stopped traffic, because there was a guy behind the wheel of a KIA, trying to go onto the freeway, from the exit ramp.  Yes, bizarre, I know.  But that wasn't the weirdest part.  The most surreal part was, get this, no one wanted to help.  Instead, everyone's first reaction was to just blow their horns and proceed to scream at the unaware, elderly gentleman.

Not me, however -- I didn't know it before my bike trip, but I guess I was ready for anything.  I jumped off my bike, once I crossed the intersection -- and walked up to the mans car.  Fortunately his passenger window was slightly down, so I could get my words to him.  I stayed with him, trying to calm him down.  He didn't have to show it, but I knew he had to be terrified:  everyone staring at him, mostly because he was going onto ongoing exit ramp freeway traffic, but also because this was out of the norm.  I spoke ever so gently, trying to ease his mind.  While also keeping an eye on the cars that were unsure what was going on.  I asked questions, just as if my American Red Cross training kicked in -- just in time.  Yes, I knew how to check if someone was incoherent, and no, just because he was trying to enter an exit ramp, did not justify my assessment.  I continued to ask him question after question.  I made sure to assure the other drivers that I was doing something to hopefully prevent him from crashing into ANYONE. 

Well, lets just say the questions were answered in a round-about way, where everything was done with a "yes," and head nod.  Obviously he wasn't okay.  And neither was the situation.  Even some of the stopped traffic goers -- the non douchebag ones (who yelled at the guy, and myself) offered and did call the Police.  I called too.  Hey, the more officers, the better.  Because I had been there for such a long time, I guess people began to think I was part of the situation.  And partially that was correct.  I was trying to prevent any harmful ordeal. 

After about 10 minutes of getting the elderly gentleman to look at me, and stop his car -- leading into him putting his car back in drive and inching up ever so frighteningly, I had had enough of my own bartering.  I had to make a defensive choice.  And this was completely imposing to him -- but I had to enter his vehicle (good thing it was unlocked) without his permission.  I had asked him to either put his car in Reverse, or Park -- but with his mental state, he'd just go back into Drive every few moments.

So, I asked one more time, and then I just went in.  I opened his door, realized his car was an Automatic -- I quickly put his car in Park and took his keys out of the ignition.  After that, I knew it would be okay -- for the other cars.  But for him, I was still unsure.  Officer Baldwin of the FHPD arrived on the scene in a good amount of time, and that's when I could release my first breath of fresh air.  A trained person had shown up.  Officer Baldwin came over, and I told him what happened (what I just told you guys), and then I gave him the keys.  He told me what I wasn't even thinking at that moment:  that I might have saved someones life.  Especially since it looked as if nobody else wanted to step up and do the right thing.  That by comforting the elderly man, and quickly taking action, I made sure no damage occurred. 

I didn't leave once the officer arrived.  I made sure to stay with the gentleman until the combined Fire Rescue and Ambulance showed up.  And even after that, I waited with him, right up until they loaded him onto a stretcher and into the EMS.  If he didn't think he had anyone, he had me. 

Gawkers . . . It amazes me how many times we see gawkers and get mad that they're holding up the flow of traffic, yet we never think about why it's happening.  Or whether the people halting the traffic are trying to make a difference . . . It's just fascinating.  Don't you think? 

On the way back from biking another 12 miles . . . I was just in the right place at the right time. 

I guess that's the good thing about taking a bike, instead of a car . . .

Layered

 

This is what most people think of, when they think of children:  an open space; a jungle gym; a peaceful day.  And yet it's empty.  There are no inhabitants.  Nothing but wildlife to run a muck   The way that it was originally intended to be.  A preserve for those who were here prior to the construction of pieced land.  Animals sneaking their way into the grass, flying so low, so that they can have what humans have made theirs.  Almost as if that small patch is their journey home.  Like Dorothy, just hoping to find their way back.  Back into their reality:  nature.  Untouched by human hand or machine.  Preserved, and still reserved for their rights.  To roam, jump, fly, or climb, just like any other human (minus the flying -- unless on a swing  :-p).

Goodbye

**Disclaimer:  This is strictly a poem.  In this moment, it is just words that need to be said . . . **

I need to scream
I don't know my wants
Maybe I want to leave . . .
Maybe I want to suffer . . .
Whatever it is, I want to do it alone

I have to get out
Before I strangle my only positive voice into submission
Force myself to give into my own demise
Just to get away from those who try and break me

I won't let them do it --
It's my life

If I want to escape, I shall
It's only when . . . 
When my melancholy dredges up, and I have only one option . . .

GOODBYE

Inspiration comes from Dedication

Wow, I can honestly say, this Act II revision is going insane.  And definitely in a good way.  I am scraping so many of my original material, and starting fresh -- just in time to hit SEND and submit my very last assignment for my Third MFA semester.  I have been given such a huge push of motivation, after hearing of my Mentor's Writing Binge.  I'm guessing that's the way I'm going to attack my Fall Residency manuscripts -- which are soon approaching.  Two new files to send, and then it's back to reading hundreds and hundreds of pages of scripts, prose and whatnot.  AWESOME.  I'm beyond stoked.  In exactly five weeks I'll be on another adventure.  One that I've been waiting for, for such a long time.  Now, back to work.  Because I get my cues from my Mentor -- I'm only taking this short break, and then it's back to finishing this assignment, even stronger than I started!

Leaving

Shutting down.  Running away.  Where?  I don't know.  Sometimes it's just that easy:  just to get on a bike and go.  Go anywhere.  And anywhere but here is where you want.  It can take any amount of frustration to push you towards a limit.  I've hit many limits, and at times I just wanted to quit.  But then I look into the skies, and see a few birds fly by.  And then there's that one lonesome looking bird, passionately soaring into another direction . . . That's where I want to be.  That's where I see myself.  Not following other peoples ideas as to what they think I should be doing. Or who I should be.  Not breathing in their unwanted energy.  Just going it alone.  Blissfully floating.  Immersed in my own fascination.  However bizarre -- mine at least.


I dream about escapism.  Traveling so far, no one can catch me.  Being away for so long, no one remembers me.  And yet I do want to be remembered:  for taking a chance; for letting my feelings melt away; for trying; for leaving.  Damaged thoughts, huh?  But that's what I mildly contemplate:  leaving.

 

Even when there are amazingly happy moments, I'm still not all there.  I'm thinking of another place.  Any place.  Surrounded by nothing but nature.  And maybe it sounds isolated.  Maybe anti-social.  Who cares!  That's where I'm at.  Forcing myself to snap out of it.  But hoping no one notices, so that I can feel free.  Away from it all.  Away from them all.

For Good

Sometimes disappearing and getting away, is meant for good . . . Sometimes the only way to handle something, is to wander off into nothingness . . . To make NO apologies for letting go . . .

Pushing the Pedal(s)

Another day of Insanity.  Another day with a new-ish workout regiment, including supplements.  And another day of pushing myself to the limit, by including way more cardio than I should have ever thought of doing.  Not that I can't get it done.  But, after already doing one hour of Insanity and extra exercises that I've created, I decide to go for a 15 mile bike ride.  Granted the morning workouts give me so much needed energy to get through the day -- biking in heat with the sun baring down on me . . . Not the smartest thing to do.  Still, I feel great.  That is until I reach those HILLS.  The capitalization is what I feel when I lay eyes on them:  the death incline.  :-o  It's as if I begin to lose my energy just by glancing at the steepness.  At points I sit up higher, and push down even harder on the pedals.  Going.  Moving.  Getting a distance.  But then something happens.  I realize the wind is beginning to blow -- right at me.  So, I push harder.  Until I feel my tendons arguing with me.  Yes, my muscles talk.  Maybe I should listen?  :-p

I continue, but at a different pace.  I decide to move one pedal at a time.  This time, not overly exerting myself.  Yet in the process, I have absolutely NO speed, therefore I am almost at the point of going backwards down the incline.  So instead of making the partial trek almost unbearable, I just get off and walk the half way uphill, until I reach the top.  And after I get there, it's downhill AWESOMENESS.  That is, until I get to a driveway or blind spot area, where I know I'll have to quickly slow down, losing my speed, cut my thrill, and STOP.  Hoping my brakes get the memo, and do just that.  15 miles to accomplish, and I know on the way back, it's another set of hills.  And maybe even more sun.  Maybe I should have opted to just bike to the gym and do indoor cycling.  But there's just something about being out on the open road (minus the cars), iPod of bikeable tunes, and a clear mind.  There's something about losing yourself in the knowledge that you're just going for a ride.  Even if you've traveled that same path many times before, there's still a possibility of something new.  And who knows, you might just discover a new path.

So, you keep going.  Letting the road, wind, and music take you where you feel like going.  And after those 15 miles and early morning workouts, you feel like going, once more.

Out with the Old

I guess my high school reunion is going to be happening soon . . . Well, relatively soon, as in a few years.  I use to be under the impression one was to think about going to these things.  Like we were all waiting to see one another and catch up.  However, because of multiple social networking sites, there's really no need to go to one.  Granted it's a personal and face-to-face connection versus online communication -- still, hasn't one learned enough from the people they are waiting to meet up with?  Older people use to speak of how they hadn't seen their classmates for over 10+ years and how excited they were to be in the same room, again.  And that got me thinking:  Do I really want to waste my time being there?  Not that I wouldn't gain anything from attending.  I'm sure if I worked hard at trying, I could get something out of being there.  But unfortunately, there are no mysteries of reuniting with people whom you already know most things about.  Again, not that I'm saying everyone discusses EVERYTHING about themselves, and then posts that online -- but the majority of people who might attend, you've already been filled in with their life journey:  children, married, married with children, school, working, graduating, getting close to graduating, etc.  There aren't really that many other options, besides the human inevitable; ceasing to exist.

Welp, I guess that's my venting for now.  I'm going to go ahead and retreat from this blog, and get back to what I need to focus on:  Revisions and Submissions.  Oh, and hitting SEND.  I promise that in  the next blog, I'll be more forgiving . . .  :-p

Happy for Jinkx

I just had to post a video I found on YouTube, pertaining to my favorite Drag Superstar (besides RuPaul), whom just recently took the title of the newest Drag Superstar from RuPaul's Drag Race.  I have been a fan of Jinkx Monsoon's for so long, so watching these videos (I'm only including one -- go watch the others too :-p) gave me another reason to smile for her win!  Yay, Jinkx!  :-)

Submissions

There's just one major assignment left to SEND . . .

Where'd that come from?

I've been doing Insanity for a few weeks now, and I can honestly say I'm seeing results. Not only have I become even more energetic (if that is at all possible), but I've also realized bruising on my arms (I don't like tanning, so it's extremely noticeable). Now, with the inclusion of my newest workout, diet and overall fitness changes, I'm a bit confused as to how these bruises are forming, especially when I don't feel them . . . I MUST figure this out, before my arm turns into one giant red bruise.

Weeks away from another change

It's April already, and it doesn't seem to be slowing down.  Unimaginably every semester seems to speed by.  Faster than each Residency.  Weird.  This semester has gone by SO fast, and in a mere few weeks it will come to a close.  I just cannot believe I've almost made it through my third semester of Grad school.  I say "almost," just because I have one major thing left to do:  finish Act II of my Full Length play.  Well, I guess I have more than one -- since if the second act turns out better than the first, I'll be rewriting Act I.  So, yeah, I've almost made it.  But that darn countdown to fourth semester is giving me a steady push to "get er done."  I just wish this semester wasn't ending so fast.  But, you can't have it both ways: a continuation of third semester (for a few more weeks) and the beginning of my final full semester as an MFA grad student.

The weeks will soon be blending into days, and with that change, gives me a reason to blissfully smile.  In a few weeks I'll be with my buddies, again.  I'll be in an environment where I can take in literary-awesomeness at its best.  I'll be able to push myself farther than I've done in the past.  Take chances.  Interact more.  Speak.  Show what I've learned.  And learn even more.  These changes are what I'm looking forward to making.  It's the end of April, and soon it will be the end of third semester -- the beginning of a fourth semester/residency . . . This will be my moment to make it happen.  No more shying away from things.  There's not much time, and change IS coming.  Hopefully within these last few weeks,  I'll feel that accomplishment and charge inside of me. 

Insanity, it's just that . . .

Shaun T.  is putting me through the wire with "Insanity."  Not that I wasn't aware of the craziness before I began the program, but, WOW.  I'm only a few days in and I can totally see how much this is kicking my butt.  I'm looking forward to completing the 60 days, especially since I changed my already Vegetarian diet, to a more intense one.  Let's just say I was happy with just eating Tofu, Tempeh, and Soy based food, and mostly once or twice a day was my food intake.  But now, I have to consume 5 meals a day.  Needless to say, this is bizarre for me.  I don't really enjoy food to begin with.  But because of the results I want to attain, I MUST eat.  Boo.  I guess it's not going to be easy (besides the fact it's called "Insanity.") 

Don't worry, I'll be posting short messages about what is going on.  Not all posts will be about "Insanity," but this week most will be.  Counting down the days until my final full Residency, which leads into my final full semester of MFA life -- which I've also managed to lump with this insane program.  I cannot wait for the moment where I can be where I need to be.  Progress, eh?  It's still happening. 

Unreal Connections

Have you ever met someone that you wished you could be close to?  Nothing too intimate -- just great friends?  Or better yet, have you ever become friends with someone you never in your mind imagined forming a connection with?  It's amazing how many great buddies you can make when you stop focusing on what you think you already know.  When you realize closed minded characteristics are what can cause a possibly good thing from happening.

Through my many travels, here and there -- mostly there, I've had many encounters with new faces, and by giving those people a chance, was able to form new friendships.  The strangely frightening moment of meeting someone new is when you're standing within distance of them and you feel the urge to make conversation, but have no idea as to what to say.  I mean, is there a commonality?  You know, besides you both being in the same place at the same time?