No, that’s not a redundancy, although it kind of is. Moms do make the world go ‘round. You know I love moms. I feel like moms read this blog. Did you know when I started, I thought, I’m going to write a blog that dads and dudes will read and follow and love.
Yeah, right, a cohort said at the time.
It’s going to be women who read you, she was saying. Moms, mostly. They’ll identify with you and share your stuff with each other. They’ll share with their men, too, but mostly, the men won’t listen. They’ll wish their men were a bit like you.
It’s fun. It’s just … extra. I love going to other blogs I’d not normally see. But the engagement is wonky, and I miss conversing with the regulars here. And visiting their blogs. And having time to post on social media and find your links there, too.
When you’re in the challenge, man, it feels like you’re kind of a narcissist.
Not to mention what it does to your non-blog life. I struggled to keep up, and sacrificed progress toward other deadlines. And sleep. Not snacks. I found time for snacks. But the rest of life was kind of a blur. Next time I do this, I’ll work ahead.
These pockets of in-overbookedness don’t happen often.
Rather than get a jumpstart on 53 things that needed jump-starting, I didn’t jump. And I sure as hell didn’t start. Not right away. A day brimming with a promise to put me ahead in everything where I was behind curtained sharply into a back-to-the-pillow nosedive.
The car got washed, the chicken, cooked (not grilled.)
And it’s 1:21 on Sunday morning, sleep time for another day of possibility, but I’m instead forging ahead to maybe close at least one gap – this A to Z Challenge. W, X, Y, and Z remain. One day remains in this weekend.
I don’t have time for all this! But also, I’ve been given 24 hours to figure out how to do it all – that’s a lot of time! (I also think about Michelle Gingras, Stonehenge, and Havarti cheese, but that’s for another post.)
What’s left in the middle is that time is time, there’s no time like the present, you can’t make new time, and it’s time to go. Also, I might not have time to finish this post until tonight, which is sorta like getting to the fair 10 minutes before it packs up and hits the road.
Not that big a deal. But, also twice the serving size. (I even cut it only into two pieces, you know? Two-piece maximum.) When I eat half the pizza, I feel normal. Average. So then that other half looks back at me … tantalizing …
Where was I going with this?
Oh, quality. Well, I still can’t remember the exact connection I was trying to make. But it’s almost lunchtime. And I’ve fallen behind on this challenge. And I haven’t been thrilled with the writing quality. I feel like I should write more ahead of time. I feel repetitive.
I haven’t done these in a while, so I’m glad the A to Z Challenge is providing that chance. When I find a read that makes me want to tell a story, I stash it on a spreadsheet. All I had to do for this one was grab a few that had F words in them.
(Luckily, I didn’t have any that had THAT F word in them.)
I’ve had a good smattering of fresh new bloggage to read this week.
Literally and figuratively. Before last night, I hadn’t written in it for weeks. Also, the back cover has fallen off. There are about five pages left in her, and it looks like it spent a season getting kicked around on Gilligan’s Island.
Gratitude is easy to come back to, it seems.
It wasn’t as if I’d abandoned #gratitudeandshit. It’s part of every day. It just wasn’t getting written down. So I had some old things in there. Things such as, I’m grateful for new episodes of Silver Spoons and I’m grateful for my new calculator watch.
Note: This post comes from a prompt in the book 300 Writing Prompts. On a flight from Charlotte to Phoenix last June, I asked the girl in the seat next to me to choose a prompt from the book for me to write about.
When I finished, the topic sparked an interesting conversation I’ll never forget.
Are there any lines that you simply will not cross?
Yes – although I can’t promise I never have, or I never will.
A writer finds himself, you know, between chapters sometimes.
When that happens, he finds the usual roundup of possibilities: Contract jobs that never seem to fill, positions for nameless companies that might want to talk to you. Maybe. If only you could talk with someone who can find you a job you’d love …
Meet Liz Khodak.
Visiting her office uptown during a job search years ago was different. We sat at a table and talked. She listened. She took notes. (I tried to read them, but I’m lousy at reading upside down.) It was a very different experience.
Not the Dollar General one. The one that goes to my work computer. It’s an Apple MacBook Pro charger. It costs about the same as the Pittsburgh Pirates payroll. I left it plugged in in the media tent during All-Star weekend. (I was hungry and distracted.)
I bought a replacement at a lower cost – about the same as the payroll of the Kansas City Royals, for comparison.
It’s not as fast and fancy. But it works. Thing is, I need to keep plugged in almost always, so I don’t get distracted and hungry and wind up with 7% battery and 37 stories to write. I can also plug my iPhone into this little charger that could.