i am a crap writer

i have had one dream ever since i was little, shining like a beacon that i held in front of me - i want to be a writer.

not just a writer, because in my mind that's not enough, but a published writer. and perhaps a critically-acclaimed published writer whom jhumpa lahiri really, really enjoys, but "just" a published writer would be good, too. in fact, that wold be great. that would be a dream come true.

i'm doing nanowrimo this year, that crazy thing people do every november. the idea is to write a 50,000-word novel in 30 days. basically it's 30 days of hell, because writing is 20% actually writing and 80% overcoming the constant self-assessment that you are the very worst writer that ever lived, ever breathed, ever existed.

writing is not for the faint of heart. or the lacker of self-esteem. it's basically a cesspool for sadists. or masochists. or both.

and here's why - it's because i care so much that i hate everything i write. those papers in high school and college, the ones that i got a good grade on simply because i could string a sentence together, were no reflection of my writing ability. they were simple showcases of my talent for vomiting bullshit on a computer screen. and believe me, i was proud of them, especially after i had friends who spent hours on papers, only to get Cs and Ds. but those papers weren't anything to be really happy with, not on a writer's level. i didn't care about those papers about crappy books i hated or homoerotic, metaphysical feelings between two random Shakespeare characters. i cared about the short story i wrote for samrat that he absolutely massacred - and about the second draft that he praised. because for two seconds, just a wisp of time, i felt like i wasn't the very worst writer that ever walked the earth. i felt like my moments of talent could possibly come together to create something that some literary agent would connect with, and then beg and plea some publisher to publish. and it all might come true, this dream of me of opening up a box and seeing a book with my name on it and smelling that truly wonderful smell of fresh book - possibility, hope, pages and pages of words that are all mine.

so i keep writing this crappy story i'm working on, keep churning out words that sometimes remind me of the bullshit vomit, keep going, hoping the next sentence will be better, or the next, or the next one after that. it has to be. what i lack in self-esteem, i make up in determination. i can do this. i have to do this.

just one more word.

the cat i never had

pros of owning my own home: my rules, my stuff (everywhere), my choices about where my stuff goes and what my rules are.

cons: shit goes wrong. and mom won't fix it.

i just need to wake up every morning and say to myself "what today?" today's particular problem: i have a mouse in my house. it's not cute because it rhymes; it's disgusting, especially when i found its poo all over my pantry.

so i'm debating something that i've been wanting since i was six: a cat. the whole mouse problem would just be a side perk to having a cat. it would really be me fulfilling a lifelong dream, plus i get to save another animal, and that's the best thing of all.

what do you think?

dealing with things way beyond my maturity level

if it's meant to be, it will be.

i really, really fucking hate that god-awful cliche. mostly because it sounds like i have no control. and i have to have control. control and white wine = two of my best friends. when i don't have control, when i feel outside my comfort zone, when i start edging past the ability to schedule and label and categorize my various conflicts and problems, when i can't make a list on my pastel pink post-it note - that's when i start to spiral down into a pit of self-doubt and deprecation.

most of the reason i don't believe in fate and destiny and all that crap is it implies i have no control over the decisions that will lay out my life - that they're already decided and mapped out in some blueprint in the universe. i don't want to be some helpless person who has no control over her future, even if i am some helpless person with no control over my future. i know i can't predict or plan or even guess what happens next. but i would rather fool myself into thinking it's possible, that maybe, just maybe all my dreams and hopes will come true, and all my fears and doubts will just be dust in the wind.

fingers crossed

it may have happened.

but i am a sad believer in jinxes, so i feel like i can't stay what it is. only infer from my previous rantings the one thing that has consumed my life for what feels like years. and know i am starting to be semi-hopeful. of course 20,000 things have to fall into place for this to happen. oy oy oy. but it's nice to be hopeful instead of despair that i'll never find what i'm looking for. i'm looking at my apartment, the place where i've discovered how much i really love my freedom and all that comes with it (yes, even paying bills). this place is usually clean-ish, but is now covered with boxes and random things that don't fit into any sort of category. i have hurt my back twice in this prolonged move already, but i am so excited to be going home, even if it's to my room that doesn't look anything like my room anymore. columbus may be god-awful boring, may be small, may die at 8:30, may be the place where most people my age pray to escape or give me weird looks when i say i'm happily returning, but i can't wait to go back.

fingers crossed this all works.

hello lover

would it be wrong to spend $950 on a pair of shoes?

really? i mean, seriously, they are the most beautiful pair of shoes ever. lily allen wore them on australian tv and said she stole or "nicked" them. i completely understand why.

although it pisses me off slightly that lily, a girl who is both younger than me and in a position to buy a $950 pair of shoes, had to nick them. (p.s. the word "nick" is so much more fun than stole. i love british slang.)

ok, see them for yourself. and if you'd like to buy them for me, go here. (size 10.5, please!)

when i grow up

is it the pink shoes that make my feet look so professional when i point? or the grace of the dance? it's gotta be the costumes with the tulle and sparkles and beautiful colors. for whatever reason, ballet always captivated me, the way it has captivated little girls ever since it became en vogue. i took lessons at my elementary school when i was 7 or 8, and i'm double-jointed in my ankles, letting me turn out past 180 degrees. that's about the extent of my knowledge of ballet, but i've always, always wanted to take lessons again. i thought about doing it at iu - stupid that i didn't, considering they have an amazing school there. then i thought about doing it this year when i was up in indy, since there are lots of schools around here that have adult lessons. now i'm moving back to a town with a whole two dance studios, none of which have adult lessons. and i'm really sad about that, enough that i'm considering entering a beginner class with 5-7-year-olds. almost.

but how good would it feel to snatch back a childhood regret? most of the things i do wish i had done, i'll never get the chance again. just the idea that i might be able to dance again is empowering. i can't wait until i actually get to put on those shoes.

now if i can just figure out how to get en pointe in a few months...

regrets

i regret not taking russian in college. spanish, seriously, what was i thinking? i can carry on a conversation in spanish only a little better than if it was in russian.

i should have gone to europe to study abroad. i don't think i could have done a whole semester, but i definitely should have done a summer. 10 days was so not enough.

i wish i had spoken up more - in class, in sorority meetings, for things i thought were unfair, for issues. i couldn't campaign or attend rallies because i was a journalist, but i still could have done something.

i could have volunteered. or at least covered more stories about non-profits. the best i did was push for directors of various charities to be on the live show i produced.

i wish i hadn't been so scared to fail. that's still a mountain i'm trying to climb.

i should have eschewed sleep more. not the all-nighter thing, but i should have at least enjoyed some more bar days with my friends who are all now living their own lives, and who i will only now see when someone gets married. my liver thanks me, my heart does not.

i needed to let the schedule go. let the planner get lost. maybe even leave the cell phone at home. another one i can work on.

why didn't i go to runcible spoon when i was at iu? or the farmer's market more? or the restaurants on 4th street? or more restaurants period? or jazz night at bear's place? uncle elizabeth's? the early music festival? any music festival?

i shouldn't have wasted time on regrets. i should have just gotten them out there, like i'm doing now, and let them go. we burn last year's palms and use them for ash wednesday mass. there's something cleansing about that, and i don't quite understand why. but this is my blog post learning from my regrets, letting them go and burning them into the air.

this isn't my city anymore

ok, it was fun, this big-city living i did for almost 11 months. i enjoyed the experience, the shopping (oh the shopping!), the morning walk three blocks into downtown, where the skyline would greet me, the 18th floor office with its panoramic views of the city (perfect for checking out a massive fire in an empty building), the choices for pretty much everything. it was lovely and all, but i'm over it. i'm done with the big city. i'm regressing - literally - back to my childhood, to the place i was raised and that i honestly didn't think i would come back to for a long, long time. true, i loved coming back when i had to work out of the office there, and true i wanted to raise my kids there. so maybe this is the way it's supposed to happen? strange, isn't it, the way things work? almost like my heart knew something i didn't. when i made the choice to move back to my hometown, it was a light switch going off - like saying, yes, of course, why didn't i see this option earlier? the moment i considered it, no other option was viable: it was this or nothing. we'll see how it all works out, but one thing is for certain: the rest of the summer is going to be life-changing for me, literally. i can't wait.

house hunting part dva

after seeing my 27th house two days ago - and not being completely in love with the fact that we would have to expand it + add a new garage - i've officially decided that i am done rushing this process.

that doesn't mean i'm not going to continue to look at houses. but i'm not going to put an offer down on one that i don't have that feeling about. you know, that fluttery, this-is-right feeling? that feeling where instinctively i know it's the way to go. i haven't had that yet about houses - not even about the one we did put an offer on (and lost...boo). it wasn't an instantaneous love - more a definitely like that could grow into love over time.

i realize this is a slightly fucked-up way to look at homes. but i'm ok with that. if i'm going to go $140,000 in debt, i may as well be in love with the place that will own my soul.