Ponderous, man

Plethora o’Friday Five. On a Saturday, no less.

  • What are your creative dreams?
    Are we talking about the NC-17 variety? Ahem. 😉

    I had a mental post ready called “Rut-Roh” about the creative rut I’m in, but I never typed it up. How’s that for irony? But the thing is, I want to paint — probably watercolors. But then apathy kicks in and I turn on the television. Let’s call it research. 😉

    I’d love to say that my gift is with words — but I can’t recall the last time I even wrote a poem. And lately, I’ve just had shit on my mind that would actually be resolved if I’d just take one of the many opportunities to just say the words already. In the past, I would redirect the emotions and channel them into poetry or prose, and I would heal. Maybe that’s what I need to do again.

    The last verse I wrote simply read:

    “All I know how to do
    Is keep blurring the lines
    Between what I wanted
    And what was left behind.
    I ruminate over all the words
    And sentiments unkind
    And keep rewriting history
    If only in my mind.”

    Of course, when I go back and read my poetry, I literally wonder who the hell wrote it. Like, I felt that way? I guess I get sort of immersed in the moment (read: possessed) and the pen just flies across the paper. Thank you, Muse. *mwah*

    My ultimate creative motivation is to write books like Patrick Lencioni’s, only more along the lines of “Five Dysfunctions of a Team” meets “Office Space.” And with true stories. 😉

    When Shan and I met at our last job, we became instant friends. We bonded over beers at Bennigan’s and always brought notebooks for when we discussed business ideas. Because we are entrepreneurial like that. We wanted to start a PR business and help companies to get their shit together and succeed. And we had side businesses to our planned side businesses, one of which was an awesome greeting-card line. Fucking genius. And out of boredom (OK, frustration), I started doing a comic strip based on the characters in our lives — which I abandoned as soon as I started it, but Shan and I did create the CUTEST little characters to use.

    I keep telling myself that, when we live in the same city again, the magical combination of us as a team will make fireworks displays of brilliance occur. In the meantime, we’re paying our dues and watching the world closely for inspiration. 😉

  • What do you do to make them real?
    What I need to do is get inspired and start banging out this stuff and selling it — slander lawsuits be damned. Just because people didn’t literally use my hair to wipe their asses does NOT mean that it wouldn’t make a fucking funny front of a greeting card for a colleague who’s feeling like they’ve been shat upon!

    I spend so much time thinking that my brain hurts. I need to get back into the groove of writing down these thoughts as they occur because there have been some brilliant ideas that I never captured. *sigh*

  • What would you do if time and money were no object?
    Not a goddamned thing but travel to the French Riviera and to Italy. And I’d take Shan and my mom with me. And I’d probably donate my body tto plastic surgery (while I’m still alive to benefit from it. Hah!).

    OK, I really AM dreaming. 🙂 You want the truth of the matter? (Like I’d give you anything but.) I want to start a charitable foundation. I’ve gotten enough funding dollars and organized enough fund-raising events to know how to get started. I’ll tell you exactly what I want it to be — I want to call it the Emerald City Foundation, and I want it to help creative people who are trapped in the 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. work world (show me anybody who works 9-5. I cannot name one person who has a normal schedule!).

    I want to help them fund their dreams of self-employment or of a side business (or hobby) that lets them use the skills for which their workplaces might not have any use. I want to be surrounded by color and sunlight and motion and ideas and whirlwinds of passion — I want to uncover the proverbial yellow-brick road that they might have lost their way trying to find.

    My foundation will also help people who unceremoniously find themselves without work but who are busting their asses to find it. Because I know what it’s like to have everything collapse around you and you’re standing among the ruins, going “WTF am I going to do?” Because people take the first job that comes along — anything to soothe the pending aneurysm or ulcer.

    They don’t have the luxury (although there was a lot of stress that came with it when I did it) of saying, fine, I’m going to take the RIGHT job, not the NEXT offer. Make the wait worth it. I want to make sure people will find the right fit rather than whatever’s on the clearance rack. Or maybe they get something “good enough” and I’ll help them to find their passion — and Shan is BRILLIANT in that department, so I can throw her some business that way. 😉

    And if I can sponsor some graphic designers, printing people and book agents, I’m so totally going to be set for life in my creative endeavors.

  • Who are the supportive people in your life?
    Mom, grandfather, Shan, Angie, Tiff, my second cousin Carole. The blogosphere.

    My circle is tiny, but that means the space in my heart is all that much bigger for each. I used to have the grand circle of friends, and many of them were truly awesome people. But I’d rather focus on a handful of PHENOMENAL people instead of a herd of not-really-that-close people.

  • What makes you unique?
    I used to bitch about this on my old blog. Leona Thompson — my A.P. Classics teacher in high school — looked at all us smartasses and informed us that were were NOT special.

    She’s right — life has taken its turn fucking all of us up the ass at one time or another. (Dear Life: Use lube next time. And at least move the ol’ panties aside, mmmkay?)

    Thus, I wouldn’t say I’m unique but rather that I’m goddamned LUCKY is that I can be falling apart and somehow survive. I can scrape my heart off the pavement and still look up at the sky and smile because the pinkish-orange color of the sky at sundown absolutely takes my breath away.

    I march to my own proverbial drummer. Sometimes it’s easy-listening; other times it’s heavy metal. Lately, it’s trance. I just try to groove no matter what the tempo and to fake my rhythm till I find it or till somebody shows me how to move.

  • On iTunes: Spiller, “Cry Baby (Royksoop’s Melselves Memorabilia Mix)”

    One Lonely Response to Ponderous, man

    1. Anonymous :

      You go, girl. I hear you about the rut… I mean, how bad is it? Bad enough that I have to put aluminum foil on my dog to kick my muse into gear!