Tag Archive: work


It’s my favorite time of year again.

The days are growing shorter, the air cooler, and people are running the streets dressed as all manner of spooky, sexy, scary and silly beings. As if that weren’t enough, there’s candy, turkey, stuffing, and candied yams everywhere you go, and the foliage that the Big Apple is known for is in full glory. And yet, there’s a far more intriguing aroma in the air.

Fresh paper and stale coffee, mixed with the scent of desperation and unwashed bodies.

Oh yes. It’s time for NaNoWriMo 2012.

Writing a fifty-thousand word novel in thirty days may seem like the final circle of Dante’s Inferno to some people, but it is without a doubt my favorite crazy undertaking of the year. Two years ago, in 2010, I completed my first manuscript, and it is impossible to describe how amazing that feels. Even if your book is the worst thing you’ve ever read, seen, or smelled, you can’t help but smile at the stinking mess that you’ve made. Hey, it’s warm and it’s yours, right?

The real magic is, somewhere along the way you actually fall in love with your novel. And maybe it’s really not good. But the entire month works to prime the pump of your creativity. You may have 49,500 words of crap, but even that would leave you with one really good page (1%). We all have better ratios than that. And I’m willing to bet that not many people have ever attempted to really write that much anyway.

Over the last few years, I have consistently made determinations to indulge more frequently in my creative pursuits. None of them are paying the bills right now, and so year after year, those determinations get swept under the rug in the pursuit of more immediate and less artistic goals. But something odd has been happening lately. I’ve noticed a growing sense of sadness that haunts those dusty dreams, and that terrifies me. At twenty-three, I am starting to see how and when people give up on themselves and their dreams. And it starts with paying the bills.

NaNoWriMo is an one-month crash course in learning to carve time out of your schedule—whatever kind of schedule it is—and focus on a goal that is much bigger and ultimately (gasp!) more valuable than your paycheck. Focusing on a creative project in our downtime refreshes us, and it gives us a chance to live our lives fully and free of resentment. We then cease to carry bitterness and baggage with us into our less fun, but necessary endeavors, making us better in every aspect of our lives.

I know, I know: you don’t have time to write a novel. But when will you? Will you ever be able to make the time to pursue something you’ve always wanted and never done? Or will you continue to push it to the side because you’re just too busy/tired/broke?

The same logic stops people from exercising, quitting smoking, going back to school, starting a family, and asking for a raise.

What doors have you closed lately?
If you’re ready to open them again, click here.

Image courtesy of Kaboodle.com.


Hot Men Are People, Too


Okay, so I haven’t been so diligent in my determination to blog every day.  I admit that.  But as you can see by the Wolverine post, quality suffers when you blog to blob.  But I’m hoping that there’s a mysterious wall that I can break through, like you put 100 crappy posts up and then everything that you write for the rest of your life is amazing.  So I am redetermining to hit my goal in February.
So just wanted to say:

Yesterday, at work, I saw one of the most gorgeous guys that I have EVER seen in my life.  He made most male models and movie stars look like homeless people.  He was tall, well-dressed, olive toned skin, perfect hair— come to think of it, he looked just like the love interest from my novel.  So glad that I didn’t think of that last night— I almost certainly would have said it.

So, he orders a beer and gets up to use the restroom.  We were fixing something in the men’s room, so he had to use the ladies’ room.  I was anxiously waiting to use the restroom myself, due to my new determination to drink eight glasses of water while I work.  So after a few minutes, he came out, and I waited what seemed like an appropriate, yet entirely  unreasonable length of time before rushing in.

The smell in that bathroom was unfathomable, and as I opened the door, it rushed out and greeted my nostrils with a cheerful aggression, not entirely unlike a department store salesperson.  I couldn’t do anything but laugh, which I quickly decided against, so as not to give the smell another way to invade my senses.

The guy was still hot when I left the bathroom, but decidedly more human, and I felt that I suddenly knew what it was like to be married to him.  Needless to say, all the fantasy of having him sweep me away on a white horse rapidly dissapated, especially when I considered the inherent olfactory truth of this daydream.

All this being said, I have a new appreciation for regular, slightly-above-average looking me.  I may not be wickedly hot, but I have never blown up a public restroom like that.

Photo courtesy of Wikimedia.org.

Post-A-Day 2011


Someone finally called me on my crap.

WordPress is challenging its bloggers to do the unthinkable and post more than they’ve ever posted before.  Starting January 1st, you can challenge yourself to post either once a day or once a week for the entire year. 

I had actually resolved that I would post at least once a week for this year, but I’ve always lived by the philosophy that you should stretch yourself in every endeavor.  Not far enough to kill you, just far enough to scare you.  I know that I can do a post a week.  I think I can do a post a day.  So, because every moment is a chance to challenge yourself, and none more so than New Year’s Eve, I will commit to posting something, anything, every single day.

Can you hear my heart pounding?  I can.  It’s that familiar are-you-nuts feeling that I had when I challenged myself to write a book in a month, back in November.

To three hundred and sixty five days of making the impossible possible.

Get ready to learn more about me than you ever wanted to know.

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

In the spirit of the holidays, I would like to pose a little brain bender to all of you. Close your eyes – ideally, after you read this – and imagine.

It’s Christmas Eve, a magical night where anything can happen, where an overweight man in a red suit travels the globe at the speed of light. It’s 9:30 pm, and all around the world, millions of children have already tucked into their beds, eagerly awaiting the gifts and love and golden memories that the next day will bring.

You are eating at a beautiful little restaurant in the heart of the city, safely away from the chill night air, surrounded by the people that you love. You sip a delicious, full-bodied red wine, and enjoy a hearty holiday feast.

Suddenly, your chest is tight, and your eyes are bulging. Someone screams, and you know you are choking.

It all happens so quickly, and as your life flashes in front of your teary eyes, you wonder if this restaurant, these people, will be the last things you ever see.

But without warning, you feel a pair of arms locking around your stomach. They jerk upwards into your belly once, twice, and you can suddenly breathe again. When your heart stops racing, you glance behind you and see your waiter, looking back at you with concern.

The ambulance finally arrives, but you’re fine now, thanks to your waiter. You return to your meal and your family, a bit dazed and still a little shaken.

Now imagine all of these things, and tell me:

How much do you tip someone after they save your life?