Caterwauling

And all through Chez Dawn
The Apple G4 hummed expectantly
Yet the author’s mental state was gone.

As she updated her profile
Panic set in
Because she has no fucking idea
How her novel will begin.

Bestow unto me, my beloved Muse, the opening line that will incite a torrent of brilliant (and even not-so-clever) literature.

The pressure’s on — the clock starts ticking tomorrow. I’ve been thinking about my characters for days. Hell, I’ve been thinking about them for years. I’ve fallen in love with a secondary character and damn near lost interest in a primary one.

I know in two weeks, I will hate them all. But right now, they are my babies, the many facets of my personality, my lovers and friends and enemies, all rolled into words.

And that’s what this is all about — words. Thoughts. Sentiments. Longing. Desire. Vitriol. Love. Passion. Anything but indifference. Losing myself in my fantasies and nightmares and the things I never daresay aloud.

Writing to process the past, ponder the present, plan the potential occurrences that I’d love to happen in my very own life. Allowing them to happen to my heroine. Letting her ache and triumph and live in ways I wish I could. Transferring my myriad fears and my strength into a character the pages can barely contain. Becoming her, living as her for 30 whole days.

Should be easy — I’ve done it for 30 whole years. This month, I get to be who I was meant to be.

Muse, give me strength.

More crap about me. Oh the joy you must be experiencing.

1. What’s for breakfast today?
A cup of coffee and a cookie.

2. When is the last time you left your state/country?
I leave the state every day to go to work. Sounds more glamorous than it really is. lol. I’m actually going to traverse a few states this weekend. It’s weird — when you live in the metro D.C. area, you’re crossing state lines several times a day (*yawn*). But when I lived outside of this area, it was such a wondrous odyssey (i.e., a PRODUCTION) to leave your little hole in the world.

3. When is the last time you lied to someone?
I always lie and say I’m fine when I’m not. I squelch my emotions to the point of implosion. No wonder my blood pressure is a million over a thousand.

I don’t lie about anything else — I’m more than happy to share my verbal dysentery with anyone who will listen.

4. If you celebrate Christmas, what is the day typically like for you?
Cats ripping around the house, barfing up ribbons and shitting out bows.

5. Describe the last time you felt truly content.
I was watching some display of cinematic wonder with someone, with his arm around me and my head on his shoulder. I can’t even tell you what the movie was about.

6. Would you rather stand upright for 7 days straight or lie flat on your back for 7 days?
Stand. Even at bars and restaurants and such, I prefer to stand than to sit. I’ve lain on my back for days at a time (after surgery) and it sucked.

7. What is your favorite fruit?
White peaches. They grill up beautifully on skewers full of chicken and peppers.

8. How many keys are on your keychain?
Six — two mailbox keys, two house keys, a car key and a key to the Club that I never use.

9. Brag about something.
I’m going to participate in NaNoWriMo tomorrow!

10. Ask me something.
What random act of beauty have you witnessed recently?

An old Friday Five that felt entirely too appropriate:

1. Who is your favorite superhero?
Wonderbra. She lifts and separates with a single credit card appearance!

2. If you could have any superpower what would it be?
Ah, a super-sexy tomcat has declared that I shall be “Whatever Woman.” And that my arch-nemesis is the Crimson Assclown.

My power is that when my nemesis (or anyone, for that matter) annoys me, my powers kick in and, with a dismissive flick of my wrist, I send the nitwit scurrying for relevance.

3. What would your super outfit look like?
I’m still going with the Wonderbra. Preferably in black, perhaps with some kind of tiny sparkle. I might even kick in the extra coupla bucks and buy the matching underwear. Oh, who are we kidding — of COURSE I need the matching scandalous underwear!

4. What would your super villain/nemesis be like?
See “Assclown, Crimson” above.

Anyone spreading insipidness, irrelevance and general idiocy to the world, causing stress and pain to the intelligent people who can’t get a word or an emotion in edgewise.

5. What would your catch phrase/calling card be?
Um, duh: “Whatever, OK?”

Also, I have a Happy Bunny sticker on my car that says “Eat Me.” I got it because that’s my favorite thing to say. Might need to add it for emphasis.

Why is it when I say that I am on meds, everyone automatically assumes it’s Prozac?

Sheesh — am I THAT tightly wound?!?!

Then again, don’t answer that.

Ah, the ever-quoteworthy “Grey’s Anatomy” rides again. …

There comes a time in one’s life when she realizes that she has spent so much time trying to save the world or, at least, the worlds of those around her. But, while she wasn’t looking, she forgot to take care of herself. And the wear-and-tear eventually starts to show.

For me, that day was yesterday.

And that time in one’s life? My 30s — the time when all of my friends have told me that your body changes so much that your mind needs to follow suit.

For me, years of overachieving and now oceans of guilt over not being as far ahead of the game as I planned to be or, hell, as I used to be have officially taken their toll.

I’m mad at myself for falling behind — and I’m weary at all the life events that I’ve missed out on as well. But I’m aware of all the steps that I skipped in the process, and maybe this is my time to go back and learn what I didn’t know then. And to make things right.

That said, it’s pretty bad when you’re in with your new physician for 10 minutes and you’re being shoved out the door with a purse full of meds and a list of workups they want to do because their diagnosis is that you’ve officially driven yourself nuts. Ha.

I’ll be fine soon enough. In the meantime, this is a grand opportunity to make a new beginning — time to delete all the 3,000 e-mails I had the best intentions of answering but never seem to get around to doing. Time to excavate/clean/pack the house, go on vacation, do that writing that always makes me happy, find my dream apartment, dust off the elliptical — and do it. Motion begets momentum.

Outstanding issues make me nervous and render me ineffective. I think that’s why I’ve become brilliant — nay, addicted — to multitasking. Because being super-busy is a wonderful distraction from noticing all that remains unresolved.

When you’re clinging to a life preserver, you wonder why you’ve held everyone in your life at arm’s length for so long — why you’ve been so afraid of really, truly being touched in every way possible. How you can offer up every single part of yourself to anyone to asks, just as long as they don’t stay the night. How you’re taken aback when someone wants to corrode those walls — how you’re even more stunned when you find yourself being anything but opposed to the idea.

I’ve spent my life being a book-smart overachiever. But whether it was my intention or not, I always wanted to fix the people and things around me — all the while letting myself collapse with nary a hint of wanting to preserve me.

For the first time in my life, I’m going to need help. I’m going to ask for it and even take it. And if all you can do is just love me, that could very well be what I’ve needed all along to help me to heal.