To Boldly Write What I Want to

The practice of writing everyday through 30-day challenges has been an exercise in many things. Among them…

Finding time
Identifying a topic
Not allowing myself to become distracted by others’ agendas

Perhaps the greatest challenge for me in the last 16 days has been knowing when to stop editing. I am a compulsive self-editor measuring every word, phrase, sentence, paragraph, and essay until I either cannot read it again or just decide it is time to let it go.

Not once, thus far, has it been time to let it go.

There are people in our world who fancy themselves expert grammarians. These are the people who always correct you when you say or write things like, “What cruise ship were you on?” or “I am going to carefully weigh my options.” They are overly concerned with the rule of law as it pertains to grammar while overlooking the spirit of law which, with regard to language, is to ensure clarity of expression. Their assistance is less about educating you than is it about patronizing you. Perhaps it’s a relic of my school days, but I’ll admit my fear of being called out by the grammar trolls has prevented me from ever being satisfied with my final product.

Now…before anyone begins crafting their grammatically-flawless rebuttal, let me clarify. I do believe that using proper grammar is important in any form of communication. That includes email and texting. On its surface, poor grammar is equated with ignorance, lack of education, or carelessness, but on a deeper level it can serve to diminish the effectiveness of one’s message. Most grammar rules exist to make sure that we precisely communicate our thoughts. When these rules are repeatedly ignored, one risks ambiguity at best and at worst erosion of the audience’s confidence in (or even their willingness to hear) the message.

When I edit in this forum, my goal is a maximum of 4 passes. In the first I look for grammatical errors (“its” vs. “it’s”; “they’re” vs. “there” vs. “their; dropped apostrophes; misspelled words)…anything that makes the sentence unintelligible. Pass number 2 is for culling redundancies, removing sentences and paragraphs that feel unnecessary, or for cleaning up clunky construction. The third pass is to read what, in a perfect world, will be the final product – mostly to ensure that any previous editing didn’t create more problems. Depending on how that 3^rd pass goes, I may or may not do a fourth. This has happened maybe 10% of the time.

The other 90% looks like this:

I start reading for grammar and realize that I am shifting tenses all over the place. This becomes an obsession and I read the rest of the piece looking only for incorrect tense. At the end, I realize I neglected everything else. Pass 2 is then focused on all the grammar I missed…but the phone rings and instead of ignoring it I answer it or I don’t answer but worry about what I am missing as I continue to skim the rest. Once again, I reach the end and know that I missed something. Pass 3 is for grammar again, but the part of my brain that has been silent about content up to this point just can’t keep quiet anymore and so I start noticing things that need to be rewritten and/or taken out altogether. As I’m doing that, I realize that I’m missing the grammar but I’ll catch it next time, right? Because I need to check the grammar on what I just rewrote/retooled.  Pass 4, I’m supposed to be reading for grammar, but I still don’t love how the paragraphs are organized. I realize I need to fill my water glass because my throat is dry so I walk away -- without completing the pass – and tell myself that looking at it in a few minutes with fresh eyes will be better. This is when radio station KFKD starts playing. You can see where this is going….days like this it takes as many as 7 or 8 passes before I click publish.

Process aside there a few grammar rules that cause consternation just about every time.

Finishing a sentence with a preposition,
Using “their” as a singular pronoun, and
Splitting infinitives.

I fixate on these regularly spending lots of time reworking sentences that make perfect sense into longer, more awkward sentences that say the same thing, but in a way that make me want to punch myself in the throat. It’s because I was taught in every single English class from kindergarten to college that they are without exception incorrect.

Lies.

Beginning today, I am cutting myself slack where these rules are concerned because I can – and I need the extra 5 hours a week to sleep. Thank you to my good friends at Mental Floss for providing me the justification. Grammar trolls read here before you comment. And while you’re at it, read here too.

These are not examples of rules that textbook writers have capriciously decided to ignore because if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. No one is suggesting that it’s ok to say “on tomorrow” or “on yesterday”.

Because let me be clear…it is not.

Nor is anyone suggesting that other useful grammatical rules be tossed out the window. The sentence, “Your a idiot,” is patently nonsensical. Yes…when I see it, I know what is meant so there is some clarity of expression (incorrect form of You’re notwithstanding), but anyone who spoke those words would sound like the idiot because the correct article should be “an.” I would also hope to avoid the following faux pas: “All 10 of us face-planted into our bed.” That is only correct if there are in fact ten people sharing the same bed. Hopefully, I would never be sharing a bed with 9 other people so I would rewrite that to say, “All 10 of us face-planted into our respective beds.” 

Conversely, use of “hopefully” at the beginning of a sentence (as in the previous sentence) will henceforth be acceptable. Here is another example of something I’ll be ignoring from now on. I could rewrite that to say, “Here is another example of something that from now on I’ll be ignoring,” but does it really make the sentence clearer? No. Moving on. Preposition at the end. Not sorry.

The rules discussed in this particular article are essentially made up. The truth is, George Bernard Shaw split his infinitives, Jane Austen used “they” as a singular pronoun and if I want to end my sentences in a preposition, I will. And if any grammar trolls want to take issue with it, prepare to be ignored because your fanaticism is showing.

It’s easy for me to forget when writing – especially when I’m just blogging – that there is nothing particularly precious about any of it so I don't need to handle it with grammatical kid gloves. It’s my creation, yes, but I create really pitiful things all the time. Ask me to make bread…9 times out of 10, it will taste like chalk and go down like a brick and that’s only if I can get it to form. Ask me to sew something that isn’t a series of straight lines…it will be mediocre at best. I draw house plans when I get bored, I make up choreography for ABBA songs, and I create movie treatments from crazy stories that I read in the local section of our newspaper. None of them are good, but I’m not fraught with anxiety about how they will be received by the public because I don’t share them. It’s true I may care more about what I write because I do choose to share it but the outcomes aren’t going to have any fewer examples of garbage than any other endeavor – not as a percentage anyway. That’s the nature of the creative process. Thus, spending hours on grammatical rules that aren’t even real is fruitless.

I’m revamping my editing process today and we will see how it goes. The first pass is going to be for clarity of expression…am I saying what I want to say and does it all flow in a coherent manner when read from beginning to end? The second pass will be for spelling, punctuation, run-on sentences, and not for prepositions at the end of sentences, split infinitives, and places where I might have begrudgingly put “he or she” before.

I’ll be calling on my inner psychopath – who never cares what anyone thinks – to make this happen. I’ll need every single one of my 18 points from the PCL-R to not care quite so much.

Be the Bigger Goat

Today, I want to discuss trolls.

I confess I know very little about trolls…actual trolls, that is. Most people first encounter the concept of a troll in the children’s story, The Three Billy Goats Gruff. This story features 3 goats who have eaten all the grass on their side of the river and must cross to the other side so that they won’t go hungry. Unfortunately for them, a menacing troll lives beneath the bridge and will attempt to eat anyone who crosses it. Deciding the risk was worth the reward, the three goats (ostensibly brothers of varying size) cross the bridge one-by-one to try and find more grass to eat. When the first goat encounters the troll who threatens to eat the goat, he persuades the troll to wait on the next goat who will be larger and make a more satisfying meal. The troll agrees and lets the first goat pass. The second troll uses a similar argument in order to secure his safe passing. The third goat is so large that he actually kicks the troll off the bridge and joins his brothers on the other side. And they all eat grass on both sides of the bridge happily ever after.

I also remember the troll doll craze when I was growing up. I can’t fathom the motivation behind these. Something akin to a pet rock, I suppose? Or maybe someone felt that the mythical creature had been maligned for centuries and sought to soften public opinion? In any case, they were benign-looking creatures with big eyes and fuzzy fair. They decorated work cubicles, retail counters, rear-view mirrors, and backpacks through several crazes between the 1960s and 1990s. This is what they looked like:

Pretty harmless looking…certainly not something that would pose a threat…unless nakedness and/or anatomical inaccuracy scares you.

More commonly today, if I say the word troll, you think Internet Troll. This is a term I hear thrown around and have always wondered why that particular mythical creature was chosen to describe these people. So, of course, I Googled it.

Googling the word troll produces 3 main categories of results (aside from pictures of troll dolls.) These categories are (a) supernatural beings from Norse mythology and Scandinavian folklore, (b) references to Middle Earth and J.R.R. Tolkein, and (c) Internet Trolls.  I defaulted to the first of these categories as I believe they preceded the others and I discovered a few things. Though the specifics about a troll’s appearance, origin, or specific threat to people differ somewhat in each tradition, there are some things they share in common:

• They are primarily solitary beings.
• They are physically strong, but dim-witted and thus easy to overcome.
• They pose some sort of danger to humanity.
• They live in the dark.

Well there you go. Internet trolls are the people who sit alone behind the safety and anonymity of their computer screens. They search for virtual spaces where humanity might “gather” (comment sections on Facebook or news websites, pretty much all of Twitter), and they seek to spread their darkness and mayhem by slinging personal insults or discouraging civil discourse. We’ve all had an experience with an Internet troll and I'm sure you'll agree they fit all four of the above characteristics.

I’m no expert, but I believe that technology – and in particular the internet – is neither all good nor all bad. Even social media has a pretty amazing capacity to get some good things done. I think the internet can serve the greater good or it can erode society layer by layer…it’s all in how it is used. I’ve witnessed and participated in several very positive discussions with people via social media that I couldn’t have experienced otherwise because the parties were separated by great distance. These are valuable exchanges where people with different opinions share them in a forum of mutual respect.

Sadly, I have also witnessed and participated (as briefly as possible) in exchanges that started out that way and quickly deteriorated into a battle to the death between two fanatics which, according to George Santayana is "one who redoubles his effort when he has forgotten his aim." These battles are almost always about the following topics:

Abortion

Gun Control

Gay Marriage

Racial or Gender Equality

Religion

And this is how it goes:

A slanted “news” story or opinion piece is posted about some event related to one of the flashpoint topics above accompanied by the poster’s comment…something like, “YES…THIS.”

Others pipe in with opposing or supporting views and while the discussion may get lively as each person expresses his/her heavily researched and fact-based opinions, there is actually civil discourse taking place which, I believe, is the way we build bridges and come together. The main thing is that nothing gets personal…nothing, that is, until a troll lumbers up the creek embankment from his or her dark hole and threatens to eat everyone on the bridge. It is generally a comment like this:

All you (anti-Christian, anti-intellectual, gun-loving, bleeding heart, racist – take your pick) people are (evil, stupid, irresponsible, violent, mentally ill, etc.)

Very often the comment is laced with profanity and supplemented with a cherry-picked quote or Bible verse that they believe defends their hateful statement. Next, one of the following things happens.

(1) It escalates when one or more parties takes the bait and tries to defend/tear apart the troll until the original poster takes down the article or, if it gets really bad, someone is reported to Facebook for violating community standards.

OR 

(2) Everyone just leaves the thread.

Either way, any good that may have come from the dialogue…any light that might have been shined…is snuffed out by the dim-witted troll who believes that the more darkness he/she can spread, the more places he/she can go, and the more damage he/she can ultimately do to humanity.

Now…I agree that the topics I listed above are likely to illicit strong views from almost everyone and it’s one reason many people avoid bringing up or engaging in controversial topics on the Internet. I understand this…it’s the 21^st century equivalent of not discussing those topics at a social engagement and – let’s face it, that’s what social media feels like sometimes...a really awkward dinner party that is extremely hard to leave. I often avoid these topics on Facebook or Twitter for fear of inviting an unwelcome troll to the party.

I would argue, however, that equally strong opinions could be held on any topic -- from capital punishment to the plight of Tom Brady – and you never know when a troll is going to show up to ignite the discussion with a character attack on a defense attorney or a Patriots fan. Keeping the trolls away completely means disengaging altogether. Well, what if the Three Billy Goats had thought that way? They would have starved to death. Fear of the troll is what keeps us from surviving as a civilized society.

My thoughts on the best way to deal with internet trolls?

Don’t let the troll’s darkness overcome your light.
Don’t engage in a fanatical battle of the wits with a dim-witted troll.
Be the biggest goat and kick that troll off the bridge so you can get to the other side and share a meal with your brothers. 

I mean, if we don’t engage in discourse and explore opposing views in a civilized manner – on social media or face-to-face – how do we expect to keep getting better. There’s a place where people go when they stop listening to their opposition…

It’s called Congress and I believe we can do better than a 16% approval rating. I need to believe that humanity is at least 50% good.

And one more thing about those goats and the troll…

I think it’s significant to point out that after the 3^rd Billy Goat kicks the troll off the bridge, the troll doesn’t die, he just stays under the bridge…in the dark…and never bothers anyone again. From here he can hear other goats crossing the bridge so he’s never left completely alone -- just powerless. I'd like to believe that each time someone crosses the bridge and the wooden slats shift up and down and side to side...that just enough space is created to let in small beams of light so that on a really bright day, sunlight reaches that troll.

That’s a hopeful ending…for fairy tale and internet trolls alike.

Five Years and Counting

Well…I missed 2 days in a row. Sorry not sorry. I had a great weekend and actually sat down to write a couple of times, but it didn’t work out. I’ve already forgiven myself...and I'm quite certain that you all survived without me. 

We are finally getting some fall weather complete with 60 degree running weather in the mornings and I couldn’t be happier about it. I’m nicer to my running people and I’m nicer to my family when I run.

Speaking of running…have I mentioned that I am signed up to run not one but two marathons in the next 5 1/2 months? That’s nothing special I realize because people run marathons in back-to-back months…hell, back-to-back weeks sometimes. What I also haven’t mentioned is that I’ve been trying to do this for… no lie…5 years. Five. I am not even sure anymore how many I’ve signed up for and then not run for one reason or another. I think this may be 7 and 8. 

Various things have kept me from completing the training…illness, extreme heat for weeks on end, and injury. My favorite non-completed marathon story is, of course, the one for which I did complete all of the training only to have the event cancelled the night before by a horrendous ice storm which, incidentally, never happened. That was two years ago and the ensuing bitterness has impacted my attitude about running ever since. I actually took 8 months off completely.

Last February, I traveled to New Orleans – an annual race trip with friends – but I didn’t even register for the race. Instead my husband and I were the sherpas…driving our friends to the race start, going out for breakfast and Bloody Marys, and then going to get them from the finish line. That was fun too, but not the same as when we are all hobbling back to our car after the race. All of us whimpering every time we have to step up or down at a curb. And then after we shower, we proceed to eat the entire city of New Orleans before face-planting into our respective beds for well-deserved sleep. I still did eat all of New Orleans after the race this year, but it doesn’t feel as satisfying when there is no preceding run.

As we were sitting around…perhaps on our 2^nd or 3^rd cocktail of the afternoon…we all received an email announcing that if we signed up for next year’s race before the end of the weekend, we could do so for a steeply discounted rate.

We weighed the pros:

• The marathon finisher’s jacket probably would cost more to buy than the race cost to enter.
• This particular race series doesn’t care what you actually do, it only concerns itself with what you pay for, so even if we came down and only ran the half marathon, we would still get a bitchin’ jacket out of it.
• Long-term goals are good.

And the cons:

• Hey…where did my drink go? I’m sorry…what were we talking about.

Anyway, you get the picture. Essentially, ½ a bottle of red wine signed me up for a marathon and now I’m sort of committed to doing something.

Meanwhile, a few weeks later before the oppressive Memphis summer began (which usually happens in the middle of April) I was running with my in-town running crew and the topic of my marathon came up. It was suggested that I should sign up for the St. Jude Marathon here…which is almost 3 months before the one in New Orleans. The argument was that I needed to slay one here in my hometown before I tackled one out of town. And then if I didn’t ever want to do another one, I could still run the Half in NOLA and, of course, still get the marathon finisher’s jacket…which is the whole point right?

For some reason…must have been the runner’s high…I decided this was a good idea and on May 1, I signed up to run the marathon and signed up to raise $1000 for the patients at St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital.

Well, the full marathon isn’t going to happen…I am not ready to start training for that kind of distance. But I will do the half and I will happily raise $1000 (hopefully more) for St. Jude. If any of you want to support this wonderful cause, I would welcome your support through my donor page. Click the photo below for more information:

CLICK HERE TO GO TO MY DONOR PAGE

The kids of St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital really appreciate your support!

So the new plan is…Half Marathon on December 5…marathon on February 28…and I’ll finally get to mark it off my bucket list. And let me tell you, I may not eat any refined sugar between now and then (after 14 days this is a lifestyle that is starting to feel doable), but if I get the 26.1…I’m going to bury my face in the largest piece of chocolate cake you’ve ever seen.

Headache be damned. 

Matter Over Mind

Well…I think I’ve finally come to grips with turning 40. Two years late.

I’ll admit that I have spent way too much time being sad about all the stuff that I can’t (or shouldn’t) do anymore like:

• I can’t lose weight fast or get away with not exercising for a couple of weeks.
• I can’t check the box next to that coveted 18-25 marketing demographic.
• I can’t audition for American Idol – not that I want to, I just think I should be able to because Steven Tyler and Mick Jagger are in their 70s and they are still playing to giant crowds of screaming people. So why is 30 a magic number, Simon Lithgoe? Explain yourself.
• I can stare at hot college guys on the beach – but I shouldn’t because…Cougartown.
• I can do Jello shots but definitely shouldn’t. And I learned the hard way.

I have not spent enough time rejoicing in all the things that I don’t have to do or that I get to do such as:

• I don't have to try to be cool. No one is buying it anyway.
• I don't have to involve myself in drama. It's not my circus and those are not my monkeys -- and I'm really close on this. Really.
• I don't have to constantly self-edit because measuring every word is exhausting and unnecessary. I can say what’s on my mind and not be afraid.
• I don't have to feel obliged to “go out” because I am perfectly capable of entertaining myself. I get to say no to all-night dancing at the Honky Tonk. I have spent many long evenings dancing to country music and drinking really bad beer but without an ounce of enjoyment. I don’t like country music and on a scale of 1-10, I would rate my enjoyment of line dancing at a -4.
• I don't have to worry about how I look. I get to wear clothes that I like and feel good in rather than having to figure out what’s fashionable or trendy. I never have to step foot in Abercrombie and Fitch or Hollister or Express ever.
• I get to choose with whom I spend my leisure time (for the most part).
• I get to allow others to make different choices or have opposing opinions without interpreting it as a character judgment. And if they are judging my character, I get to ignore them.

It’s all very liberating.

I figured this all out today in a unique way and almost in a split second. I went for a job interview…my first in over 17 years. It’s a job for which I am well-qualified and would really enjoy, but going into it I knew that neither of those facts would matter as much as my personality and how well it harmonized with the person to whom I would report. With this in mind, I went in determined to be exactly who I was and be completely authentic in my interaction. I have had bad jobs with bad bosses and horrendous personality clashes and in most of those cases it was because I led them to believe that I could be something…or someone…that I was not and did not want to be. That is a recipe for a bad fit.

Today, I put on something appropriate, but comfortable -- not a power suit, but a representation of what my everyday appearance would be in that office setting. I answered questions very honestly about

• things that I like in a work culture and things that I don’t
• what my true skill set it and where my weaknesses might be evident
• how long I was willing to commit to the position

I was truthful about my expectations and everything pertinent to their decision and the result was that I have never been more relaxed in a job interview. EVER. It was one of the most pleasant conversations I can ever remember having. I was wearing a sweater and boots – in September in Memphis – and I didn’t even break a sweat. It wasn’t that I didn’t care…honestly, I think I would really enjoy this job…but I don’t want to work anywhere that doesn’t want the real me.

However, none of that led me to my epiphany…that moment came as I was exiting the interview room and saw the next candidate sitting there waiting her turn. 

Bless. Her.

She was half my age…for real.  She was impeccably dressed in a red power suit, not a hair out of place, makeup flawless, sitting upright like she had a pole attached to her spine, and a look of terror on her face. I didn’t stare, because….of course I didn’t stare…but as I glanced at her face I was sure she might start crying. Anyway, I breezed past and exited the reception area and all I could think of was that was me 20 years ago. I ached for her remembering that I was so desperate to be valued for what I could do that I gave no thought at all to making sure I would be valued for who I was…because I never gave them a chance to meet that person at the interview. 

Of course, I’ve just judged this poor young woman based on a cursory glance and I truly hope I misjudged her. I hope that she went in there and blew the interviewer away and that it was as pleasant for her as it was for me. And if she turns out to be a better fit, I wish nothing but the best for everyone.

I don’t do red power suits anyway.

It all reminds me of this quote by the great philosopher Theodore Geisel (Dr. Suess):

"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind."

Maybe the best thing about being in my forties is that when I hear that quote or anything about the importance of honoring one’s identity, I can smile to myself – not the cynical smile of someone thinking “yeah…right”  – but the satisfied smile of someone who believes it.

I Am Not a Coyote

Driving down Poplar Avenue in Memphis is exactly like playing MarioKart. The other vehicles are all driven by strange looking animal people and they are all evidently on some sort of race course. The only thing missing are mushrooms…on the road that is. Hallucinogenic mushrooms might actually explain what I see out there some days.  I kept looking for a box with a question mark on it so I could zoom out of danger or throw a green shell at someone, but in the end I was forced to rely on basic defensive driving skills. My motto on the road here:

The safest assumption these days is that I’m the only driver around me who is not talking (or texting) on the phone, putting on makeup, eating, painting their nails, and/or reading the newspaper from behind the wheel. At one point, I was in the far left (of 3) lanes and I had TWO CITY BUSES pulling out toward me…one from the left into the suicide lane and one from the right across the far right lane in front of close oncoming traffic and into the center lane right next to me. It was straight out of Moonview Highway. I feel lucky to have survived the 3-mile trek from downtown.

This morning I was supposed to run but was sidetracked by a sinus headache…the third in 4 days. I have often entertained the possibility that going for a run might actually stop a sinus headache. I imagine my collective foot strikes shaking loose whatever is creating pressure in my sinus cavities and my headache miraculously disappearing. The problem is that I only entertain such thoughts after the headache is gone. The only thoughts I entertain during the headache are popping Ibuprofen and laying down with pressure on the offending pain.

But have I ever mentioned that I need to run. Just like I need to write.I am not always good about giving myself the things that I need. I am quite good at giving myself things that I don’t need and I spend hours pondering why this is true. Is it just easier to distract myself with Facebook or food or Candy Crush or a rerun of Castle? I mean really…why is it so hard to give myself the things that I need? To be continued…

This morning, after the Ibuprofen kicked in, I spent about 30 minutes on Facebook and can I honestly say that it is responsible for both the most minutes wasted during my day but also some of my most entertaining thoughts…entertaining to me, that is. Sometimes, I share these responses in comments, but it occurred to me recently that I shouldn’t be wasting them on Facebook because they would make excellent fodder for my writing. Sometimes these brief brain soundbytes trigger deeper thoughts and I should really be saving them for this forum. Facebook is fine for obtaining material, but if I share it there than I feel like Mark Zuckerburg owns it and he already has enough.

Here are a couple of random posts and the accompanying thoughts I had this morning…like a rollercoaster ride through my conscious brain. These aren’t in any particular order (mainly because I don’t remember what order I saw them and Facebook is good at spontaneously rearranging things). In fact, I just screenshotted everything that elicited a tangible thought so I could share them later.

This, however, I am sure was first:

Post: A New York Times article headline National Geographic and Fox Form a Commercial Media Company

Thought: I have finally found a mushroom…and apparently I ingested it because I seem to be hallucinating. Weirdest bedfellows ever. NatGeo features the natural beauty of our planet and Fox features the Family Guy and Sean Hannity. I guess that’s what they call diversifying?

And then all this happened:

P: A YouTube Video – Weatherman nails pronouncing Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch (which is evidently the name of a real town in Wales.)

T: Not enough vowels. This is what happens when people are allowed to name things (or people) at 3:00am as they stagger out of the corner pub. I would have liked to have been in the makeup room while this guy was practice-chanting this word over and over and over until it rolled off of his tongue because it was really impressive that he did it without stumbling. But then who would have known anyway because there aren’t enough vowels for it to be an actual word. There are 4 consecutive L’s for crying out loud.

****

P: From the Commerical Appeal – Memphis announces its plans to honor former coach John Calipari

T: In other news, Satan installs central AC in Hell. Also, Derrick Rose opens ACT prep institute and think tank in Chicago.

****

P: From Mental Floss – Chuck Jones’ Rules for Writing Road Runner Cartoons

T: We should all have rules this clear and concise. I should write some rules for each 30-day challenge. “A fanatic is one who redoubles his effort when he has forgotten his aim." ~George Santayana. We have a Congress full of coyotes. Also…say “Rules for Writing Road Runner” 10 times really fast.

****

P: From the Washington Post – A giant ancient virus was just uncovered in melting ice – and it won’t be the last.

T: I hope whomever uncovered it isn’t figuring out a way to weaponized it…or that the food industry doesn’t figure out that it tastes good.

****

P: From a friend via onlyinyourstate.com – Move to these 10 towns in Tennessee if you want to get away from it all

T: If I lived away from it all, what would I do on vacation? And even if I did decide to live away from it all, I wouldn’t move to any of these places because now that everyone knows where to go, they won’t be away from it all for very long. Las Vegas was once “away from it all”.

****

P: From The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon – the clip of Fallon and Justin Timberlake performing History of Rap 6.

T: If Jimmy and Justin performed all rap songs, I wouldn’t hate rap songs. During a 5-minute medley I recognized 2 songs and one was by the Beastie Boys from 1987.  When did I become an old white man?

****

P: Reposted by at least 4 FB friends – This…

T: Hashtag Truth. Also…I miss Lost.

There were more…that’s just a sampling. It’s a weird ride and then I look at the clock and 30 minutes have passed.

The good news is that in the midst of all of these non-life-altering thoughts that flood my brain, some good stuff filters out too. It’s like panning for gold….mostly dirt and pebbles, but when you find a diamond in the rough, put it in your pocket. So I did some of that too and now, for a few days at least, when I’m show up to meet my muse, she/he will see that I’m have not come empty-handed.

Is this really day 10 without sugar? I still want something sweet sometimes. I’ll tell you what there is too damn much of on Facebook and that is freakin’ recipes for dessert. I hide them. And then I eat a grape…which is enough because the ones in my fridge have clearly been engineered to be the size of my head. I have to cut them in half like I used to do for my kids when they were babies. Facebook temptation notwithstanding, I guess this is starting to feel like it could become the norm. But I also know that Charlie is lying in wait and all it will take is a single bite of something sweet and he will wake up ready to party again.

I suppose I’ll need to spend the next 20 days ponding if this really should be forever and whether or not that is even realistic. Also, if I do indulge now and then after the challenge is over will I have to endure the withdrawal headache each time. Since I’m evidently going to continue having sinus headaches and driving headaches …because I live in Memphis... regardless of what I eat or don’t eat, I’m going to have to decide whether anything tastes good enough for long enough to endure a headache I can prevent.

Me Playing With Photos

I’ll admit I was a skeptic about this FitBit fad. I don’t like gimmicky or trendy anything…diets, books, clothes, technology, body-types (like whether the booty size du jour is Kim Kardashian or Kate Moss)…I am really reluctant to adopt anything that everyone is talking about. It makes me feel like a lemming. It’s why I was the 2^nd to last person I knew to get a smart phone. It’s why I haven’t read Eat Pray Love. It’s why I don’t watch Game of Thrones. And it’s why I just try to ignore fad diets in favor of just eating real food, and letting my butt be whatever size it wants to be…within reason of course.

My FitBit is special though. It wakes me up in the morning, it helps me track food and water intake, it measures my steps throughout the day, and it monitors my sleep at night. And I’ve found that the last piece of that…the sleep part…is what I have learned most from in the last 3 weeks.  It’s helped me determine that the fatigue I feel when I wake up in the morning isn’t related to sugar…it’s related to actual fatigue.  My weekday sleep habits are pretty bad.

Here are some snapshots of what my sleep patterns look like on two particularly bad nights. Pink means I was awake. Light blue means I was “restless” which I guess means I moved for too long. Dark blue means I was asleep.

Here’s a snapshot of my best night of sleep so far.

My goal is supposed to be 8 hours. That seems like pie in the sky except for when I can be a weekend sleep warrior. Which is rarely.

So what can I change to get more sleep? I can’t get up later because my kids leave for school at 6:40am…so they can be ready to start their day at 7:15. Because isn’t that when all high schoolers are at their best? In December, it will be still be dark until halfway through their first period class.  Wrong wrong wrong. We’ve tried to convince the school system to consider things like science and adolescent sleep patterns when making decisions, but they apparently care this much…

So maybe I should go to bed earlier…I mean that’s the obvious answer, right? All I have to do is go to sleep at 9pm I’ll get those precious 8 hours. Provided I don’t spend 59 minutes “restless” (did you SEE that?) and assuming that my kids don’t need me to actually interact with them after they have gotten home, eaten dinner, and done their homework. I hear that quality time is highly overrated. But someone forgot to tell the offspring.

Naps? Does that even count? And is it even allowed? This is 'Murica not Spain.

Or…I could stop falling asleep watching Friends every night. Have you ever watched TV in the dark? It’s pretty trippy. You can see the flashes (which are unusually bad during commercials) even through closed eyelids. Most of you probably just face-palmed as if to say duh…yeah…turn off of the freakin TV. But that is an oddly scary proposition for me. I’m afraid if I stop watching it, Nickelodeon will stop showing it. And if they stop showing it, it will be like the 90’s are actually over and I will have to adult all the time.

I’m going to have to ponder this further. No answers (that I like) on the sleep front. Maybe I’ll just wait until I get so tired that I face plant fully-dressed into bed every night. But rest assured I'll keep you posted...pun intended.

My muse hasn’t arrived today – I guess he/she doesn’t want to get out in the rain – I have no deep insights today…no revelations about life to share. Only that sometimes I show up and the magic doesn’t happen. Or maybe fatigue scares away the muse. 

Whatever... it is what it is and tomorrow will be different. 

Showing Up

If you’ve been reading this blog from the beginning, you may have noticed that I don’t really have a theme here beyond updating readers on my 30-day challenges. As much as I love Jen Hatmaker and Glennon Melton (momastery.com), I’m not them and I don’t want to be. They are both good writers who, with time and patience, became great writers with interwoven topics following common threads which developed into awesome messages which earned them huge followings. I believe this happened because they valued their own voice and then practiced this craft in order to have their voice heard. In that order.

I’m getting better about the first part – valuing what I have to say – but in the meantime it doesn’t hurt to get a jumpstart on the second part. There are two voices in my head that convince me I should get on with the business of being me and sharing it through the written word. These are not the voices of doubt on KFKD, nor the voices of Helen or Charlie, these are the voices of actual people who don’t live between my ears.

The first one is actually the memory of a voice and strangely enough the words weren’t even spoken to me, but to my mother. I guess it’s been a couple a years now, but apparently my mother ran into a former teacher of mine somewhere and after they chatted a bit, this former teacher asked my mother, “Did that daughter of yours ever become a writer?” When my mother told me about this conversation, I was very surprised. I couldn't have guessed that this teacher would have remembered me as anything more than the daughter of a colleague (my mom is a teacher too) that she happened to teach in 10th grade English. She had never given me any reason to believe she thought there was anything special about me or my writing. In fact, I don’t remember this teacher fondly because she gave me my first B. My mom and I have always joked that the first B was really a gift because it proved to me that I would survive my imperfection…but in still pisses me off. I remember her grading my end of the year exam…the one that would determine my semester grade…and I needed a 98 to make an A. I stood there over her shoulder (because she let me) and as she wrote 96 at the top of my paper, I detected a faint smile…like it made her happy that I didn’t achieve my goal. I sulked back to my desk and then spent the next two years of high school fake-smiling at her in the hall anytime I passed her classroom. And now I find out she thought I had potential? Way to inspire lady…a decade or two late.

But I now hear her question in a combination of her voice and my mother’s…fairly frequently. 

“Did that daughter of yours ever become a writer?”

The second voice is that of Elizabeth Gilbert’s…and it’s not from Eat Pray Love. I’ve never read that. It’s her actual voice from a Ted Talk she gave in 2009 called “Your Elusive Creative Genius.” It’s really good, it almost makes me want to read that book… almost. I generally try not to read books that lots of people gush over…although I have aspirations to actually write a book that lots of people gush over so I don’t know what that’s about. Anyway, the talk is a really compelling discussion about creative genius and where it comes from. She suggests that since the Renaissance we’ve so distorted the origins of creative genius that many of our artist-types end up psychological basket-cases. Her ideas are great and she presents them in a really entertaining way so I’m not going to spoil it…go watch it. The piece of it that sticks with me...that I have developed into a mantra (one that I believe even if I haven’t always followed it) is the importance of simply showing up on a regular basis to let your creative muse (wherever that resides) do its thing.

Showing up is first…consistent output is second.

So…”Did that daughter of yours ever become a writer?” Not yet, she’s still working on showing up. I just need to make it a habit.

There are a lot of people out there making claims about how long it takes for something to become a habit – most commonly it’s 14 or 21 days. I know myself to be particularly stubborn about…well…everything. That’s why these 30-day challenges seem like a good fit and why for the really important habit, I’m going to give it an entire year. A new habit each month (if I continue them past the 30 day commitment) that will hopefully help me think more clearly, live more fully, and be more productive – a word I dislike* but will use here for the sake of brevity. And then at the end of a year, I will have shown up to let the writing magic happen every single day so that will have hopefully become a habit as well. I’ve even set it up so that the 12^th and final 30-day challenge is to write 1800 words toward a novel each day…even if what I have at the end sucks. I’m going to give it the whole 30 days and I’ll be ready to because I will have practiced showing up for the preceding 11 months.

What could go wrong, right?

On the no-sugar front…despite the 90+ degree high temperatures we are experiencing here in September, fall allergy season still seems to be arriving right on time. I woke up with a sinus headache and a stuffy nose. I’m glad I bought that giant bottle of Ibuprofen. On the up side, I’m not craving sugar as often and when I do, I’m indulging in grapes. They seem really sweet when I eat them…too sweet, really…and so I end up not wanting too many. That’s a positive. I’d be lying though if I didn’t express my disappointment at not seeing more of a change in my body. Weight loss wasn’t the only reason I chose the sugar fast as my first challenge or even the most important reason, but I was hoping that at the very least my clothes might fit differently. Or that running would become easier. Or that I would just feel more of a difference. Oh well…not giving up.

Tomorrow, I’ll tell you about this other goal that I set back in May…really back in February…no actually, it was 5 years ago. And I’m still trying to achieve it. This one you all can help me with.

Until tomorrow…

*I equate “productivity” with just output for the sake of output without any thought given to its necessity. It places a premium on busy-ness or making stuff. When we say people are “productive members of society”, we are valuing them for what they do and not for who they are. That leads us to measure a person’s worth in dollar signs and I’m not a fan of that. That’s why I bristle at the use of the word “productive”. I think we can value people for who they are and what they do so there’s got to be a better word. If there is and you know it...put it in the comments, please.