Exercising the Writing Muscle: Stretch & Flex

I don’t often have time in my work schedule to sit, check Facebook, post on Twitter, watch Law and Order marathons, write and reflect. If I did, I would probably be a danger to myself. But today, oddly, I do. And as a motivation, I stopped in my local B&N for an hour’s time dedicated to writing. Yes, it’s true I spent a considerable amount of that time responding to work emails, but here I am, half an hour into some creative me time, actually writing. Success!

There’s something so appealing about people watching in NYC. I sit here and look around. Straight in front of me is a woman bent down, a hair away from the little green table, calligraphy pen in hand, looking at a book on calligraphy. Next to her is another woman who is voraciously eating a cup of pomegranate seeds, bright red nail polish matching the succulent seeds she is shoveling in her mouth. She’s writing cards she’s probably purchased on the ground floor. They are black with writing in white and the envelopes are bright green. There’s some weird matching thing going on with her. Occasionally, she stops chewing and writing and she glances at her smart phone for, presumably, addresses or texts or tweets.

Next to her is yet another woman, all in purple (yes, even the nail polish and sunglasses on her head). She is reading intently and seems completely oblivious to the environmental din that surrounds us. Diagonally across from me are three young men with laptops; my best guess is they are a study group. Then again, they might be the next smart tech creators and candidates for a meeting with Patty Stanger and the Millionaire Matchmaker Club.

In a far corner is a man that seems to have stepped out of a taping Behind the Music. He’s got that aging rockstar, but I have had botox and collagen shots, look. Black t-shirt with gray skulls, wig and baseball cap worn backwards, black jeans and leather mid-calf black boots. The look is completed by massive tattoos on his arms and he’s reading leafing through a graphic novel.

Two business-suits have come and gone with their iPad airs, earbuds, Blackberry phones. They weren’t sitting together, but they both looked like they had stepped out of the “I’m a businessman” episode of What Not To Wear.

Last, but not least, there is a gentleman who is the spitting image of a young Alan Arkin. He’s wearing larger than life headphones on his bald head. Dark sweater and white and blue checkered shirt. I cannot imagine what he has been listening to this whole time. There’s a part of me that believes he’s listening to classical jazz, just by his appearance. But another part of me wants to believe he’s probably dancing around in his head to Britney Spears, Justin Bieber and Miley Cyrus.

And as I gather my things, off to the next work adventure, the calligrapher looks up for a moment, just to check on her lettering, chomper has just finished her red beads, and rocker has moved on to leafing through Rolling Stone.

Apparently, I’m All About Updates

I need to find inspiration to write (yes, I know, reading would be the quickest way), but I figured I would update the blog, once again. I will NOT write a bulleted list as that seems to get me nowhere (save for the fact that it looks organized and makes the page/post longer).

Pre-Pre-Christmas Happenings
I was definitely not into Christmas this year. Actually, I really haven’t been into Christmas in quite sometime, probably since my dad passed, probably a bit before that. Last year was spent traveling to Italy, to see family (never a good idea). That trip merits its own post, but honestly, it would really sound more like the rantings of a lunatic and I don’t really think that that is good reading. For that kind of material there are tabloids. (wink, wink. nudge, nudge).

I worked like a dawg right up until the 20th of December. I will spare you the details, suffice it to say that I was able to pull off a small miracle thanks to a great group of people.

Pre-Christmas Happenings: The Road Trip
Apparently, my mother and I are a bit looney. So much so, that we decided, rather on a whim (no pre-planning involved. At. All.) to take her recently-leased, deep blue Jeep Cherokee, out for a spin. A 1400 mile spin from NYC to the Palm Beach, Fl area. What fun.


An Italian mother and daughter. In a car. Driving to Florida? I know what you’re thinking. It wasn’t that dramatic. Ok, maybe a little. We also had a passenger: my mother’s cat, who after trying desperately to place himself between the gas pedal and the break, decided to confine himself to his carrier and hold “it,” until the all clear was given (i.e. we had arrived in the pan handle).

He’s fine.

Once we made landfall arrived, we decided that the trip wasn’t so bad after all, and that if we were to do it again, we would take more than just two days and stop in such locales as Charleston, Savannah and Raleigh. Right? Right.

Was spent mostly recouping from driving for 21 hours sleeping and then with a dipping of toes in a tepid pool. Some light conversation. No family drama. Personally, I would have been happing staying in my PJs all day alternating between napping, reading and writing. But hey, someone else cooked and good company is always good.

Here I am, still in Fla. There’s a part of me that is relishing this time away from the energy that NYC exudes and a part of me that is longing for spaces that are familiar (my couch! my bed!), sounds that aren’t foreign and a space all my own. Which brings me to a larger question, how much of a hermit have I become? Maybe it’s just that I feel I was given the gift of nine whole days off (yay!) and none have been spent writing (boo!). No, this post doesn’t count.

I set a goal for myself, that I would be able to write 1,500 words of my novel (you’re writing a novel? What?) so that it would get me to the fantabulous total of 10,000 words. And eighth of the novel. An eighth. Here I was, contemplating the beauty of 10,000 words and then I calculated that it is NOTHING in the grand scheme of things. On the other hand, as someone I used to know used to say: a loss is a loss is a loss. So I suppose a written page is a written page is a written page. Right? Right.

Looking Forward
I have loads to look forward to in the coming year: writing group is starting again, a weekend after I get back to NYC that I can use to catch up on the aforementioned writing goal. I will have (already do) additional responsibilities at work and fighting for fair remuneration of said additional responsibilities (keep them fingers crossed for the end of June, people).

I will also take what little time is left in my vacay (Thursday is looming large) to ponder what my new year will bring and hope that it is well within reach.

You Can’t Step Step in the Same River Twice

This quote from Heraclitus has been one of my favorites and surely one I remind myself of quite a bit. I thought it would be an appropriate title for my grand return to blogging. I know I have teased my audience (or lack there of) for a while, taunting my readers with posts of writing again and promises without any results. I have no excuse, save for one: I’ve been busy.

A short recap. I mean it. It’s a bulleted list, see?

  • 2011-2012 I was busy with grieving my father and taking care of my mother
  • 2012 was also the year I started taking writing classes (cheering crowds)
  • the months between June and October of this year, I was given more responsibility at work
  • I know, it sounds like a list of complaints, it’s not. Let’s just say that my focus was diverted for some reason or another. And now it feels like it’s back. I’m not making promises of weekly posts, but I will try to write more regularly. And that is why, you may have noticed, the blog has a new title. No more musings, not it’s my blog. Musings has such a passive quality to it. I see a younger version of myself, gently laying on the grass in the middle of a field somewhere, gazing at the sky, thinking about things, words, sentences, thoughts. The new title is more direct. This is where you get what you get.