Archive for March, 2012

I know them, but they are not me. There are people who can not stand to be alone with their thoughts ever. They are the ones who are always living with a roommate, have lots of friends around all the time, are extremely social, and if they are alone, they’re reaching out remotely via text, email, phone call, carrier pigeon, etc. These are the people that “social networking” was created for.

Sometimes, I envy them. It must be nice to be able to make connections so easily, to be so free with yourself to others. I, however, can’t live like that. I need my space.

I love going for walks. I have the privilege to do that where I live.  There are trails everywhere, and many quiet, country dirt roads. I actually consider myself lucky when I can go for miles and not run into another person.

Sometimes, I think that sounds selfish. Maybe it is. I’m suppose to be a member of society, provide input, engage in dialogue for the common good. I’m suppose to voice my beliefs, be a part of the solution, do my part. I’m suppose to provide comfort, counsel, support, and love to my fellow man. In small, inconspicuous ways, I try, but it’s not something that comes naturally to me. I have a very tight web of people that get my genuine company, like it or not, and that’s usually about it.

Everyone else, well, they get the friendly but guarded version. And, whether I want to admit it or not, I need them. In order to make a living, put food on the table, and stay in good graces with my husband and the IRS, I need them to read my books and make a social connection with me, at least on an abstract level through my characters. If that’s how I connect, so be it.

Yah…after my scary, um, migraine post, I thought it would be a good idea to go back to posting about writing. My sincerest apologies to the men out there and all that “lady stuff talk”, as well as to the spammers who are going to pick up “balls” mentioned numerous times on their SEO engine and think this is a WHOLE different kind of a blog.

So, yah, writing… when I first started writing compulsively, I did it in a spiral notebook, mostly because my husband stays up late, and it allowed me to write in bed alone and just hide it away. At that time, the only person I was sharing my work with was my wonderful friend, Amy, who emailed me the post from the inspirational speaker about, well, sharing my crazy dreams(see How I Got Here, Part 2). That was four years ago. I still write fairly frequently in a spiral notebook.

I have been asked numerous times why, in this digital age when I  have so many tools for dictation at my fingertips, I would bother with something as pedestrian as a 4th grader’s way of keeping their newly learned cursive in between the lines. Here are my reasons:

-Extremely cheap. A seventy-page, or one subject, spiral notebook should run you about a buck-fifty if you pick it up at the local drug or grocery store with your other odd items. That works in conveniently with my LCS. At one point I was writing  spec scripts, pilot scripts, and my novel all at the same time. I color-coordinated the covers for each one, and it was still less than five bucks.

-Sorry Edison, no electricity required. There are no batteries that die in a spiral notebook. There’s no back-light or e-ink to wash away when I forget to plug it in. There’s no plug in, no cord to trip over, no adapter to forget somewhere.

-The only processor I have to worry about is in my head. That’s right, no RAM to upgrade, no hard drive to crash, no infections to catch, no losing anything because I forgot to SAVE. I can leave a notebook thrown on the floor in the back of my pick-up for a couple of seasons, getting squished, trampled on and covered in God-knows what, and I can still pick it up and go, “Oh, yeah, I was going to do that spec for “The Mentalist”, and start reading (it actually wasn’t too bad. Still almost relevant). If I have the stomach for it, I can wipe it down and use the rest of that spiral notebook.

Last time I checked, it’s still called “writing.” I’m an artist at heart. The act of creating something visual is a personal and sacred thing to me. In my head, I’m probably still that 4th grader trying to keep my cursive in between the lines. An empty notebook is actually kind of exciting. Just imagine what I can put there.

I have gotten migraines…every single month without fail…since I was seventeen years old. If you’ve never had a migraine, you are the luckiest person on God’s green earth in my opinion. They suck. They suck hard. When they throb behind your eyeball insistently for hours on end, they suck giant, hairy donkey balls.

Over the counter meds just take the edge off for a short time. Prescription meds come with so many side effects, they make the migraine seem almost tolerable. I’m considering other avenues as I get older and braver. Pot works for glaucoma and chemo, right? The friend who comes to fold my bulletins at the church where I work sees an acupuncturist for her arthritis. I wonder how that would go? Would I look like that scary creature from “Hell Raiser?”

If the “every month” description wasn’t obvious enough for you, I get the migraines because, well, I’m a woman. It comes with all the other wonders of being a woman, like cramps, bloating, spontaneous acne, mood swings like a meth-addled spider monkey, and, of course, the “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” in my pants( or Scream, or Nightmare on Elm Street, or Saw…Put your favorite gory, bloody movie here). All those things have their own level of suckiness, but they pale in comparison to the migraine.

Not only does my head hurt, usually behind the eyeball, but light and sound exacerbate the pain, and just in case that wasn’t enough, when it gets bad, it starts to make me feel nauseous too. Usually, it mercifully occurs in the evening, and I can just go to bed and wait (unless I’m working nights, then out come the donkey balls). On extra special months, I’ll get up to three in a row. Sometimes they wait until all the other crap is over and done, so nothing steals their thunder.

I can be anthropomorphic with my migraine because it honestly feels like a demon that plagues my brain. If only that were really true. Then I could just get a good ol’ exorcism and be done with it. “The Power of Christ commands you!” (God that was a scary movie!). Lobotomy’s are bad, right?

I’ve been told my type of migraine (I’m not using the “M” or the “P” word, and you can’t make me) is caused by the increase, and then swift decrease, in estrogen, doing something screwy with brain chemicals. That’s why the MAOI drugs don’t work. “All you can do is mask the symptoms.” and “take more Excedrine.”

Or pull out all the lady parts? It’s not like anyone can see them. Who would notice? Don’t mind me. I’m just babbling because my head hurts so f%#cking much!