I’m doing NaNoWriMo this year and THIS YEAR I plan on actually going all the way with it. (I’ve started about 3 times before but never made it past week 2.) The only problem is that, unlike other years, I don’t even have a premise and am pretty sure I’m going to sit down and ramble for 50,000 words, which won’t really make me feel like I’ve actually accomplished the goal. I mean, I ramble for 50,000 words every month as is; shouldn’t I at least try to make it into some sort of story arc? But then, there’s a reason I’ve never made plans to write a novel and that’s because I don’t really want to write a novel because I don’t think I’m the Novel-Writer-type so much as the Essay-and-Short-Story-Writer-type. Could be interesting. Maybe I’ll take a couple spoonfuls of NyQuil and let a premise come to me…

Anyway, yes. That’s happening. (The NaNoWriMo thing. Not the NyQuil thing.) And I’m trying to drum up business. And I’m halfway through my first book from my 15 Months of Canon Project. And I’m jumping back on the Weight Watchers Wagon, ’cause that’s been shot all to hell this month.

And that’s what’s up.

Earlier today I wrote a blog post in which I addressed my 13 year old Self, hoping to pass on a little hope and wisdom to her years ahead. Although it wasn’t anywhere close to my best work, I found it to be healing and significant nonetheless.

This afternoon, I went to the local DMV to finally apply for a North Carolina drivers license. When I was filling out my registration, the agent mentioned that I was already on file from 1996, when I received a government ID in order to fly alone, which I had forgotten about until that moment. A freaking HOUR later, I sat in the chair and tried not to look dead-eyed for my license photo (Unsuccessful.) When the agent took my picture she glanced at the screen and kinda snorted before giving me the universal “Heh. Come here; you’re gonna love this” hand signal.

I turned the corner and was instantly stunned into paralysis, while the same brace-faced, clueless 13 year old girl I’d only just spoken to earlier today smiled back at me from the screen. (Apparently, they never discarded my photograph for official documentation purposes.) Her face, full of monobrowed, padded-headbanded glory and aching insecurity sat directly beside the image of my immediate Self, who appeared calm, suitably groomed and a bit more sure of herself than she actually is.

And for a moment, there at the Sanford DMV, it was just the two of them staring at me and the two of me staring back. And none of us knowing what it meant but all of us knowing that we understood.

Later, I asked my husband if it sounded crazy to wonder if my sentimental message of hope and love released into the Universe in hopes to reach 13 year old Me actually did have any sort of effect on how I was able to maintain a glimmer of hope in the times between 13 and 26 years old when there seemed not to be any left at all. He said it didn’t sound insane to him, but then, he’s used to obliging my Crazy - so long as it’s of the harmless variety - so I’m still a little leery.

Something about directly conjuring her image last night and admitting to myself that I did love her, I do love her, I always have loved her and writing it all down and sending that love and forgiveness and hope for her out into the Universe (via blogosphere) only to be directly confronted with her in the physical realm later that day in a completely unexpected situation that was just a random occurrence… her image taken at that exact, crucial age, during the Autumn, in a place I would never expected to encounter her again… It all just seems like a bit more than coincidence, given the specifics and the time frame.

I’d like to believe I received a “Thank you”, sent from a Self I was many years ago. Suddenly, I feel connected to this Self again with the realization that we’ve healed from each other. I’m not busy hating her and blaming her for her inevitable flaws because I see where this rugged, nearly insurmountable path has lead me, with her as my guide. And she doesn’t have any more pain from my abandoning and betraying of her at every opportunity I had, mostly because she sees how it is helping her grow, (even if it’s not her first choice method.)

Whatever insane, metaphysical energy shift that just happened, I do know that this tiny event/coincidence will warm my heart far longer than any other relationship’s resolution has.

I wonder what our reunion will look like when I am 39.

Dear 13 yr. old Self,

Hey! I was driving back from Raleigh to Sanford last night and listening to Nirvana and thought of you. Because it’s October and all the trees are changing colors, I remembered how much you liked the view from your bedroom window and I sort of wanted to join you there and scribble some more in that red plaid journal you keep in your bedside table.

Anyway, I thought that, because I’m twice as old as you are, I thought it’d be fitting to at least touch base with you where you are at that ever-so-pivotal and formative era and compare notes. (Oh, don’t get weary of hearing all about the elusive mystery of adolescence just yet because it honestly never ends. Seriously. Scores of people are obsessed with the “coming of age” years, even beyond John Hughes.) However, because we’ve both seen “Back to the Future” a million times, I’m sure you understand why I can’t start doling out advice or telling you how things are going to be 13 years down the road. Unlike when Doc came to tell Marty that his son was in trouble, I’m keeping my mouth shut because I’m rather pleased with the way things are in 2009 and I don’t want to say anything that might screw it all up. (I know! “2009″ sounds totally weird, right?)

Don’t get me wrong, though. There’s a massive pile of stuff I want to at least warn you about or try to advise you to do differently because, you know, experiencing heartrending pain isn’t fun. (You might’ve noticed.) It’s kind of like being a mother to a child and wanting that child to turn out to be really well-rounded and competent and socially adept and strong but knowing that she’s going to have to deal with and weather a lot of bullshit before she gets to that point. It’s all imperative to growth but it sucks to have to walk through together.

And that’s the point of me writing to you is to tell you that I’m here. I don’t mean to ostracize you or make you feel ignorant by saying, “You’ll understand this more when you get older” but I know you’re smart enough to get that I’m not intentionally being insulting. Please know that there’s nothing you’re feeling right now that I don’t fully understand. I get it. I’ve seen and remember all of it. I know the reasons you think you’re crappy and why you hate certain people and how you feel about certain things and I know that sort of omniscience from me is annoying but I just want you to know that I’m on board with all that. And I love you anyway.

No, I really do. And not in the way that mothers love their children because they have to or how people choose to love people because they’re settling. I really, honestly love you. And I think you’re pretty amazing, actually.

Yes, okay, you’re incredibly awkward-looking and you have no idea what you’re doing sartorially. (Those get better with time - the former slightly more than the latter - but just be thankful for that amazing rack you have. It’s pretty amazing for an 18 yr. old, let alone a 7th grader. And you didn’t have to pray a single day for it, right? Give thanks.) And, yes, you’re painfully insecure, which causes you to be horrible to people you feel threatened by. And you’re culturally inept and things with your parents have just started getting interesting and you’re often that weird girl who talks about sex or left-wing politics too much and you’re confined to those god-awful braces for another year and there hasn’t been a single male human who’s shown any interest in you since the 4th grade and you have to ride around in that giant bus your mom drives around and you have a deeper voice and more facial hair than anyone else in your class and you’re madly in love with someone who will never ever love you back and you only have enough money for a pair of Arizona jeans and some cK One knockoff fragrance for your autumn wardrobe… I get it. You’re tragically, unforgivably flawed and your first years as a pre-adult are not anywhere close to what you were hoping.

Let me clue you in on something that I don’t think will hurt your natural progression: Every single person your age feels exactly the same way you do. Every single one. Even those cocky douchebags who have throngs of girlfriends and torment you daily are freaking out on the inside about how tragically flawed they are, too. I swear. And here’s the real kicker, ready? This whole self-centered mentality is going to continue for at least another 4-6 years with those people you’re around. Seriously! I know you’re positive that all anyone’s thinking of is how much you suck every time you walk into a room and it’s easy to believe that when you’re constantly being reminded by idiots around you that they think you suck. Here’s the thing [that I'm hoping you'll believe because it's me you're talking to here instead of some adult who couldn't know what they're talking about because they don't know what it's like to be you]: everyone is so busy freaking out that everyone else is going to notice how much they suck that they try to hurl the negative attention onto someone else preemptively. And, because you’re the one who’s always had good grades and a loud mouth, you’re the top candidate at the moment. Apparently, you’re pretty intimidating. Good work! (If you want proof of this, wait until one of those little shitheads tries to embarrass you by loudly calling you a “dyke” again and then ask them how many times they’ve jerked off to two girls going at it. If you throw in a wink at the end, I guarantee they’ll have no immediate response.)

Just, above anything else, remember that those people who think that “these are the best years of your life” are the people who have done nothing exciting or of value since they were 18. And in Adult World [that lasts way longer than jr. & sr. high put together], those people suck.

I know. I know. It doesn’t matter who you’re hearing this stuff from; it can’t change how you actually feel about it and deal with it, even if the person telling you all this knows everysinglething about you. It’s cool. I’m not taking it personally.

I’ll spare you any more lectures and, no, I’m still not giving up any secrets. I will tell you that things get a little better for a while, then interesting and fun, then bad, then fun and bad with a little good, then kinda bad but you don’t really notice because you’re still having fun, then very very very dark and then awful and then completely intolerable (literally) and then, just when you’re positive it’s always going to be awful because it has been gradually so since right around now, it gets really unbelievably, incredibly, amazingly wonderful and it stays that way for longer than you can remember. I promise.

So that’s what you have to look forward to. And I wanted you to know so that, during these next 13 years, you’ll keep a glimmer of hope in your heart to keep yourself moving forward. I know you’ll disagree with me, but I believe you’re better than all that crap you’re grappling with right now and I know you’ll figure out how to get rid of it over time.

I do love you. And I think you’re exactly where and who you should be right now. Trust me on this one.

Much love and light,

Mrs.* Castallare

*

Dear Facebook Friends,

Look, I’m not trying to tell you how to run your profile or life in general, but I feel like there are a few social cues to which you’re just not savvy yet, that are really costing you some credibility points. And, since you’ve decided to make these sort of gestures in front of a rather large audience of people you actually know, I thought you may want to be made aware of what your actions are saying. Because I care about you and the public persona you seem to be unaware that you’re maintaining.

Just a couple things:

1) Changing your Relationship Status more than twice a month makes you look insane/unstable/desperate/sad.

We honestly don’t care what the reasoning is behind it, but if you go from “Married” to “Single” to “It’s Complicated” in the course of two weeks, you’re not only going to look unstable but increasingly desperate for attention with every status update. Why on earth would you want everyone you know that you and your significant other are in the middle of a love/hate battle that you can’t seem to walk away from long enough to catch your breath? The answer here is obvious with the amount of “Are you okaaaay?”s and “If you need to talk, I’m here”s that are routinely plastered all over your walls as you cycle through the relationship options. While these people may honestly care about you and your thread-dangling relationship, eventually they’re going to start seeing you as a clamoring charity case, if they haven’t already.

After a while, everyone’s going to start sympathizing with the other party, regardless of their relationship to you, much like if you’re the type to obsessively call an ex and then wonder why he/she’s not sprinting back to you. Dignity has a lot to do with attractiveness, you know. Unless you’re into dating people without standards.

Maybe you should consider saving yourself a little public humiliation for a change. Seriously. Breaking up with someone is hard enough (not to mention doing it three times a month) but broadcasting it to the world isn’t going to make it any better on your self-esteem. It’s really, truly not going to hurt any of us if we don’t know that you and this demon/saint you’re remaining in the vicinity of are taking yet another break for whatever reason. And maybe not announcing to the world that your relationship is in turmoil over and over would give you the self-respect to look at the whole thing objectively for a change.

If this applies to you, perhaps you should consider not publicly mentioning your relationship status unless there’s legal documentation to validate your claim. It’s really for your own good.

2) “It’s Complicated” doesn’t mean anything other than “Bad”*

I’m going to be frank here. Nobody, except for the very close friends that you’d still have if Facebook never existed, cares about your relationship’s backstory. Not anyone. And, again, why would you want to publicly advertise that shit’s going down in whatever makeshift relationship you have? All the options are pretty cut-and-dry, but if there’s not one that fits your immediate case YOU DO HAVE THE OPTION OF LEAVING IT BLANK.

This just goes back to self-respect, folks. The thing about “It’s Complicated” is that it really leaves the door wide open for assumptions. For example, if you’ve been married for a few years and now you’re suddenly in “It’s Complicated”ville, guess what? Now we’re all sitting around going, “Affair? Separation? Murder? Bestial Love Triangle?” which is honestly none of our business in the first place. HOWEVER, by you putting it out there, you’re inviting us to make it our business, get it? And, really, when it comes to people going a-Facebooking, there’s nothing but time for judgment and assumptions. I’d venture to say that’s about 65% of what makes it so much fun. (And if you’re of the “I don’t care what people think” variety, then why are you posting something so private as your relationship status at all?)

All we want, as friends-who-are-good-enough-for-Facebook-but-not-enough-to-confide-in-via-phone-or-email-or-actual-interaction, is for you to tell us when you’re “In a Relationship” and then give us a link to that person’s profile so we can immediately go over and judge them based on their appearance and Interests. That cannot be too much to ask.

Thank you for your time and consideration.

Gleefully “Married”,
Castallare

* Sincere thanks to the lovely and brilliant Ms. Jennifer Beane for mentioning this obvious truth and causing me to snort Juicy Juice through my nose while we were texting gossip back and forth for an hour.

The Update Blog Entry: It’s like Show-and-Tell for Grown-Ups!

~ I’ve had this independent blog for a year now. And I’ve been talking about customizing it from this boring, WordPress background/format for that whole year. It’s time to make that happen. I’m thinking something neo-boudoir-like (like my Twitter account wallpaper) although that’s terribly trendy for the moment and I don’t want to have to update it all the time as you see how well I’m doing with that in the first place.

~ I’ve been on this weird Warhol kick where I’m reading about all his crazy antics and all the people whose careers were launched just by being around him and I’m trying to decide whether or not I actually like him. (I think he’s one of those people I admire as a visionary and pioneer of popular culture but probably would’ve thought was a dick in real life, for the record.) In that vein, I think I’m going to start a series of Warhol-style screen tests and get my friends on board. Could be interesting to see how differently they turn out in today’s reality-show culture, versus what they were back in the 1960’s when pop voyeurism was completely revolutionary.

~ I also found this article about a man who took one Polaroid photo every day of his life. I think it’s fascinating. I’d like to make it a habit to do the same and see what I have in 5 years. Even if it turns out really poignant and significant or something unlikely like that, I’d never ever show it; that would just seem like I’m stomping all over someone else’s novel idea. Like splattering paint on canvas all Pollack-like and then trying to make some dough off it. Wrong.

~ I’ve kind of been suffering another wave of the “I’m not worthy!”s. I’m not going to wallow in or expound on it here (again) but the continued love and support I receive from my friends (and family) sometimes gets to be overwhelming in that I feel like I can never repay any of it adequately, nor have I ever done anything to deserve it. Although I am trying.

~ I swear I’m not going to turn this whole blog into a means to advertise for myself but, being that this is something kinda big I’ve undertaken, I thought it was relevant in sharing recent happenings and goings-on. Anyway, after a lot of consideration and research and a completely unsolicited recommendation by a friend who isn’t even associated with the business (and, therefore, wasn’t trying to recruit me for her own benefit) I took the plunge and signed on to be a Passion Parties consultant.

(If you don’t know, Passion Parties, Inc. is the leader in one of the many companies that sells romantic/sexual enhancements to women at small gatherings in the safety of their homes. The company was founded in 1994 by a woman who knew other women were curious in adult novelties but were often hesitant to go out in public to see what was on the market [in skeezy porn shops with leering men] and didn’t want to shop online because they were uneducated about what they were buying or wanted to see/sample the product before making a commitment. Needless to say, the company has been wildly successful and is the one most commonly seen in the mainstream media, like “Oprah and “Tyra” and “The Doctors”, etc. We don’t sell pornography or hardcore BDSM gear (a bummer for some of us), because the company is really all about giving women a comfortable place to explore their most common needs and interests. For the woman who is just beginning to figure out what she wants sexually - or even talk about it - anything crazier than stripper poles, double-sided dildos or strap-ons (which we sell!) might be overwhelming.)

I was turned on to the company because, while it’s a pyramid-scheme ultimately, it isn’t like Mary Kay where they’re constantly breathing down your neck to recruit people to work under you BECAUSE everyone makes 40% profit off everything we sell anyway. (So it isn’t imperative to get people on board in order to make money… that’s what I’m getting at here.) Also, the woman I work under (She lives in NJ, which they do so that teammates aren’t competing against each other.) is amazingly rad in that she’s letting me go at my own pace and isn’t one of those glassy-eyed corporation peddlers who’s all about working my ass off 24/7 and understands that I’m doing this as a side project and I have an actual life. Also, she’s not afraid to find a few harmless loopholes or ways to work the system to help herself out and I like that a lot. She’s shown me how to get credit card machines for cheaper than PPI sells/rents them, where to get supercheap marketing materials, and even gave me permission to keep selling my Yum in the Tub Scrub while at parties I throw (I sell literally the exact same thing we sell at Passion Parties but for 1/6 of the price. And in prettier packaging.) which is a bit of a conflict of interest. Plus she’s a no-bullshit type of gal. I like that.

Oh! And other Big Perk of the New Job! I get to have conference calls with Sue Johansen! She does them once a month for consultants! Whee!

So anyway, I sent off my quite reasonable start-up cost for my display/tester kit, (They give you a bunch of options on that one, which is nice, but the $100 one doesn’t have any toys so what’s the point? Who wants to go to a party to look at a bunch of cremes? I got the $250 kit that has over $800 worth of products! And I get to test everything but the toys! Whee!) had Greg design me some custom business cards/car magnets/address labels, bought myself a URL for my free company website (ThePassionateMinx.com and set to work planning parties and quizzing myself on our products.

WARNING: This next part may read like I’m trying to sell you on stuff. It’s really not and I don’t care if you never buy from me ever. We’re still friends.

I’ve gotta be honest, while I know Passion Parties is one of the better companies to buy from, I was honestly counting on my inventory to have about 5-10 “best sellers” that the company relied on and then everything else just sort of being mediocre. Specifically, after trying at least a dozen women-friendly stimulant cremes, I’d pretty much decided that those were bogus and would only result in making my groin temporarily chilly and then pin-prickly. Needless to say, I was very pleasantly surprised to find that I genuinely love about 90% of our merchandise so much that I’m probably going to own all of it within a year. (The other 10% is all lotions and stuff that, while nice in fragrance and consistency, I’m not really a fan of in the first place and kind of think I’ll save my money for some Jergens.)

WARNING: This next part is particularly sales-pitchy.

The aforementioned creme is the Pure Satisfaction UniSEX Enhancement Gel which - I’m not making this up - the scientists who developed the active chemical combination in it WON A NOBEL PRIZE FOR in 1998. (”Marcy! My son just won a Nobel Prize!” “Oh, Jan, that’s amazing! What did he win it for?” “Um. For creating a serum that makes women have massive orgasms.” “… So, is he seeing anyone?”) Also, they’ve created the Pure Satisfaction G-Spot Creme that does the same thing but on the g-spot (and that we’re having a special on this month! You can buy it with a whole extra vibrator for just 50 cents extra! I’m sorry.. I’m done.) and, if you use the two together HOLYMOSESPARTINGSEAS. I’ve always had problems with G-spot-related activity, but when I tried the two while using “Da Bomb” (I didn’t use my demo one…) I literally passed out for an hour or so afterward and woke up with the vibrator still running. (I’m sorry if any of my family members are reading this. I would think the context of the conversation would’ve run you off by now anyway.) My sponsor told me of a woman who had had a botched episiotomy that left her with no feeling in her groin for about 4 years, causing some sexual frustration with her and her spouse. My sponsor let her sample the Enhancement Gel liberally at a party and the woman called the next morning to order 3 bottles.

So, yes, I believe in our products. Whole heartedly. Which is really really nice because I’ve worked for companies where I’m selling shit that I loathe and I constantly feel like I’m duping these perfectly nice people into wasting money and perpetuating our economic crisis. We’re female-centric but we do have a lot of male-friendly products, too, like the Gigi (a very texturally lifelike masturbation tool) and a hollow strap-on.

I’m planning on sending out info packets to local sororities in the area (one of my teammates did $2,200 in sales last weekend at a sorority house party) and maybe trying to appeal to the lesbian market as well because I kind of get the feeling that PPI hasn’t taken a lot of time to think about them at all, in favor of saving marriages.

So yeah. That’s what’s going on.

~ (sorta related) Greg has never been the type to downplay my dreams and goals but I was genuinely amazed at how quickly he hopped on board with this new business venture. I’d prepared a speech and a bulleted list of reasons I wanted to try this out and before I even got to my second sentence, he interrupted with “YES. I think you’d be great at it and I’ll do anything I can to help you get this off the ground.” It was incredible. He fronted the overhead costs, designed my marketing supplies, watched Chloe while I went through my materials and sat on conference calls with my sponsor for training purposes. He’s been really amazing about all this and it gives me even more motivation to do well so I’m not letting him down.

Additionally, my family is on board and supportive too which is fantastic. I’m not surprised that my sisters are cool with it but I was a bit more than surprised that my parents weren’t mortified. My mom didn’t actually want to discuss my merchandise or really the fact that I was in this particular market, but my dad was willing to discuss it openly and positively and even acknowledged that I’m educated and comfortable enough with sexuality in general that I’d be great at it. I was flattered in a really strange way. (I think that’s maybe the ONLY way discussing one’s sexuality with your father is healthy.) And then my friends are generally great anyway, so it was nice to be able to call them and tell them what I’m doing and knowing that they’d be psyched for me. Of course, the outstanding inclusion to that category is my friend Martha, who, after I had only said, “Hey, I just signed on as a Passion Parties consultant…” immediately said, “Oh my god! Can we do a party together?!” She rocks so very. Very. Very hard.

Anyway, I’m hoping this will be a means for saving money so I can go back to school in addition to getting ourselves out of the small amount of debt we’ve built in the last couple years. (Thank God it’s not nearly as bad as that of other kids our age. We’ve had a lot of luck and/or blessings.) I want this job to be something I can do a couple nights a week at most while spending time with Chloe and Greg during the day and later, attending school and working more on building a writing portfolio. Again, I’m so excited that my sponsor is cool with this and isn’t expecting me to work to be one of those consultants who climbs the ladder and makes $100,000 her first year.

(And now in unrelated news. Finally, right?)

~ Because of a heap of scheduling conflicts, I chose to withdraw myself from the Christmas show I was cast in. Initially I was really really disappointed because I haven’t done a show in years and I really miss acting (even though my actual skills there are mediocre at best. This isn’t up for debate.) and I really wanted to be in a Dickensonian Caroling Quartet, which I was cast in, but then I realized that I was committing every hour Greg was at home during 6 days out of the week (5-9 Mon-Fri, Noon-9 on Saturdays) for the two busiest, most family-centric time of year, all for a part with two lines and 30% stage time. Not that I’d give up being around my family during the holidays for a leading part with huge pay, but it certainly would’ve been more persuading.

This being said, I’m still on board for “South Pacific” next spring. And I’m pumped.

This week, someone I care about very very much told me that I was very “driven.” It was just casually mentioned in a sentence, like this person was just saying something that everyone already knew and didn’t stop to really think about as being an inherent trait of mine.

That’s the first time anyone’s called me that (maybe even thought of me like that) since I was in the 8th grade.

I tried not to laugh. I really did.

I hate Adam Levine. Not because I loathe his music (although I do) or I think his band is overrated (again, I do), but because that sonofabitch has looked dead into the eye of an interviewer and, without so much as a hint of irony, stated, “I believe Maroon 5 is the greatest band in the world.” And instead of being laughed out of the industry, he turned around and had even more millions of fans support such a ridiculous statement that completely validated this delusion that he happily resides within and effing profits from. What a jackass.

But honestly, I kind of want that. I want to be so full of myself and so fully subscribed to this delusional myth of myself that I just hurl myself forward, so convinced of my own greatness that I just arrogantly laugh at those who would dare to question me. And I want to be able to do all this and actually be successful solely because of it.

That’s the thing. We all know those completely delusional people who believe themselves to be brilliantly talented musicians or actors or whatever who are simply audacious in their grandeur self-proclamations of greatness who, really, aren’t that good. They may be “talented” in that they can play an instrument or recite lines, but they aren’t actually creating anything new and different that would render them an “artist”. Nevertheless, they plow forward with their juvenile, inflated sense of their own self importance, brushing off those of us who think they’re insane and pompous and holding themselves with what can never be confused with simple humble confidence. It’s gross.

But the woooorst part is when those idiots go on and somehow become wildly successful and have all these legions of people who stand behind them and go “Yes! Yes you ARE the greatest artist/architect/singer/model this world has ever seen!” and, thus, they find vindication for their mentality and success. And, because art is totally subjective, who am I to argue with the bazillions of fans who are busy convincing Adam Levine or Avril Lavigne (heh, they rhyme) or Nickelback or Creed or Limp Biskit or Amy Poehler or Slipknot or Flo Rida or Scarlett Johansson or Kid Rock or Jimmy Fallon that all their arrogance wasn’t for naught? These people, in all their egomaniacal bliss, have been given exactly what they wanted, all from being delusional.

And, even though it’s really annoying to be around one of those types of pretentious douchenozzles, there’s a part of me that really really wants their ability. I want the ability to convince myself that I’m undeniably awesome and that everyone who thinks otherwise is just socially, intellectually stunted and “One day they’ll see! One day they’ll appreciate me for the great forward-thinking genius I really am!” and just plow forward in my convictions. And even if I never find success with my apparent genius, then I will live happily in the assumption that I’m a real bohemian who is before my time and will only be revered in my postmortem career.

God, wouldn’t that be nice? Just to eliminate all that doubt and fear with a genuine sense of insane arrogance? It would get rid of all that time I waste on hesitation and kicking myself when I get rejected and really just pave new paths for me. I mean, even if people effing hate being around me and my Kanye-esque mentality (not behavior) there are bound to be sheeplike people who will totally buy whatever I’m saying and believing because that’s just what people do when there’s someone out there who’s completely convinced of their own awesomeness, even if that idol has no effing idea what they’re doing. (Oprah, anyone?) And with that diva-like (HAAATE that word) egomania, I’ll become this great self-fulfilling prophesy, able to convince others that they SHOULD think I’m awesome or else they’re just a bunch of morons with no taste. What an incredible trait/ability/feat.

The problem with that is that it’d be a lie for me and I’d feel like I was playing a part. I know I’d constantly be going “Why are these people listening to me? Do they have no minds from which to draw their own conclusions?” and then I’d start resenting my fans for being sheep… but not as much as I’d hate myself for feeling like my entire professional persona is just a big lie that doesn’t represent who I really am, and what kind of life is that?

So, I’ll keep trudging along in this hyper-self-conscious/aware creative process I’ve set out for myself and I’ll continue to spend weeks talking myself into submitting work that my friends have told me is really pretty good. Because at least that’s who I am and how I feel most comfortable functioning. At least from that point I can write from some sense of genuine self-actualization without having to create some self-inflated alter ego to speak for me.

I dunno, maybe I’ll at least make an effort to not immediately assume those who give me positive feedback are just being nice or have no idea what they’re talking about…
Baby steps.

Since I entered and graduated college, it has come to my attention that I’m a bit of a literary idiot. An avid reader since kindergarten (Me ‘n my bestie read more books than anyone in my class and so my teacher took us out for McDonald’s and a movie but when “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids” wasn’t playing in my hometown, she took us to see “Weekend at Bernie’s”. Not kidding.) I’ve always been an overachiever in my own pleasure reading - I was always “that kid” who’d read all of my summer reading requirements by July. But, it’s come to my attention that I’ve read maybe 1/3 of what’s considered imperative for a normal graduate of the American public school system and maybe 1/5 of what is expected of a friggin’ English major. (This inevitably had a lot to do with the fact that my last two years of high school were spent at an institution that hardly noticed I was never there and didn’t really assign us anything useful to begin with.) Naturally, within the company I adopted while earning an English degree, my literary ignorance was punctuated and I often felt myself asking, “Um, why haven’t I read any Faulkner/Poe/Huxley/Friedan/Vonnegut/Emerson/Whitman/Sarte/Voltaire/Heller yet?” and then immediately feeling like an idiot for it. The problem was that, while in undergrad I was busy reading 15-ish books for my literature classes anyway (which I LOVED) so I didn’t really have time to stay going after these others that had somehow slipped by me. Now, with a library 3 miles from my home, I feel like I have the perfect opportunity to delve into the classics I desperately need to expose myself to. True, I don’t have a lot of spare time, but I do read for about an hour before I go to sleep every night and I think that if I really focus on this little side project, I can knock out a handful of essentials. At the casual pace I set for myself, I usually knock out 20-ish books a year but I’m thinking I might set a goal for myself from now until 2011… And yes, I’m fully aware this makes me a giant post-grad English nerd. I just don’t want to look/sound like a moron anymore when my peers are making literary references and I’m just staring blankly at nothing in particular. (Not that I feel like I’ve been selling myself short by reading a crapload of Christopher Moore and Tom Robbins and Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Sedaris and Eggers and Crosley and Palahniuk and Klosterman, by the way. They’re the neo-canon as far as I’m concerned… well, except when Eggers tries fiction. What a snooze.)

So here’s the tentative list I’d like to valiantly attempt to conquer by 2011. I’m going to be working to get myself back into school during that time so I won’t have any homework getting in the way of this just yet. I also kinda thought about doing a separate blog on this kinda like that woman who cooked a Julia Child recipe every day for a year that became a book and then a movie, but I thought that would appeal to no one, so I’m skipping that ridiculous endeavor and just working on the self-improvement aspect of exposing myself to a crapload of important literature.

If you have any suggestions/recommendations/reminders of what I may have forgotten, let me know. Again, this is just a starting point:

At the moment I’m reading “A Light in August” by Will Faulkner.
Next up is “Leaves of Grass” by Whitman.
(I was reminded of my desire to read this by that new Levi’s commerical that recites “Pioneers, O Pioneers.” Although pretentious with all the models and such, I actually think the commercial is beautiful and a great way to bring classic poetry into mainstream.)
And I’ve been working on “Bonfire of the Vanities” by Wolfe for a while but I cannot get into it. I’ll keep trying.
Next up is Voltaire’s “Candide”
and then “Anna Karenina” which I’ve had staring at me from my shelf for literally 5 years now
and then Vonnegut’s “Cat’s Cradle”
Friedan’s “Feminine Mystique”
“As I Lay Dying” and “The Sound and the Fury” ~ Faulkner
“Notes from Underground” - Dostoevsky
“Song of Myself” ~ Whitman
“Cyrano de Bergerac” ~ Rostand
“Moby Dick” ~ Melville (I know, it’s a crying shame I haven’t read that one.)
“Nausea” - Sarte
“Portrait of a Lady” ~ James
“Scenes of Bohemian Life” ~ Murger
“Justine, Philosophy in the Bedroom” and “Letters from Prison” ~Marquis de Sade
“Brave New World” - Huxley (aaaanother shame)
“Uncle Tom’s Cabin” ~ Stowe
“Old Man and the Sea” ~ Hemingway (I’ve been to the man’s house so I feel I owe him another chance after “Farewell to Arms” which I loathed.)
“Fall of the House of Usher” ~ Poe
“Three Lives” and “Tender Buttons” ~ Stein
“Catch-22″ - Heller
“Call of the Wild” ~ London (I know… I’m a damned shame…)
“The Complete Works of Emerson and Thoreau” ~ Um.. Emerson and Thoreau
“The Second Sex” ~ de Beauvoir
“The Life you Save may be Your Own” ~ Elie
“Middlemarch” ~ Eliot
“Tess of the Turbevilles” ~ Hardy
“Watership Down” ~ Adams
“Pillars of the Earth” ~ Follett
“Grapes of Wrath” ~ Steinbeck
“Tale of Two Cities” ~ Dickens
“Midnight’s Children” ~ Rushdie
“Breakfast of Champions” ~ Vonnegut
“Of Mice and Men” ~ Steinbeck
“Flowers of Evil” ~Baudelaire
“All Quiet on the Western Front” ~ Remarque
“Ulysses” ~ Joyce (another shame)
“Jane Eyre” ~ Bronte (I know.. shameful)
“Lady Chatterly’s Lover” ~ D.H. Lawrence
“Tropic of Cancer” ~ Miller
“The Reef” and/or “Ethan Frome” ~ Wharton (LOVED “House of Mirth”… not so much “Age of Innocence”)
“The Venus Firs” ~ Sacher-Masoch
“Junky” “Naked Lunch” and “Queer” ~ Burroughs
“Fear and Loathing…” ~ Thompson
“Howl & Other Poems” ~ Ginsberg
and the Narrative of Douglass

Various stuff by Sandburg (I’ve been to his house!) and Wordsworth and O’Connor and Pound and Frost and Franklin and Ibsen and Carver and Welty and Emily Dickenson, too. Of course, if I take a liking to one of these guys/gals, I may stay there for a while (there’s a lot of Melville I have to cover.) but if something sucks halfway through then I’m not waiting until the end for it to get better like I did with “Red Badge of Courage” and countless other pointless “classics.” And I’m going to try to get into some philosophy/political writings while I’m there: Rousseau, Diderot, Boccaccio, Plato, Descartes, Wollstonecraft (I did read some Plato and Socrates in my rhetoric classes but it’s all gone out the window since then. As far as I’m concerned “logos” is that amazing gay channel between Showtime and HBO”) I’m also going to make it a point to do at least a little brief reading about the author so I have some frame of reference to draw from while I’m reading. I don’t think there’s anyone less educated about who came from what era and what part of the globe than I when it comes to literary figures. (Poe was from the 60’s, right? Or no! He was 1890’s Bohemia. duh…)

…And maybe I’ll sneak in Klosterman’s “Fargo, Rock City“… I’ve been meaning to get to that one for a while.

Crap. Maybe I should give myself until 2012.

(I actually loathe that song but I’m short on time and creativity for a witty, related entry title.)

TASKS COMPLETED SO FAR THIS WEEK
* Tried this public theology thing again
* Spent [the boring] half of worship service trying to get the Bear to stop screaming in terror at being left in the nursery.
* Sent letter to minister Re: his need to perpetuate the myth that women are frigid, manipulative nuns and are the exclusive reason husbands deal with sexual frustration.
* Plan to return to community church again next week.
* Wrote press release and press kit for SC CARES. as an ad hoc PR guy.
* Called and updated owner/manager of SC-CARES to let her know I hadn’t forgotten about her.
* Set up official “Consultant” status with Passion Parties, Inc.
* Set up personal, company-based Passion Parties webstore
(User-friendly URL to be purchased and released after this weekend.)
* Set up business email.
* Set up presence on business message board.
* Read a million different materials about starting up my personal business chapter.
* “Attended” business-related conference call.
* Shopped extensively for tantalizing-yet-tasteful marketing materials (business cards, etc.) to no avail.
* Sent a sample of my favorite marketing image to about 10 friends, asking if it would look like I was running an escort service instead of a sex-toy distribution service.
* Received emails pretty much saying, “It’s a hot image but yeah, in Smalltown USA, you’re going to be known as ‘The Lady Pimp’ if you hand those out.”
* Assembled press kits and addressed them to some 20-ish media sources.
* Purchased Tinkerbell costume for the Bear’s Halloween.
* Sent a friend a kind, unsolicited package because I’m a nice effing person, dammit.
* Wrote and sent sponsored Peruvian child a “hello!” letter.
* Deposited a check wearing only men’s boxers and a wifebeater.
* Implemented Phase 2 of my Great Snail-Mail-Based Prank on one unsuspecting friend.
* Relayed messages between my old volleyball coach and my former teammates about the time and date of the Homecoming Alumnae Volleyball Game this Friday.
* Then relayed more messages about everyone’s t-shirt sizes.
* Then laughed with other alums who were frustrated because we never actually hear about any of this stuff unless one of our parents runs into one of our former faculty.
* Then realized that there’s a reason I haven’t voluntarily made it back to any high school functions, nor have I sought out any info about them.
* Updated and added editorials to various ongoing freelance gig websites.
* Sent invoice to said gigs.
* Realized the Bear has outgrown this diaper size after cleaning up 3 overflows in 3 days.
* Acquired “training potty” for the Bear and got into a tussle when she wouldn’t stop sitting on it - bare-assed - after 30 minutes.
* Three loads of laundry
* Two piles of dishes
* A partridge in a pear tree.

STILL TO DO THIS WEEK
* Send press kits. FINALLY.
* Restock the fridge.
* Sign contract at local theatre for December employment.
* Purchase URL for Passion Parties webstore.
* Return eight or nine phone calls.
* Upload personalized design to VistaPrint and order marketing materials.
* Make dinner for old college buddy’s Stone Soup dinner on Thursday
* Drive to Greensboro for old college buddy’s Stone Soup dinner on Thursday.
* Drive to Myrtle Beach Friday morning.
* Play in high school Alumnae Volleyball Game Friday evening. (Try not to look incompetent.)
* Attend first Homecoming football game ever. (Try to avoid people who made me contemplate homicide some 8 years ago.)
* Return on Saturday and send invitations for first Party on 18th.
* Call Blair and figure out when she’s moving to town.
* Write final “exam” piece for Second City writing class.
* Apply for credit card machine.
* Get something for the couple whose wedding we’re attending next week.
* Write my penpal (it’s long long overdue.)
* Compile package contents for my Great October Gift Exchange recipient.
* Start memorizing/learning merch, pricing and policies.
* Stave off the desire to resume my long-dormant smoking and/or drinking addictions.
* Write a blog post honestly happily discussing these newest happenings in my life and how I hope they’ll help me start working toward some of my bigger goals (going back to school, starting a small sugar scrub business, etc.)
* Bathe

To be fair, I did say that I was tired of being bored while stuck in the house with the Bear all day every day.

Honestly?

I don’t even know anymore.*

*Not that I really did, although I was convinced that I did up until about six or seven years ago. But now I’m certain that I don’t. And I don’t know where to start or if it’s even worth starting and it’s not bad and it’s not good and what it all boils down to is that I’m a giant wuss and no amount of begging the Universe for a pair of white-gold-dipped balls is actually changing that at the moment and that’s frustrating on top of everything else slowly stacking itself on each other. So, even though there’s a lot going on, there’s really nothing happening.
Because of me.
Being chickenshit.
And then hating it.
And then hating myself for hating it.

… And I’m tired. I think tired is coming in at a close second. Like, really long-term, weary, worn-out tired. It’s like I’ve spent since I was 13 overanalyzing and oversentimentalizing everything and then I ramped that up in the last few years with the mental workout of recovery and now something in my brain just finally powered down and now I don’t want to do any of it which doesn’t really help me because I’m pretty lazy when it comes right down to it but I kinda felt productive in my inactivity before now because at least I was dissecting and understanding everything but now that I’m not even doing that I’m really just not doing anything at all.

I really miss being able to blame my ineptitude on being completely out of my mind.