Going Down South

I don't know if it was my recent trip to Florida or the premiere of Justified on FX, but lately I've been feelin' some American Gothic. Big time. As soon as I'm done with this cursed final project I'm diving into some O' Connor, some Faulkner, gonna attempt to make a Chess pie, and finally try that sweet tea vodka. It's gonna be a long, hot, spring.

More evidence that a good breakfast can make any day marginally better

If you ever blow a tire on the Miami freeway at 4 am, I highly suggest hitting up the Ham and Eggery. The owners are enthusiastic about three things: wood paneling you can't find outside a 70s rumpus room, decorations that must have been scrounged exclusively from garage sales (where else can you find a giant poster of Scarface, a decorative portrait of the Rev. Martin Luther King, and the cover to a Jimi Hendrix album on the same wall?), and cheap breakfast food. The entire spread pictured (plus a tasty buttermilk pancake that had yet to arrive) cost a mere $13. Despite the harrowing circumstances that led us to this fine establishment (housed in a faux barn no less), the near-death experience may just have been worth it. If I ever find myself in that crummy strip of road within walking distance of the Tire Kingdom, I will be back.

nonsense

I want a garden

I want to wear aprons

I will collect teacups and teapots

I will make pie crust from scratch

I will return to London

I will live abroad

I will write in a Parisian cafe

I will sell a screenplay

I will live for everyone who can't

The Writing Life

I've been reading the Cambridge Companion to Virginia Woolf in search of a specific quote on her writing process and, as usual, her dedication to journaling and letter-writing is both inspiring and exhausting. I look over at my bookshelf at the pitiful little journal I've kept off and on since I went to London in 06. How many thoughts, memories, feelings are now lost? Of course, I have a separate place for 'ideas', quotes, etc, but I could do more. That's the problem with being a writer-type. You never feel like you're working hard enough, writing enough, thinking enough, living enough....sometimes I have to remind myself that I'm getting my MASTER'S degree and it's ok that I'm not as productive as I *could* be...My monstrous final project has definitely cut into my own writing time, but even when I do manage to write a scrap or two of fiction (or lately lyrics again) I feel guilty/stressed because I have this big deadline looming before me. What I wouldn't give to be an accountant or a housewife or a fishmonger and be *satisfied*. I am my own worst enemy.

Travel Fantasy #1

Let's Sail to Byzantium

... I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.~W.B. Yeats

How epic would it be to travel along the Bosphorus to Istanbul, a city full of history, contradictions, art, and architecture of the grandest scale? Taking in the Hagia Sophia, strolling through a bustling market on a hazy afternoon, sipping tea in a cafe with the call to prayer echoing across the city...

Year-End Wrap-Up

Ok, here's a list of my top five things of 2009. Sort of like Oprah's favorite things, except without the freebies or screaming suburban moms. I've decided to combine genres and years because I am a little sloooow in the book-buying department. Hey! They're expensive! But, this represents the best from my year at least :) Onto the next decade!

best show: Mad Men
Thank you, Matt Weiner for giving the world Don Draper.

best book: The Road/ The Collected Stories of Amy Hempel
As mentioned above, neither of these books were published in 2009 but they were the best books I read this year, which is ultimately more important.

best line: "Drunk rollerblading is danger, 90s style."
I write down things people say. I like this one the best.

best song: Blood Bank by Bon Iver
If you've never heard this song, you need to download it right now.

best place to blow my stipend: modcloth.com.
If I'm wearing something that you think is cute, it's probably from here.

On Writing

Today I realized something: I am not writing as much as I want to be. This is strange, in a sense, because rare is the day I don't write something. Perhaps an addendum is in order: I am not writing what I want to be writing as much as I want to be. Grad school provides one with the rare opportunity to devote a sizable chunk of time to reading, writing, and thinking. I welcome this, of course. And, I do believe that the more I read and write, the better I get--even if I don't always like what I'm reading or writing. However, I find that the more I read and write for school, the less energy (and time) I have to spend on my "own" writing. This issue becomes even more pressing when I'm writing an actual article on top of the reading and writing for school, plus the writing for myself. I feel guilty when I don't "write" every day--I feel guilty that I am in the middle of a novel and a screenplay that I've barely touched since September. "Don't be so hard on yourself," I think. "You're in the middle of getting your Master's degree!" And yet, there is no excuse. "You have time," I counter. "All those minutes you waste looking a dresses on Modcloth or checking absolutely nothing on Facebook? That's pages you're missing."

But is it? I've always been a little neurotic, a little prone to stress--I think I need those 30-40-60 however many minutes some days to unwind. To think about something simple, like how pretty a certain skirt is, instead of composition theory and its place in today's classroom. James makes fun of me for reading celebrity gossip, but there is just something so theraputic in reading about Lindsay Lohan's latest meltdown or the unending insipidness of the Kardasian sisters. It's complete and utter fluff--and I need that. I am not being graded on it, there is no reason for me to commit any of it to memory, and it won't have any impact on my future. Grad school involves all of those things--and more. Those little mental vacations I go on once or twice a day are necessary for my sanity. The idea that I would instead through myself into the writing pit then just doesn't make any sense. True, I work best when I stick to a schedule, but I also know the dribble that comes out when I make my brain work when it is exhausted. Perhaps, the best thing me to do, is to relax and trust in myself--trust that the writing will come.