admin 4/24/10 admin 4/24/10

Fingers Crossed

Now What?

I’ve met someone. I’ll just put that right out there. And it’s super new and fragile and awkward…but the truth is, I like him. And of course, I don’t know how to handle it.

When you’re a teenager, you sort of makeout whenever you can and in the cover of darkness. Sometimes you have sex. In college you have sex whenever and wherever you can and sometimes you make out. In your twenties you have relationships that sort of erupt overnight like mushrooms, and then somehow become marriages. And sometimes you get divorced. Sometimes you get divorced and you have kids. After that, the dating world transforms. It’s not even a world anymore. It’s a universe…and it’s alien at that.

So this man…he’s smart, and funny, and flirtatious, and cute, and nerdy, and I’m pretty certain he likes me too. At 36 it feels ridiculous to wonder, “Should I call him?” and “Does he like me?” and “If I text him am I contacting him too much?” and then…eventually… “When is it okay to sleep with him?” They’re all ridiculous questions, and all things I’ll figure out if I can talk to him. Which I think I can.

Mostly, I just want time to get to know him. I’d love to hang out and watch movies, cook dinner for him, go out. Finding time between jobs and responsibilities and kids and everything is doubly tricky.

And of course, there’s the real potential of heartbreak. Dating doesn’t usually work out. Someone gets bored or pissed or starts showing you all those dark places they’d been hiding. Then again, what’s considered successful dating? Marriage? I rather like to think that successful dating is where you remain authentically you. You talk. You connect (er…physically, yes, but emotionally too) and that all lasts as long as it can. So if you’re true to yourself you get this daily gift of another person sharing some time with you, and maybe a little bit of their self. For however long you can. That’s success.

And, dear sir, If you’re reading this, no worries. I’ll tell you all this when I see you again. I feel pretty certain that will happen.

And for anyone I’ve pissed off through my fumbling and flirtations, I really am sorry. I haven’t blogged about the dates I’ve been on over the year, but they are rather humorous, so I just might…and I’m sorry for that too. Not to be insensitive, but sheesh, when a guy says he can’t see you anymore because he’s got to go on a weeklong ‘cleansing’ with his guru, well he's sort of asking for it.

And as for this new guy in my life…I’m glad I met you. Be tender. I will too. And everyone else out there who’s been following my divorce and disasters…maybe…maybe after you go through that, you also find something delightful.

I’m keeping my fingers crossed at any rate.

(Coming soon: I revisit old boyfriends from childhood on. Not literally visit them like in "High Fidelity". Just in mini-profiles.)

admin 4/21/10 admin 4/21/10

My Obsessive List of Back-to-Dating Questions

I list a whole hunk of questions that would keep any therapist employed for a couple of months.

After a self-imposed exile (is that the right word?) of dating, I find I want to do it. Uhm, dating, that is, and not Do It…which is an entirely different thing, but yes, something I’d like to do too.

I’m having a little trouble in this area though. Mostly, it’s my brain. It’s getting in the way. At 36 and divorced and a single mom, I have a whole new list of dating questions and I don’t know the answer to them.

Here are a few:

1) Can I blog about a man I’m seeing if he reads my blog? (If I’m seeing you and you’re reading this, you may want to stop. Seriously.) My blog could prove awkward. A girl needs secrets…and while dating you want to appear perfect and like you always smell of scented lotion. You do not want to come off as neurotic, strange, or possibly obsessive…which are all conclusions you could make about me if you read my blog.

2) And if I blog about dating, can I do it while I’m dating or do I have to wait until months later? I keep envisioning me on a date that’s going really well, so well, we’re on some couch somewhere making out like teenagers and I say “Oh! Hold that thought! I want to tell everyone I’m making out like a teenager!” Then I run to the computer, type away, and then run back.

3) Do I wait for a man to approach me and ask me out or embrace newfound Cougar-within and approach him? And what are the new rules? When do I talk about my kids without making it sound like I want a new Daddy. I don’t, but the kids are an essential part of who I am. Like down to the DNA.

And men my age are usually divorced and/or fresh out of relationships or wounded by relationships. Do I wait until they’re more well-adjusted? Is someone who’s bitter about their ex best to be avoided? Or do I just jump in there and say “Hey! I’m here! Let’s do it!” (Dating, again, people. Not Do It. That’s for later.)

4) Can I date someone whose friend I dated but that was like in college when I didn’t know any better? That’s probably asking for a whole lot of drama.

5) Are all my former students who are now in their thirties off limits still? Because role-playing could be fun. No. That’s off the list. If you’re at my school looking to hire me, I would never NEVER date a student. (Again.)

6) Do I immediately mark off the list anyone who is living with their parents. Times are tough. It’s a new era, and lots of people need to get back on their feet.

7) Could I possibly have a fling? One that doesn’t necessarily mean anything? That would be free and easy, wouldn’t it? A passionate fling on a beach somewhere where I have long hair and a bikini body that makes the gods jealous? (Oops. Just slipped into fantasy there.)

8 ) I just answered my own question. I don’t think I’m a fling type of person. My heart always gets in the way.

And most importantly….

9) How do I stop that heart from getting broken? I’m terrified. Absolutely terrified of falling in love with the wrong person. I’m also terrified of falling in love with the right person.

10) I don’t really have a #10 but I felt like I couldn’t end a list on 9.

So that’s my obsessive list for dating. Who knows the answers to these questions? I could ask my therapist, but he’d probably tell me to just trust myself. I’d rather have someone just tell me what to do and not do. It would be a whole lot easier.

admin 4/19/10 admin 4/19/10

Why We Need Each Other...& A Little Kissing

My aunt says that the reason therapy works is that they’ve done studies (can’t cite them though) on brain waves and brain activity and neurons are actually strengthened by talking. So by talking to each other, connecting with each other, it actually heals us, makes us stronger.

Last week I tried posting some writer type things. For those of you who write, I hope it helped, at least to know that everyone struggles, gets frustrated, and is a little neurotic. Just a postscript: when I talked about sharing your work, I didn’t mean everyone needed to try to get published. One reader is all you need. Just find one person that you trust.

I guess that’s sort of true of life, and what I’m trying to do. Trying to find one person I can trust to share all those little awkward, wonderful details with.

As for writing…well, I’ve now reached that point where I point where I broadcast intensely personal aspects of my life and blog about it. Why? Why do I do this? My aunt says that the reason therapy works is that they’ve done studies (can’t cite them though) on brain waves and brain activity and neurons are actually strengthened by talking. So by talking to each other, connecting with each other, it actually heals us, makes us stronger.

Maybe this is why I’m so obsessed with the idea of relationships. And love. And dating. And, yes, making out. When we’re with someone, really present with them, we feel more alive. Brain science proves it.

Of course, I could be making all this up, but it sounds good doesn’t it?

So…stay with me here…if connecting with someone heals us, then perhaps the opposite is true. If you’re in a relationship where there is no more communication, no more physical contact, no more being present with each other, maybe this is harmful. Maybe it really does hurt you, and not just emotionally. This is what happened to me in my marriage. I was doing a slow disappearing act. It came from being ignored and not listened to, and I think my little grey cells were shutting down.

Now, of course, I’m connecting all over the place.

Er….Maybe I should reword that.

I’m talking to friends. I’m laughing. I’m asking for help. I post my writing for everyone to read. I go on dates. Sometimes, if I’m lucky (but not that kind of lucky), I may even kiss someone. It all reminds me of how beautiful life is. And ugly. And hard. And painful. And ultimately miraculous.

Life? It’s messed up. It’s hard. And that’s why we need each other. Really, physically, need each other for help.

It’s brain chemistry, really. Or magic.

That in each other we find…well…a kind of peace. And everyone deserves that feeling.

And to be kissed.

Kissing is good too.

admin 4/15/10 admin 4/15/10

Guest Comments from Elizabeth Searle

Published writer Elizabeth Searle offers a couple of thoughts On Writing.

I met Elizabeth Searle at the MFA program I attended through the University of Southern Maine. While we never worked directly together, I did get to be in one of her workshops and saw her perform...and we clicked. Both of us have performance backgrounds and a love for theater. She even wrote a rock opera about the Tonya Harding saga called "Tonya and Nancy". Plus, she writes erotic fiction so steamy you really need someone to read it to you. :) Here's a comment from her with a great reminder. And check out her blog and writing.

"Hi Tanya & Tanya fans– I just want to chime in with Blunder Woman that she’s got the right approach here– as in the title of her first book: Easy Does It. Inch in with small steps and get your footing. Don’t overlook the opportunities of small mags, online mags; publish there, anywhere, and that gives you cover-letter fuel to approach the bigger fish with more crediblity–

as in fishing, PATIENCE and PERSISTENCE (and lots of red wine) are key– Thanks Tanya, for telling it like it is-"

Elizabeth

http://www.elizabethsearle.net

blogging at:

http://celebritiesindisgrace.wordpress.com

admin 4/14/10 admin 4/14/10

Random Thoughts: Best with Depressing Music

bluh

I know. I know. It’s bad form to double-post. But the previous post was from writer-Tanya and this post is from whining-Tanya. They are two entirely different people (on good days). My DVD player is broken and I drank too much wine and then waited and took a valium for the dentist tomorrow (per prescription. Don’t worry about the wine. I ate and waited first) and now I feel all wobbly. And I feel old. And lonely. Whaaaahh!!!

insert pathetic babyish crying here

Random Thoughts

#1 Two weeks ago I went to Comedy Monday at Dog Story. I’m not currently performing there because organizning and producing the radio plays took too much energy for very little reward. I just can’t keep doing it. So I was there to run box office and to help out. It was a fun night, though people seemed to look through me since I was “Box Office Staff” and not “A Real Person”. And then I was going to stay and do the open improv jam and I looked at all the people staying and they were all in their twenties. A few were in their thirties, but they’re still single and I felt…well….really, really old.

When you’re single, divorced, a single parent, it does something to you. First, it makes you unreliable because there are always issues with babysitters and the kids and family and job obligations. Second, you just can’t seem to shake a constant sense of responsibility. Third, it makes your boobs droop.

So I looked at all the young people and single-no-kids people and I thought “We don’t have a thing in common”. And then I drove home.

#2 I love my house. I love it. My kids love it. And now they’re at their dad’s. He lives, now, a couple of blocks away. His fiancée now answers his phone when I call to talk about the kids. He needed to pick up some things for our daughter and sent his soon-to-be-step-daughter to pick it up for him. And I sat on my deck and had a glass of wine and I thought “Huh. 6 years ago we were married and now I talk more to his fiancée than I do to him.” Our would-be-anniversary was yesterday. The whole day passed and I didn’t realize it until today.

#3 I decided to stop online dating. By stopping online dating and waiting to meet that Special Someone naturally, I’m now not dating at all. And I want to be. I’ve had a few offers from very nice men but I can’t…I just….I need someone who’s my age or older. Who knows about life and struggles.

#4 I miss kissing. I miss lying next to a man in bed and falling asleep with our bodies touching. I miss cooking for someone and adding just a little bit of sexiness into a meal. Food is sensual after all. I miss phone calls and texts. I miss someone thinking about me during the day. I miss daydreaming about coming home to a man and kissing him before he can say a word.

#5 Even food isn’t appealing anymore, though I eat a lot of it.

#6 My pants are tight. My broken foot caused me to gain weight, and though I’m trying to up my activity level, the weight stays on. It’s like a bad memory I can’t shake, because it’s not a memory at all. It’s with me all the time.

#7 I don’t know what I’m doing anymore in my career. I want my teaching to be permanent. I want health insurance.

#8 While life is varied and complex and mysterious, I also wish it weren’t so blasted lonely and hard.

#9 I want to buy a sundress and wear it for someone special.

#10 I want my fantasy life for just a while to match my real life.

I think I’m depressed. I need a good cry. I need to go for a run. I need to make out. I’m not kidding. A good old-fashioned makeout session would cure all of this.

Maybe it’s back to online dating after all. God help me.

admin 4/14/10 admin 4/14/10

“Write for Yourself” is Bunk. We Write So Others Will Read.

Here's where I talk about getting your stuff out there. Writers don't write something and put it in a drawer. We share it. We're givers. That's what we are. Givers.

I’m currently sitting outside on my deck and there’s a nice warm breeze. I’m drinking wine and listening to the birds, and it’s utterly peaceful. All it’s missing is me in a sundress and a man with his hand on my thigh slowly working his way up and under the fabric of my dress.

Uhhhhhhhh

This is supposed to be about writing. And it is. It’s also about relaxing and enjoying life. Which I’m doing.

Okay. So there’s something I want to address here. It’s the whole question of publishing. Now, when you’re trying to get published and it’s just not happening, you may encounter the loving person who says “Don’t worry about it. And anyway, you should just write for yourself.” I’ve heard this so many times, and while I know it comes from a place of love, what I want to say is “No. Actually. I don’t write for myself. I write because I have something to say and I want someone to read it.”

Something you’ve written and haven’t shared is a secret. And it’s a rare thing for a secret to be good. No. We write because something compels us to share our story. Something written without readers is like a song without music. It doesn’t work. We want our work read, and we want it read now, and we want people to be touched and to think we’re geniuses.

I don’t think that’s just me. Really. I think that’s all writers.

Now comes the trouble. How do you get people to read it? You can try to get an agent and get it published. Many try this; many fail. A few make it. Bully for them. I can’t get an agent to look twice at me. Even when I run around in a bikini like I’m a girl on that old Benny Hill show. Blast. I can’t even get a phone number.

So then you submit directly to a publisher. Luckily, Champagne Books took me on. I like them so far. Hope they like me. And while it isn’t my fantasy world of being a Big Published Author, it is a Published Author, and I’ll find more readers through them than I could on my own.

I didn’t start with Champagne though. First, it was hard liquour. (Now that’s just plain silly.) No. What I mean to say is…first…I made my family read my stuff. Then my friends. Then I joined a writing group. Then a second writing group. Then I started reading my stuff out loud on the street corner (or at Dog Story Theater). Then I started a blog. Then I self-published “Easy Does It”. And then, and only then, did I get a gig with Champagne Books.

In my opinion, writing is about telling your story and then sharing that story, in any way you can. So what if you’re not making loads of money? you might. In time. Start small. Start by asking someone those terrifying questions. Even more terrifying than “Will you make out with me?” or “Do these jeans make me look fat?”

No.

You start with this: “I’ve written something. Could you read it and tell me what you think?”

Regardless of your reader or what they think, once your piece is read, it becomes real. You’ve told your story. Now tell another one. And maybe, just maybe, somewhere, somehow, an agent will listen and take you on. And if they don’t…well…fuck ‘em. Get your stuff out there another way. Any way possible. And keep doing it.

Here’s where I raise my wineglass to you and say “Cheers”.

admin 4/13/10 admin 4/13/10

For new, rusty, and reluctant writers

Pressfield says: “Never forget: This very moment, we can change our lives. There was never a moment, and never will be, when we are without the power to alter our destiny. This second, we can turn the tables on Resistance. This second, we can sit down and do our work.”

I wanted to try and do something a little different with the blog this week. Why? Good to stretch the muscles. I’m not sure of what, exactly, but change keeps you flexible. So this week, it’s about writing. I’ve collected a few comments, suggestions, and questions and I’ll start here:

What is a writer? A writer is, simply, one who writes. Take that a step further. A writer is a person of action, of doing. If you’re not writing, then you’re not a writer. It has nothing to do with being published or how good your stuff is. All of that is left to circumstance and chance and a little bit of talent. If you have a calling to write and you are actively writing, then you’re a writer. End of story.

What if you know you’re a writer, but you just can’t seem to write?

Stop it.

And by stop it, I mean stop not writing, stop making excuses and write something!! It’s that easy. You know how much you need to write a day to qualify as a writer? One word. You need to write a word a day.

The day I moved from being a sometime writer to a novelist happened when my friend Jason took me to task for not writing. “I can’t, Jason,” I said. “I’ve got a baby now. I’m married. There isn’t time for writing.” He didn’t buy it.

“You could probably manage a sentence a day, couldn’t you? I mean, that wouldn’t be too hard would it?”

“I could do a sentence,” I said, thinking, well, duh. A sentence is nothing.

“How about a paragraph?” Jason asked, and I knew I was in trouble. “I mean, I know you and you could probably get a paragraph in a day, huh?”

I thought about it. I could probably swing that. In between taking care of my son and husband and the house and my neuroses, could I write a paragraph a day. I could. I did. In fact, I wrote a page a day for a year. And that’s how I wrote my first book. One blasted sentence at a time.

We come up with all sorts of reasons not to write. Not enough time, no inspiration, no energy, things to do, working too hard on work and love and life and kids.

Steven Pressfield (author of “The War of Art”. Check it out. It’s great) calls all these excuses that we use (procrastination, bad grammar, gout) Resistance. It’s the universe’s way of stepping between the act of being creative. Because remember, writing or art or anything is an action and if something is in action, there will be pressures and forces around it. Something about aerodynamics. Anyway, Pressfield says: “Never forget: This very moment, we can change our lives. There was never a moment, and never will be, when we are without the power to alter our destiny. This second, we can turn the tables on Resistance. This second, we can sit down and do our work.”

If you want to write, then regardless of your grammar or style or topics, you are a writer. You. Are. A. Writer. Now, sit down and do your work. But you only have to sit down for a minute or two.

Now stop complaining, and do it. Every day. Every single day. Write a word. Write a sentence. Connect them. This is how you write books. This is how you transform yourself, one letter at a time.

My challenge to you: If there’s something you want to work on, start with one sentence. Just one. And the next day, write the next sentence. Every day, until you’re in the swing of it, write one sentence. Then when you’re ready, do a paragraph a day. Keep your goal manageable. Don’t say “I’ll write one hour a day.” That’s too big. Start small. A universe, after all, is made up of billions of stars. Each star, though, is a point of light.

I could go on with the metaphor. But you get what I’m saying.

Next up: I’ll talk about publishing and agents etc. Unless you want to hear about something else. And, please, let me know if this is helpful or not.

admin 4/10/10 admin 4/10/10

Breathing

Okay. As often happens, I have a huge tantrum, cry, fuss, throw up (I have a weak stomach), and then the next day I’m fine. So, I’m not in love, in a relationship, dating. Plenty more time for me to focus on being a mom and a good person…and to get things in order. Yep. I’m getting things in order. Working out, working hard, writing. That’s what I’m trying to do. Get things in order. For what? The apocalypse? God, I hope not. Naw. I’m getting my life in order so when something like this happens:

I’ll be ready for it. Plus, this gives me time to slim down. I wouldn't want to give the guy a hernia from having to hold me up.

Universe, yes, you’ve let me down. I forgive you though. You have good things coming for me*. Great things.

*If not, I’ll kick your ass.

admin 4/9/10 admin 4/9/10

Dear Universe: Bite me.

Here's where I throw a tantrum and blame the universe for everything.

Dear Universe,

I say “Universe” instead of “God” because I’m not crazy about the G-word. It’s rather limiting. (So is the…er….G-spot. Still searching for mine) But still. You , Universe, and I need to have a conversation. Don’t worry. I’m not breaking up with you…exactly.

I do need to tell you…Universe, it’s not me. It’s you. It really is. You are the problem. Everyone tells me “Don’t worry so much. Don’t try to find love. Don’t think about finding anyone. When you least expect it, The Universe will provide.”

Who made up these rules? It was the guys who penned the Constitution, wasn’t it? I knew it! I blame them for massive consumerism, bad traffic, and, well, freedom. (One of those isn’t bad). I’ll now blame them for my lack of love life.

I’ve been quiet about this. Trying not to complain. Trying to Be Strong and Independent. Trying to Be Busy and Fulfilled. But sometimes, Universe, I want to smack your face. You heard me. Me. Your face. General smacking.

Why. Why does good love happen to bad people? That’s what I want to know. I try to be a good person, I really do. A caring, sensitive, decent person, and if it’s the extra 7 pounds I’ve gained since December…well I blame you for that too because YOU’RE the one that broke my foot. Figuratively. I fell down the stairs. But I’m certain you were to blame for it somehow because Everything Happens For a Reason.

Bollocks.

Yeah.

I’m so mad I’m going to start swearing like a stereotypical English chick.

Universe…I smite thee.

I don’t know what that means, but it feels good to say it.

See my fist? I’m raising it in the air and gently extending my middle finger. That’s for you, baby. That’s. For. You.

Sincerely and with love and affection,

Tanya

admin 4/8/10 admin 4/8/10

Why Zombies, Aliens & Vampires ARE REAL

I’m going to argue that the following exist: Aliens, Zombies, and Vampires (but I’ve yet to prove that there are any cute, available 30-40-something year old men who want to go out on a date but not meet through the Internet).

This week I’m having my students work on their research papers, MLA style. Everyone hates research papers. It must be a universal law. And I for one hate grading them. So to try and make it at least passably interesting, I told my students that their research papers is to make a ridiculous argument and then support that argument. Turns out, their arguments aren’t exactly ridiculous. They’re interesting. Some topics:

Why I Would Survive a Zombie Infestation

Why I Should Be Batman

Why Time Doesn’t Exist

Why The Existence of Aliens is a No-Brainer

Why Anne Rice’s Vampires Could Kick Stepanie Meyer’s Vampires Asses

This has come to be an assignment I actually look forward to reading. That’s why today I’ll make my ridiculous argument (but without the support. I don’t feel like doing the research). I’m going to argue that the following exist: Aliens, Zombies, and Vampires (but I’ve yet to prove that there are any cute, available 30-40-something year old men who want to go out on a date but not meet through the Internet).

Here’s my theory. I think Zombies, Aliens, and Vampires are real. They’re actual people. Really. Maybe they’re exaggerated for movies and all, but the Zombie-essence if you will is real. Zombies are motivated by one thing: hunger. They go after what they want ruthlessly and attack. These are your basic addicts. Maybe it’s drugs they’re addicted to, or power, or sex, or what have you. They have one goal and they want it.

Vampires are a little more tricky. They are also ruled by desire, but for them, they’re a little more sensual. They’re the dark side of our psyche. They want things, yes, but their hunger is kept hidden, in the shadows, and they want a little romance with their desire. These creatures are real people who have saucy quirks, best explored in the cover of darkness, and hopefully with a willing partner. There’s a little bit of ‘forbidden love’ to them and it isn’t actual blood that they hunger for, but intimacy. And then probably a big old sandwich afterwards.

And I think aliens exist amongst us too. And Superheroes. And mutants. These are the people who are eccentric. They’re weird. They don’t follow all the rules. They aren't traditionally pretty or attractive, but they’re smart. They aren’t afraid to be different. They like it in fact, and many times they’re the people who become real heroes, real leaders. Not politicians, exactly, but maybe artists or teachers or, yes, writers.

I could go on and on, I suppose. What I’m saying is all of these creatures are real, in a sense. They’re us. They’re a new category of a common psyche or desire. And they’re everywhere.

Sometimes I’m a zombie, and I’ve certainly had moments of being a vampire. I’d like to be a vampire right now actually, but sort of need a, uh, neck to bite. Right now, I’m more of an alien, drifting along in the universe, finding my own way. I’m certain there are other creatures out there. Why in my class at Kendall alone I have a Sasquatch, 2 aliens, a few vampires, no zombies, and one gnome. I’m sure he’s a gnome, because sometimes just looking at him, I want to put a hat on him and put him in my garden. Gnomes are generally happy folk, and birds like them.

Just thinking out loud here, people. Just thinking.

admin 4/5/10 admin 4/5/10

While thinking about Jesus and Zombies...

Yesterday, while I was thinking about Jesus…

Okay. I can’t actually finish that sentence without laughing a bit. I’m not a religious gal. I’m really not. While organized religion really works for a good deal of people (and that’s great), I never quite got the hang of it. For me, Easter was always about ham and chocolate rabbits that I’d immediately decapitate with my teeth. But yesterday, I did actually think about Jesus…while taking a short break from listening to “Pride and Prejudice and Zombies”.

I decided to go for a walk. And not just any walk. I decided to walk around Reed’s Lake, all 4.5 miles of it.

It was beautiful out. Birds singing. Sun shining. A slight breeze. The kind of day you expect animated Disney birds to fly out and throw a beautiful gown over your head. So, naturally, as I walked I thought about Easter and then Jesus…and then if I were teaching Easter to my students or my kids, how I’d ask them about the importance of the story. So, a super spiritual guy dies and is super dead. Then he rises up from the grave and now he has even more super powers. He’s almost a deity! Actually, he is a god. (You can tell my Sunday school is really limited.)

I couldn’t quite figure out the meaning of all this, the importance of the story, until I did something crazy. I started running. I ran. And I felt no pain. (Remember that I broke my foot in December? Doctor said I could try running in May, but there might always be a little pain. Sort of like The Mermaid walking on knives.) I ran for four minutes and NO PAIN. And I started laughing this crazy-single-lady laugh. It was a laugh of happiness. Of, dare I say it, rebirth.

If you’re looking at Jesus and Easter and all that jazz as a story, as a parable to understand our own psyches, I love it. We all go through periods of great darkness, of death even, and then with time, we rise up. We are changed, yes, but somehow by going through the pain, we emerge stronger, with more super powers. More god-like if you will.

Do you get what I’m saying?

I think that we live many lives without our lifetime. And we have times of forming a chrysalis. There are times of transition: from child to teen, teen to young adult, young adult to parent, parent to full adult. And it happens during times of crisis: birth, divorce, broken hearts, job losses, depression, etc. These are transformative events and while they are so hard to get through, you’re almost guaranteed to emerge stronger, more connected with people, more…I don’t know…not more god-like I guess. You emerge as a better human.

I could only run four minutes. I didn’t want to push the foot and re-break it. It was enough, though, for me to realize that I’ve come through all of this as hopefully a better person.

I went home. I got to see my kids for a while. I played in the yard with them. I ate cake. I watched “Hot Tub Time Machine”. I listened to a story about Zombies. I even thought about Jesus. If that’s not a day of rebirth, I don’t know what is.

admin 4/1/10 admin 4/1/10

Awkward Moment with AT&T Guy, Narrated by David Attenborough

There are moments when I am transported and suddenly become the star of a wildlife documentary narrated by David Attenborough. This happened just the other day when I was visited by a distractingly cute AT&T guy. Our eyes locked and instantly I heard Mr. Attenborough say: “Look how the female’s pupils have instantly dilated. This is, for sure, a sign of attraction.

Every once in a while, a strange thing occurs in my life. It’s not often, mind you, but when it happens, it reminds me that I am, indeed, alive. And probably fertile.

There are moments when I am transported and suddenly become the star of a wildlife documentary narrated by David Attenborough. This happened just the other day when I was visited by a distractingly cute AT&T guy. Our eyes locked and instantly I heard Mr. Attenborough say: “Look how the female’s pupils have instantly dilated. This is, for sure, a sign of attraction. While the female says inane things like ‘Please. Yes. Hook up my….phone’ the male is keenly aware that she may not be talking about a phone at all. See how his face flushes with red. This is the subtle mating dance of two humans of similar age…and possibly similar histories. Let us observe what happens next.”

Now, before you get excited, I have to go back and set the stage for you.

AT&T guy did NOT show up when I was alone, drinking wine and wearing nothing but a white slip, Blanche Dubois style. Awwww no. He showed up when my ex was there telling me he was going to bring his fiancée to Parent Teacher Conferences because they are a parental unit, even though they’re not married. My kids were running around the house shooting each other with chicken nuggets, and Louis would occasionally grasp my leg and do something that was curiously like some kind of humping dog. “Stop it, Louis. Go do that somewhere else.”

Then entered two young Direct TV installers. They were walking around my house interrupting my ex and I as we had a civil, but horrible, conversation in which my ex told me that I should be seeing a therapist…and then I said: “Hmmm. Really? You really think your choices are all healthy? Let’s examine this. Sometimes, you just piss me off. No, sorry, not you Direct TV, go down to the basement. No, not you, Louis, go into the room. Simone, yes, I love you too. P. Listen to me as I calmly explain how messed up your reasoning is…”

THEN the Distractingly Cute AT&T Guy entered just while I was about to tell my ex that he’s a narcissist. I opened the door. “My, he’s cute,” I thought. He was a beefcake, nice guy type. You know, big guy, but clear blue eyes, speckled gray hair, kind face. “Oh,” I said, “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said.

We stared at each other while David Attenborough cleared his throat and my ex said “And you are?”

If AT&T had had a tie, he would’ve adjusted it. “Oh, I’m here to fix Mrs…”

“It’s Miss,” I said hurriedly, and held up my left hand as proof. Then I looked at my ex and rolled my eyes as if to say “Oh? Him? I’m totally over him.”

So. I finally got my ex to leave, the Direct TV guys to go, and my kids settled down and then I sort of floated into the living room where it seemed to be taking the AT&T guy an awfully long time to install things. Like 45 minutes long. “Is, uhm, something wrong?” I asked.

He was blushing. I could see that. “Man, I’m so stupid, I just typed in your number wrong and it’s right here in front of me and I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Mr. Attenborough knew. “When the male is attracted to a female, all the blood rushes from his brain to his reproductive organs, hence making it difficult to think.”

Then AT&T Guy helped get me connected. To the Internet. Just the Internet. And just as he was leaving he said “Yeah. It’s tough. When I went through my divorce, it took forever to get things changed over.”

“Oh? You’re divorced?” My mind raced frantically. What to do what to do?

“Cool.”

His brow furrowed. Actually furrowed. “Okay then.”

“Yeppers,” I said.

“Okay, if you have any trouble…here’s my card. Any trouble at all.”

“Okay.”

“Bye. Thanks for the, uhm, phone.”

“Okay.”

And then he left. Cue David Attenborough: “Ah, it looks as if there will be no mating between these two. They were unsuccessful in their dance. In time though, in time, it will happen again…if the human species is to be successful.”

Yep. Mr. Attenborough is pretty much a genius. And me? I’m still fanning myself, waiting for that next moment…and, of course, the kindness of strangers.

admin 3/23/10 admin 3/23/10

Painting & My Ghost Self

So..what’s been happening here as I begin the new novel in my life…anxiety. Yep that about covers it. ANXIETY. I probably should take Valium, or at least give up coffee. Giving up coffee would be a good start, but I have this sneaky suspicion that if I give up caffeine, I may spontaneously combust and/or take uncontrollable naps. Narcolepsy, people. That’s what I mean.

Blogging topics are always tough, unless you want to talk about politics or abortion or Justin Biener. Beiber. Weiner. Whatever. It’s a good thing I’m so self-focused I just talk about myself.

Speaking of myself…

Oh. Bad transition.

So..what’s been happening here as I begin the new novel in my life…anxiety. Yep that about covers it. ANXIETY. I probably should take Valium, or at least give up coffee. Giving up coffee would be a good start, but I have this sneaky suspicion that if I give up caffeine, I may spontaneously combust and/or take uncontrollable naps. Narcolepsy, people. That’s what I mean.

Why the anxiety? I’m moving to my new home. I honestly thought this would be a smooth, delightful transition but it’s stressful. I’m floating in some nether world of no-home-ness. I have all my cooking supplies at the new house, and all my food at the old. My computer is at the old, my internet access is at the new. My furniture is at the old, my specter self is at the new. On top of that I’m teaching, taking care of kiddos, practicing yoga (not really), obsessing, not dating (but dreaming of dating), and trying to rewatch all of Battlestar Galactica by Friday.

Why? Why do I give myself impossible deadlines? Because I’m a freak of nature. And it keeps me sane.

I did have a curious thing occur while walking around on my own in my empty house. I saw the ghost of the person I thought I’d be. She was choosing paint with her husband, and then they were in the master bedroom, and she was wearing a bandana and coveralls…because when you paint, aren’t you supposed to wear that kind of outfit? And they were laughing. And then he came over and he kissed her and she told him to get back work. And then they did. And I imagine they made love in every empty room of the house.

Of course, my reality was a bit different. I turned on the 80’s Weekend music, tried to get the paint can open. It was stuck. Cursed having to do it on my own, then got it open. Then I started painting. By myself. Quietly. It was sad and not-sad. And I was wearing a blue t-shirt and jeans. I admit, I wanted to cry a little. I always thought that I’d share my dream home with someone I loved, who loved me, but real-life novels are not like books: they are rarely predictable.

Later, my sister came over. We sang to the radio, we chatted, we high-fived (just once) and then spent waaaaay too long eating at a Mexican restaurant while drinking a gigantic Margarita for Two. It was not the life or the moment I envisioned, but you know, this real life, although way different from my ghost life, has its beauty too.

And my room? It’s earthy awesome. Perfect for me to cocoon up in…and eventually….cocoon up with someone else too. Just, you know, not my sister.

admin 3/21/10 admin 3/21/10

If I could decide what my kids will do when they're grown...

I finish my Week O' Blogs with a question about what I'd like for my kiddos and their future.

Okay. I should’ve done this Friday on my Week O’ Blogs, but I was moving, and I tried to clone myself and have one self move while the other self wrote, but it just didn’t work out.

So, Friday’s question came from another great artist (I’m so lucky to have such talented friends). In fact, I should post some of her stuff here and some of my other friends’ stuff and then you could buy their art. Tangent.

Jane VanderLaan asks: “If you could decide what your kids will do or who they will be when they've grown up, what would it be?”

Now, of course, a mom’s instinct is to say “I will support anything my kids want to do. I will love them for who they are and not try to force them into who I want them to be.” That’s the secret Mom’s Hippocratic Oath. But…that’s not the question Jane asked. She asked IF I could choose, what would I decide.

Hmmmm. A tough one. Well, if I had my choice, they’d both get a good, solid education and get into college and then enroll themselves right away in a program that takes them overseas. I want my kids to travel, to open their minds to the world, and to have a bigger, better life than I’ve had. I have a passport that every ten years I update. My first passport I got at twenty, then updated it when I got married, and will need to update it again now that I’m single…and that passport? Not a single stamp on it. So. First thing is I’d want them to travel.

Louis seems to be interested in science and history. I’d love for him to be a professor or to work in research. Whatever he does, I hope he’ll use his knowledge for the power of good. For real.

Simone seems to like drawing and dance and unicorns and Barbies. It’s still a little early to see where her interests go, but if I had my choice, she’d be a writer or performer. Maybe write and illustrate children’s books.

In all honesty, I don’t care what they do. (There’s that oath again.) My greatest hope for my kids is that the are emotionally strong, that they can be empathetic for others, that they learn how to love and to know that they are beautiful people worthy of love themselves. And I hope they make enough money to have a comfortable life, one that is not weighted with worrying over bills and food and healthcare. Of course, a little struggle when they’re in college and just starting out is good for the spirit.

I just want…I want my kids to be good people, kind, loving, and confident in who they are. I don’t want them to settle in life, but a little compromise is good. I want them to know that I love them just as they are and I am so proud of who they are becoming.

And if they want to take me on one of their world travels, that would be okay with me too. Just saying.

admin 3/18/10 admin 3/18/10

Advice for Aspiring Superheroes

A How To for aspiring superheroes

Today’s question comes from a great graphic designer on Twitter. Check out @magicray . AND he makes amazing balloon animals and creations. I’m not kidding. He made me one for my birthday last year. What’s his question? Ray asks:

“What advice do you have for aspiring superheroes?”

This is a really great question, and at an important time…because right now, I think the world really needs more superheroes. I’m not joking. I mean with a bad economy and general depression feelings and broken hearts and gas pains from too much fast food, we could all use a little rescuing. Here are some bullet points in case you’re thinking of becoming a superhero. (Except I couldn’t figure out how to do bullets so I numbered it instead.)

HOW TO BE AN AVERAGE SUPERHERO

1) Choose a name. Let’s face it: most of the cool superhero names are taken. Don’t despair!! Those superheroes are from other planets or have been transformed by radioactive materials. You don’t want to be Superman or Spiderman anyway. Who wants that much baggage? No, it’s far better to be an average superhero. How do you do it? Simple. You find one thing you’re really good at and then you add Man or Woman to it. See, me, I’m brilliant at mistakes…hence, Blunder Woman. Maybe you make an amazing cookie. Then you could be Cookie Man, or better yet, The Amazing Cookie Man. Or maybe you can do fart noises with your armpit. Armpit Music Woman has a certain ring to it. Just choose the one thing you’re great at and keep it simple.

2) Make an outfit. All superhero outfits require a cape and a mask. Most outfits, especially if you’re a guy require either a unitard or tights. I like men in unitards. They look very awkward and it leaves little to the imagination. Ehm…now I’m distracted. Oh. Right. Just get a cape, a mask and maybe sew on a letter, and you are good to go.

3) Determine your Secret Identity. Your Secret Identity is your day job. Maybe you work at an office, you teach, you cook. It doesn’t matter. Just make sure you wear glasses. When you put on glasses NO ONE KNOWS YOU’RE ACTUALLY A SUPERHERO. That’s cool. Plus, I think glasses are hot. Just in general. Nothing is sexier than someone who’s smart. Unless it’s someone who’s smart, likes to give back rubs, and likes sci-fi shows. That’s on fire.

4) Practice general acts of kindness. Everyone should do this actually. It’s just good people skills. And karma.

That’s really all the advice I have. Being a superhero is hard work, but it’s also rewarding. See, now when I totally embarrass myself I feel good because I know my superpowers are working and the world is in order…and it’s so much cheaper than therapy.

Cheers,

Blunder Woman

admin 3/17/10 admin 3/17/10

In Which I Imagine Meeting Gandalf, C3PO, and The Doctor.

In which I imagine meeting Gandalf, C3PO, and The Doctor

Tim Beeler, an awesome artist (seriously. check out his creepy fun stuff at timbeeler.com) posted today’s question. He writes:

“An old grey wizard, a flamboyant golden robot and his best friend, or a man living in a blue box show up on your doorstep to tell you there's a great adventure waiting for you and you have to leave right now. Do you go?”

Okay. So this is a question that goes straight to my GeekHeart. Do I go? I am out the door!!! Okay. Wait. I’ve got to breathe. Let me think this through. If they all showed up at once, I’d have a heart attack, so let me imagine different scenarios.

Scenario One:

Blunder Woman Meets Gandalf

There is a knock at the door. Blunder Woman doesn’t answer. She’s too busy eating ice cream and watching Battlestar Galactica. The knock is more insistent. A WIZARD, GANDALF, barges into her living room.

GANDALF: There’s no time to lose, no time! Get up, young whippersnapper.

BLUNDER WOMAN: Did you call me young?

GANDALF: I did indeed.

BLUNDER WOMAN: I love you.

GANDALF: There is no time for love. Right now you must save the world from certain destruction! No time to think! You must come now!!

BLUNDER WOMAN: Okay. Just let me update Facebook, Twitter, get a sitter for the kids, call my mom, paint my toes, put on a push-up bra and grab a clean cape and I’ll be right with ya.

END SCENE

SCENARIO #2

BLUNDER WOMAN MEETS C3P0 and MIDGET ROBOT

BLUNDER WOMAN is doing sit ups while watching a BBC romance. There is a strange beeping coming from the front of her apartment. The door swings open to reveal a shining robot and his wee friend.

C3PO: Oh, R2, I am quite sure you did not need to use your photokinetic blastermatron.

R2D2: bebebebebbeeep

C3PO: We haven’t time! We have a message for someone! For…Why, hello there.

BLUNDER WOMAN gets up from her crunches.

BLUNDER WOMAN: Yo.

C3PO: We have an urgent message sent from a galaxy far, far away…

BLUNDER WOMAN: Is Han Solo there?

C3PO: Why, I can’t be sure. R2?

BLUNDER WOMAN: If he’s there, then I’m in, no questions asked. If it has to do with Luke or any of the prequels, sorry. I’m working out.

END SCENE

TANYA MEETS THE DOCTOR

TANYA is in her living room wearing a silky negligee since she’s tired of being Blunder Woman. Her hair is perfect and she’s practically glistening with sex appeal. Hmm. That sounds gross. Let's just say she sparkles like a VAMPIRE. She opens the door to reveal a strange man wearing a trenchcoat, standing in front of a blue phone box.

TANYA: Helllooooo…..Doctor.

DOCTOR: I’m sorry?

TANYA: I’ve been waiting for you.

DOCTOR: What’s this?

TANYA: Oh, let me just take you by the coat lapels like this and then run my hand...

CENSORED BY INTERNET COMMUNITY FOR INNAPPROPIRATE LANGUAGE.

Ahem.

Sorry about that last scene. I was, er, uhm, a little distracted.

In all honestly, if any of these people came to my door, I probably wouldn’t open the door. I hate it when people want to sell me something and I have to hurt their feelings and say no. Better to pretend you’re not actually at home watching Firefly than risk opening the door.

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Got more questions? Please ask. I'm answering serious and/or ludicrous questions alllll week.

admin 3/15/10 admin 3/15/10

What the last year has taught me about marriage and love.

I had to think about this for a while. I’m still not sure that things happen for a reason, though I do believe that we can get meaning from even the most horrible experiences. So what is the meaning of this year for me? What have I learned? I learned to find my voice again.

This question comes from Laura Michels. She is a fantastic actress newly returned to Grand Rapids and performed in the piece I wrote for the GRAM as well as ‘twelve scenes about loving’. She asks: “What has the last year taught you about marriage and love?”

I had to think about this for a while. I’m still not sure that things happen for a reason, though I do believe that we can get meaning from even the most horrible experiences. So what is the meaning of this year for me? What have I learned? I learned to find my voice again. I’ve learned what marriage is not, what it shouldn’t be. I’ve learned that I still believe in love, but I’m still struggling with the fear that it might never happen for me, at least the good kind of love. The kind of love that is balanced and, well, kind.

In my marriage, I thought that to keep P. married to me, to keep the family happy, I had to give up on my self. I mean that. I mean, I gave up on My Self. I gave up on things that made me happy as an individual. I thought being married was sacrificing everything in order to make your family happy. By doing that, I disappeared. I became mute. I was a living ghost. By leaving, I rediscovered that self and now know that though I am flawed, maybe even tragically, or at least melodramatically, I am, essentially human. I’ve learned that everyone is at some point a fuck up. And it’s these flaws that are endearing. Achilles without the flaw in his heel is just another God. With that flaw, he’s vulnerable. He has a heart. He can be loved.

I’ve learned that I have a big heart. I’ve learned that I now know what love is and how to recognize it. It isn’t giving up your self. It’s finding someone who loves and supports you not in spite of your flaws…but because of them.

I’ve learned that marriage should be a partnership. There should be passion, and fights, and times of quiet. There should be support. I’ve learned that a woman has value. She is more than a collection of roles like mother, wife, cook. She is a full person. A person to be treasured. I should have been in my marriage. I was not. I take partial blame because I allowed it to happen.

What I’m still learning is how to be kind to myself. To look at the wrinkles, the silly mistakes, the wonderful blunders I’ve made and to laugh. And there have been nights, alone, in my apartment, where I have turned up the music and I have danced. I have very little rhythm and my body rarely moves the way I want it to, but I have danced. A year ago, I was too afraid to do this.

So. What have I learned? What has this year taught me? That being alone is okay. Loving who I am is okay. Hoping to find a relationship built on trust and compassion and passion is possible. I just have to be a little more patient. I’m working on it. I really am.

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Got another question for me? It can be about anything: serious or ridiculous. I'm blogging all week...if there's an interest. Simply comment here, tweet me, or leave a message on FB. And I'll answer you. I really will.

admin 3/15/10 admin 3/15/10

First Ridiculous/Serious Question of the Week

Hey, RPFangirl, thanks for your insightful question. Here’s the thing. I would love to wear a different cape for every mood I have because I have a lot of them. Moods that is. But, sadly, according to The National Handbook and Rule Book for Ordinary Superheroes (or the NHRBOS) “An Ordinary Superhero is allowed only one costume. 1) Because they’re probably poor and 2) Because....

This week I’m answering ridiculous and/or serious questions about life, dating and cheese sandwiches. In essence, anything you want to ask, I’ll answer. I may even offer advice. What gives me the right to do this? My gigantic pair of cajones. A warning, please don’t actually take any of the advice I may give. I’m a 36-year-old divorced single mom struggling to make it as a writer. I have issues.

Our first question comes from RPFangirl_ on Twitter. She asks:

Do you have different capes for each day of the week or moods?

Blunder Woman’s Response:

Hey, RPFangirl, thanks for your insightful question. Here’s the thing. I would love to wear a different cape for every mood I have because I have a lot of them. Moods that is. But, sadly, according to The National Handbook and Rule Book for Ordinary Superheroes (or the NHRBOS) “An Ordinary Superhero is allowed only one costume. 1) Because they’re probably poor and 2) Because it’s their brand and people must be able to recognize their superhero by clothing alone”. I understand because Super Man in a shiny green leotard with fringe would really be a freak of nature. Or starring in some interpretive dance.

I have a red cape and a red mask. That’s my costume. Here’s how I accentuate…sometimes under the cape I wear a nice black dress and heels. Sometimes a t-shirt, running shorts, knee socks and my favorite brown 1970’d style tennis shoes. Sometimes, ahem, nothing at all. Today, it’s a black t-shirt, jeans and boots. I’m trying to say “Rockstar”, though I probably shouldn’t use jazz hands when I say that.

I don’t really need to change my cape except for washing it. I think anyone paying attention to my face can get my mood just by my facial expression, with the exception of my ex. He couldn’t read me at all and didn’t know that when I said “Everything is fine” I was really saying “I’m entirely miserable and we need to fix this ASAP”. Uh…where was I?

Oh yeah. My cape.