Over It Monday, May 21 2007

“Yeah, I have a response. Uh, what?”

These were my exact Geico-style words, OUTLOUD, several times, while reading blogs today. There are about 40 or so blogs I keep up with on a daily basis because at one time or another I thought they were somehow clever. But man, they are really going downhill. Aside from the general annoyance of people updating only once every 300 years, some of them are going way off the deep end attempting to be philosophical. “Wherefore hence do I experience such exponential anguish fashioned by unprecedented aficionados of mine own heart.” Ok, I get it, your ex-boyfriend pissed you off. STOP TRYING SO HARD!! I know, I know – LuckyRenee often gets unnecessarily complex or vague and awkwardly attempts to be profound. But I hope you never have to re-read an entry 30 times only to realize I’m not saying anything significant anyway. Even the comments on these sites are getting a little out of control.

Someone suggest a blog to me that is fresh, updated often, and relates something interesting in a clear and clever manner. I’m losing my faith in the community.

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Jeremy’s Mind (and Mine) Saturday, May 19 2007

Everyone else looks at this picture and is astonished by such a cluttered mind. I look at it and think, “That’s what’s going on in MY head.” A thousand thoughts and a million ways to express each brainstorm. An eternity of things I want to accomplish in this exact instant. This isn’t chaotic addiction. It’s simply the way a creative mind works.

You scribble note after post-it note, desperately trying to hold onto the inspiration. You conceive dream after impossible dream, frantic to find one other person who thinks you can achieve. You create haikus in the shower, only to lose them the second you dry off, and write speeches in your waking hours, only to forget them the moment you grasp a pen and paper.

The remedy is as simple as it is complicated, as obvious as it is obscure: one idea at a time. Knowing, of course, that you will never complete every thought nor follow through with every scheme. You can never catch up with your post-its, but you will be content to spend your life trying. It’s overwhelming, but it’s all you know.

Nietzsche said, “You need chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star.” Don’t reject the commotion, the disarray, the turmoil. Embrace it.

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The UBA (Ultimate Blogging Advocate) Sunday, Apr 29 2007

It is not a bad idea to get in the habit of writing down one’s thoughts. It saves one having to bother anyone else with them. - Isabel Colegate

I am the ultimate blogging advocate. I plead for everyone, anyone to start a blog. This obsession has recently manifested itself in the form of coffee shop meetings with various friends where we sit down and get their blog rolling. I demand they come with at least one post to start them off, but the real challenge – the thing that turns a half hour setup to a two coffee extravaganza – is the naming of the blog. We scour through quotes and phrases and words and everything ever before they settle on a two to three word phrase that they can be happy with. This, of course, makes me happy as a clam that 3 years ago “Lucky Renee” popped into my mind and off I went. Then again, I’ve never had a problem naming blogs. I’ve had poetry blogs and blogs created for specific communities and blogs that were only one entry then deleted and everything in between, and the names always just seem to keep coming. The key is listening to what their blog will mean to them, then pointing out words that may get them there. Of course, in the end, it’s never a phrase I suggest, but something they conceive. That’s when the magic really begins.

Be sure to check out LuckyRenee’s Blog Spotlight. As these fabulous writers grow, I’ll be featuring them with the utmost pride.

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On Being A Writer Saturday, Apr 21 2007

I always wanted to be passionate about something that coincidentally made me beautiful or unique in an obvious way. Like soccer players. All they care about is soccer and it’s just a gorgeous fluke of luck that it also makes them have tight abs and the ability to run 10 miles without becoming short of breath. Artists (that is, sketchers and painters) are the same way. Their clothes are inventive and their hands are always smudged with charcoal or acrylic paint and they are somehow more beautiful. “This is my girlfriend,” their significant others say. “Can’t you see how her inner passion makes her noticeably lovely?”

I’m a writer. There is nothing glamorous or striking about being a writer. It’s all inward. I can attempt brilliance sitting alone at my computer with a slice of cheese pizza in my hand. My hair is one solid color (brown, not peculiar pink or unusual orange) and I choose clothes largely based on comfort. I’m not svelte or tall or lean.

I wish my passion required a strict diet of lettuce and orange juice. I wish I wanted to run everyday and that my arms were as toned as Sarah Jessica Parker’s. Sometimes I wish I ordered my mocha with low-fat milk and politely passed when my friends ordered Taco Bell. But I don’t. Running clears my head, you know, just like writing does, though in a somehow more organic way. If I ran, I’d have nothing to write about, because when I returned all sweaty and skinny, I’d just pass out in my bed and not have a thing in the world to bitch about or comment on. Except maybe how I’d just run 20 miles for fun and DAMN I feel good, but no one wants to read that. I don’t even want to write that.

But alas, I don’t run. I don’t diet. And I can’t paint for shit. I guess I’m stuck being cursed with a passion for prose. God save my soul.

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