Second Chances

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Rejection is tough, as always, in all its forms. Second chances might feel like miracles, today is one of those days. Maybe miraculous is a strong word but I’m feeling the love!

A while back I had an opportunity to submit my work to an agent and it got lost in the ether, but today I was able to resend and that is a great feeling. It makes up for the blurgh and boohoo that’s been going on this week, to the point that I pretty much gave up on #nanowrimo2016 because my soul shrivelled up a little bit.

But hoorah! Second chances sprinkle magic pixie dust on everything they touch, so I managed to tidy up the motherfucking kitchen, and sweep the goddamn floor and when I look around at the COUNTER I can see it and find stuff. That’s a good feeling, too.pixie-dust

What A Difference A Year Makes

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I get the facebook photo reminders of years passed and I like seeing all the widdle babies in my newsfeed, but there was something else going on a year ago this month. NaNoWriMo. I did it last year after not doing it the previous year. And I finished a book that I’d been writing for more than a fucking decade, and then I finished one that I’d started even before that after a few minutes of wringing my hands. Cut to now and I’m writing again but in a little bit of a lackluster fashion, I must say.

I’ve got a day job – not with cops – and the laundry is still piling up, so not only do I have less time, but I have less time in my head. Boo! Wah! I hear you cry. First world problems – totally. Welcome to the real world – I agree. The real world blows. Which is why I make up my own (very small) worlds in print, full of heartache. Why?! Why do I do this to myself, the weeping and the hurting and the painful love. I said to Husband that I must try and write something a bit happier next time, that doesn’t involve cheating spouses and people pining for forever lost loves. But oh pooh! That is what I live for, the beautiful heartache and the rending of aortas in chests.

My #wip is getting there slowly, whereas a year ago I was getting thousands of words a day on the page. And I can’t pull the midnighters anymore because I’m tired from living in the daytime. Ho hum. But the flipside is, of course, that this time next year I will have my very own words on the page everywhere good books are sold! E V E R Y W H E R E. Amazeballs.

‘Kay. Must go and (google myself) procrastinate some more.

Vagina Vagina Vagina

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So I randomly make comments about vaginas and etc, but that’s a new state of being for me. In school, aside from that bloody letter to a friend, I could rarely say the word aloud, let alone regularly, bit just look at me now.

I’m hosting a Wine & Vagina craft night just before xmas, including a tree decoration craft complete with a little ding-a-ling. It’s empowering as hell. 

I’ve pinned a whole board on Pinterest with cool crafts for grown-ups (because I’ve been stuck in airports today), but I’ve excluded food crafts. I’m drawing the line at eating them for this particular night. 

I encourage everyone to get jiggy with vajayjay crafts and make it all very conversational and not very Michigany.

Yay vaginas!

#heartvaginas

Every Day Feels Like Summer

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…with you, when you’re stuck in an airport and the kids can watch Shaun The Sheep. Love that song!
We had a fun time with friends in Texas, cue the shenanigans.

And then it’s time for us to go and now our plane has been delayed twice. Deja vu. #italy

So here we are, chilling with full bellies from that delish Italian Wedding canned soup in the lounge. Mmmm, mysterious white beads and meat balls.

But frankly, I’m waiting for the next announcement that means the kids are missing another day of school. Last time, we got home at 4am, at least this time looks like maybe a midnight arrival at home, which isn’t the end of the world. It might be the end of my patience, though, and we’re out of the lounge so there’s no red wine just lying around. 

Yes, that was another announcement. Looking into alternative flights for the rest of the night, apparently. Next time I’m bringing a flask.

Rejection

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Rejection blows, whatever it’s aboot. I got a letter of rejection recently and it bloweded, even though I knew it was coming and it was worded simply. It suckeded. I took a few minutes and lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling and trying not to let the rejection get to me. Husband asked how he could cheer me up and I replied that I wasn’t uncheery, just quiet. I’ve had rejection letters before and no responses to novel queries, which is what this rejection was for, and I’m sure they suckeded as much as this recent one did, but they’ve been forgotten in the heady day-to-day processes of change that I’m engaged in for my novel that comes out next year. I stood up and brushed off the rejection and forgot about it for most of the afternoon since we were taking the boys “out” and that’s a full-time gig, so I needed my head in the game. But it briefly reminded me of a few other things I’ve been rejected for…

Jobs. I started applying for occasional jobs a few months ago and I got knocked back on that awesome job with the cops! I knew there would be heaps of applicants, hello – who isn’t hot for cops? But it was still a bummer to see that “thanks but no thanks” email. I’m glad I got the job I did, though, the hours are awesome.

Please read my book. I sent a handful of requests out to real live authors for them to read my book so I can have famous quotees on the cover. Most of them were too busy and I knew it was a long shot, but seeing the ‘no’s was still a let down. On the other hand, I’ve had a couple of fantastic quotes from local authors!

Shoes. I have expensive taste and until recently, less than a lemonade income. I’m still not quite up to champagne but I digress. I like to buy pretty stuff like expensive men’s shoes and books. Husband put his foot down (haha) because the shoes were literally a week’s income! His arguement was very reasonable, of course. It was disappointing but not unexpected. What I didn’t know was that he negotiated the shit out of the price and I got them anyway. I realize this cancels all of my rejections.

Adam Driver. He’s married. End of story. I know that I, too, am married, but still. As an aside, I watched a terrible movie the other day and the main man had a few Driver-esque headshots.

franc-luz

Franc Luz. What do you think?

Getting dumped by men/dickheads. I got dumped while engaged. But look at me now! I got dumped in high school, see above.

I guess there are silver-linings everywhere, so I’ll keep shopping my manuscript around, fingers crossed.

Castaway: How Would we Fair?

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We re-watched The Martian the other day and we were discussing the sciencing aspects of the sciencing of shit. We just ordered Cast Away for the same reason – science and survival. Not sure how we’ll handle the ice-skate and the tooth but we’ll get through it.

We’ve discussed earthquake preparedness and other random and indistinct emergencies, which result in us not being able to go shopping or basically leave our property. We won’t be making bamboo rafts for floating away just yet, but I guess we’ll cover that during the movie. Other similar discussions bring up new and interesting aspects of cabin-fever and other ailments requiring diy home remedies, which I’ve detailed below.

It’s the end of days. Do you

A) Tell the kids it’s what you’ve been preparing for?

B) Quietly go about your business because you try not to mix in general society much anyway?

C) Crank up the generator, they’re already used to the obnoxious smoke and sound of the stupidly loud bastard?

D) Grab the bandanas, arm your family and go and raid your neighbours’ houses?

The electricity has been out for two days. Do you

A) Drink the cool-aid?

B) Have a shit-ton of firewood so who cares?

C) Burn all the stubs of those broken fucking crayons like you saw on Pinterest and use them as oil lamps?

D) Get up with the sun and go to bed when it’s gone?

You’ve eaten all of your emergency food. What is “rationing”, anyway? Do you

A) Fashion spears from the bones of the neighbours you’ve already eaten and go spear fishing?

B) Make animal traps from the green stalks of the plants in the garden and hope you catch a big squirrel rather than a skunk?

C) Leave the safety of your cul-de-sac for the relative abundance of the forest and hope for the best?

D) Willingly starve because your kids always refuse to try new foods?

The “big one” hits and your house is literally in pieces. You manage to get out unharmed and huddle together for warmth while you decide to

A) Walk to where you assume a big-ass shelter has been set up by an aid agency?

B) Set up camp in the backyard and tell stories about the good old days about paying good money to set up camp away from home?

C) Make your way under the cover of darkness to Redmond because that’s the only place that authorities will be able to drop provisions and provide support since the other major airports in Oregon will be completely fucked-di-doo?

D) Accept your fate because family trips are sort of always fucking awful in one way or another, and just kiss each other good-bye at bed-time?

The answers to this quiz provide no points, because of all of the above. I wish you luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour!

National Smile Day

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Guessing everyone is telling dudes everywhere to “smile, beautiful”.

Anyhoo, National Smile Day (who comes up with this stuff?).

What makes people smile? What makes me smile? Husband, boys, obvs, reading funny shit. Thinking of this

because it’s really happening!

Watching movies with the boys that deal with real things makes me smile. We’re rewatching The Martian and the boys are dissecting the science. It’s perfect. We’re going to watch Castaway next. I wonder if they’ll recognize the voice of Woody.

What else? Food, not so much these days. Not even the delicious cupcakes that were waiting patiently on a sidetable at a baby shower I went to yesterday. But booze, yes, booze makes me smile. Wine and cocktails.

Dresses make me smile, and dressing up. I’ve a pinterest board just for beautiful dresses. I fantasize about making some of them.

And writing, ofcourse. I smile when something during the day reminds me of something I wrote someone saying or doing, or when something gives me an idea and a I write surreptitious notes to myself.

Please make yourself happy, today and every day.

Too Bloody Right. Seriously, Too Bloody 

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One time in high school, during one of the times when everyone was writing each other letters, even though they would see each other every day, I was writing an inspired letter to a friend and the general theme was menstruation – written in red ink, drawn-on drips down the side of the page, puddles here and there, maybe even a bloody tampon cartooned somewhere (Please no), so anyway. Dad walks in to say something and I’m sitting at my desk with the obligatory study lamp glaring onto the red-ruined white page and of course, sees what I’m doing (decorating/ defacing). He glances; we exchange pleasantries; he exits; my pen picks up where it left off.

Was he grossed out? At the time I thought he would have been, I certainly was. If course, now, I know what husbands witness their wives going through so he probably wasn’t even. Was he glad that I was owning it rather than letting it own me? I had been owned by my period for a long time because obvs, that shit is freaky and gross and scary. Blood in ya junk. Picture Jason Stackhouse overloaded on V, scared and alone with blood in his junk and not happy with what comes next. Not quite that extreme with the needle but a good camparison generally.

Now, I’m wondering if characters that I’m writing should be casual in their references to periods and rags and all things monthly-related, because that’s what grown ups do, apparently. I have 3 young boys so I’m not really casually mentioning it myself, except when a friend comes over and we joke about synchronizing cycles. But that doesn’t change the fact that bleeding from ya junk is gross, even as an aside to beautiful and useful nature doing wonderful things. Maybe real women do have those conversations, but I was never a single in a share house, so I don’t know. I suppose if it was funny, then I could stomach reading stuff, but that’s not empowering readers, though. It shouldn’t have to be funny, it should just be real. 

(deliberating while Husband snores)

K. I will try and put nonchalant blood in an upcoming storyline. Over and out.

Work Is The New Black

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So I survived my first week. Not a full week because I’m part-time, but a week, nonetheless. It feels like a big deal because it is, because not working in a decade has made me my own boss, damn it, but I did ok taking direction from supervisors and etc. Everybody’s been real nice, but not like in Liar Liar. So I’ll be going back on Monday.

When I first moved to Sydney, I was 25 and slim and naive; I didn’t know that I would meet Husband and propose to him six months later. I also got a good job where most everyone was similarly real nice (actually one was a little too nice) and Husband would call me pretty often, like every hour or so. He had a sales job where he drove around alot and talked to people. Pretty much the same thing he does now except less driving. And even though we’re old hat now, that trend for (talking) calling has continued to this day, except for when he is away and only checks in before he rides mechanical fucking bulls. True story. Anyhoo, we still speak on the phone constantly, even if he’s in town and just down to the shops, etc. But now, now that I’m working for the man and kind of busy (and consequently unavailable – Dear Cosmo, will this make me more desirable?), that trend has come to a timely end.

Husband was driving home from the airport during the week and normally he would call and chat and talk and catch up and converse and gossip and etc, but now? I’ve no idea how he made it home because I didn’t speak to him until I caved and sent him a silent email about preparing dinner etc.

And now it’s been me wondering about what’s going on at home, specifically about homework and afternoon jobs for the kids. I had to go so far as to create a cheat sheet so shit would get done in my absence, since it kind of didn’t the first two days while I was at work. It seems a simple idea, but when four dudes come into the house and everyone wants to do something different, I guess that’s how it goes without my calming influence to guide them toward standard requirements, ha!

But yeah, now I’m the one missing out on stuff like fighting about homework and coercing the children into unpacking the dishwasher and sharing the lego. Maybe it will make me appear more desirable of everything to my kids if I’m not there for that stuff, even though it’s been my domain for the last five years.

It’s funny to hear the kids talking about me working, now that it’s a reality rather than a myth or legend from before they were born.

wonder-woman

It’s time to put on my tiara and own it.