Mid way there.

By far 2012 was full of cliched mainstream check marks and a mixed bag of half cookies. I proved again that I could fertilize and reproduce giving birth to a healthy, baby boy. I am now officially suburban momzilla for 2. This will mean balancing more balls in the air. I can take that on. But I also realized that I am mid way there and I am lost. My GPS stopped working at the last turn and now I don't quite know if I have arrived or have a long way to go. Sigh.
I started my book and that was not easy. Building characters, living in them, plot twists. But I also realized I loved it. I wonder what it feels like to earn a living doing what you enjoy. I may never know that and that makes me wistful.
I didn't finish my book but I know I will someday. I also paused to rethink relationships. Yes, that big word. I still don't know. They never quite are easy.
What now will this new year bring?

Character Desire

I had attended this abbreviated course on character development this past year.You know, the 6 week course in 3 hours. one that makes your head reel like a drunk yo -yo at the end of it.Humans crave for flawed characters in novels, the petite brunette authoress had crooned. So , make them masturbate after killing the neighborhood cat.
That got me thinking. The flawed characters that surround me would never masturbate after killing the cat , probably while doing it . Such angst, nervousness, insecurity, direness, self pity and viciousness can never be imagined . I am surrounded by colorful sadism. One that makes my muse prematurely ejaculate .

But my papers are blank.

Of Trite Platitudes

And here I am , wifty little tyrant, capturing my nebulous thoughts as they run asunder, to string together my second attempt at completing my book.For that, one knows, one needs classes.Spend more money to feel content that one has made another woeful (but winsome)attempt to be a writer. Writer I will be . Author maybe not. I lugged the other half & the little quarter to foggy yonder-lands (because I cannot parallel park)so I could (yet again!)attend another course on creativity. Listen to Beethoven , she noted in an off key voice, to the same set of characters who nibbled at their blank notepads and wished for their muse to stop this prolonged jerking off. Great Artists provide inspiration. Surround yourself with them. Yes indeed , they do if you can understand them. How many times (I counted meaninglessly) have I stood in front a painting and waited for some deeper meaning to make its presence. The language of creativity may be universal but understanding it , is definitely not. Fat,little,thoughts danced to the notes on the worn out table while it hit its crescendo warily. Watching them loathe me, i sighed, writer i will be. Author maybe not.