Friends on the Fly or Come Fly With Me
Okay, that title may not make sense. But, there's this whole thing where I'm trying to hook up with my friends on the fly lately and when I'm flying and I'm trying to get friends to fly with me so I actually get to see people I know. And anyway, that being said, I'm coming to realize that even when I think I'm making sense, it's pretty likely I'm not. Or as in previous entries, I'm just being too honest for my own good and anyone else's and that's something most people aren't comfortable with or are too smart to do. Me? Well, you've probably already come to your own conclusions about that one. And I'll let it go. It will be a first. I know John McQ is breathing a sigh of relief.
Last night, I slept through the night. Which was beautiful. And I woke up at 7am. Even more beautiful. After I woke up, I took a hike, canceled every appointment I couldn't afford, and then made more travel plans. Of course, I also told myself that I won't actually have to go on these trips that I planned. That I will sell some piece of writing or get a lovely job offer or even a marriage proposal and get to stay home. And write. This is my back-up plan. That is all. And then, I proceeded to shut out the world while I rewrote an essay I wrote years ago about *sigh* the ex-convict. I know, could anyone beat any more dead horse's than me? Probably not. I'm hoping someone will find it charming some day. Or at least pay me to stop. I rewrote it to submit to the Modern Love column in the New York Times. It got accepted for publication about 2 years ago and was never published. Welcome to my world's version of acceptance. So today, I cut the living ^$** out of it and plan to send it in tomorrow. I had a little voice in my head tell me I needed to do it when I was in Phoenix. It could have just been the lightning that struck the hotel, but I think it was for real. I'm open to voices. Particularly ones that have a game plan.
The piece is called, "I Dated an Ex-Convict Until He Wanted His Freedom." Of course, I now know the ex-convict just wanted to be free of me because he is currently with someone else-- married, but not. With child. His. Living in a house he bought. So there you go. Nothing says "I don't want to be with you" more than sharing all those things someone said he supposedly didn't want with someone else right after he stopped seeing you. When I dated him, I wanted to be taken to dinner... just once. She's up to twice a week. He must love her. The good thing is that time has given me perspective on things. What was exciting and romantic once, is now just entertaining and sad. And oftentimes, gets sadder. It's a good story, just not more than that. See, I do learn.
Sometimes, I wonder if my life is working as it is simply for the stories. I certainly hope not. I do have an imagination, you know. And I'm not afraid to use it. In fact, I'm more afraid that I'll never get to.
Today I called a manager that my friend met recently at some mixer thing. She mentioned the piece I wrote for "West" to him and he said he liked it. So she asked if he would talk to me. And he said yes. And so I called him. And it was uncomfortable. Only because I got asked all those questions that have answers that basically make me look like a loser. Or a very bad tap dancer. Anyway, even I was at a loss. And didn't want to answer. Any of the questions. Because I'm trying to be positive. And love myself. And all. But I did. Answer them. Honestly. I mentioned the blog. But didn't want to give him the address at first. But then I did. And said "start from the beginning. Which was October, 2005." And that was that.
Then, the manager-- well, he sent me an email. A very nice email. About my writing. And what I had to say. And telling me to keep it up. That he understood. And then he told me a little bit about himself. Which was nice. I love it when people are honest and real (Hence, the ex-convict-- back when that's what he was. Now, he's not that. He's John. And truthfully, I liked him better as an ex-convict-- back when he was vulnerable or maybe I just liked it better when he cared).
All that being said, I'm pushing onward. I leave for Hawaii on Wednesday till Tuesday. Part work/part play. Tomorrow, I have to pack, ship products and I may even brave a bikini wax -- a cheap bikini wax-- which sounds painful, doesn't it? If so, thank God, I'm going to Hawaii. At least there, I can bury more than just my head in the sand.
Last night, I slept through the night. Which was beautiful. And I woke up at 7am. Even more beautiful. After I woke up, I took a hike, canceled every appointment I couldn't afford, and then made more travel plans. Of course, I also told myself that I won't actually have to go on these trips that I planned. That I will sell some piece of writing or get a lovely job offer or even a marriage proposal and get to stay home. And write. This is my back-up plan. That is all. And then, I proceeded to shut out the world while I rewrote an essay I wrote years ago about *sigh* the ex-convict. I know, could anyone beat any more dead horse's than me? Probably not. I'm hoping someone will find it charming some day. Or at least pay me to stop. I rewrote it to submit to the Modern Love column in the New York Times. It got accepted for publication about 2 years ago and was never published. Welcome to my world's version of acceptance. So today, I cut the living ^$** out of it and plan to send it in tomorrow. I had a little voice in my head tell me I needed to do it when I was in Phoenix. It could have just been the lightning that struck the hotel, but I think it was for real. I'm open to voices. Particularly ones that have a game plan.
The piece is called, "I Dated an Ex-Convict Until He Wanted His Freedom." Of course, I now know the ex-convict just wanted to be free of me because he is currently with someone else-- married, but not. With child. His. Living in a house he bought. So there you go. Nothing says "I don't want to be with you" more than sharing all those things someone said he supposedly didn't want with someone else right after he stopped seeing you. When I dated him, I wanted to be taken to dinner... just once. She's up to twice a week. He must love her. The good thing is that time has given me perspective on things. What was exciting and romantic once, is now just entertaining and sad. And oftentimes, gets sadder. It's a good story, just not more than that. See, I do learn.
Sometimes, I wonder if my life is working as it is simply for the stories. I certainly hope not. I do have an imagination, you know. And I'm not afraid to use it. In fact, I'm more afraid that I'll never get to.
Today I called a manager that my friend met recently at some mixer thing. She mentioned the piece I wrote for "West" to him and he said he liked it. So she asked if he would talk to me. And he said yes. And so I called him. And it was uncomfortable. Only because I got asked all those questions that have answers that basically make me look like a loser. Or a very bad tap dancer. Anyway, even I was at a loss. And didn't want to answer. Any of the questions. Because I'm trying to be positive. And love myself. And all. But I did. Answer them. Honestly. I mentioned the blog. But didn't want to give him the address at first. But then I did. And said "start from the beginning. Which was October, 2005." And that was that.
Then, the manager-- well, he sent me an email. A very nice email. About my writing. And what I had to say. And telling me to keep it up. That he understood. And then he told me a little bit about himself. Which was nice. I love it when people are honest and real (Hence, the ex-convict-- back when that's what he was. Now, he's not that. He's John. And truthfully, I liked him better as an ex-convict-- back when he was vulnerable or maybe I just liked it better when he cared).
All that being said, I'm pushing onward. I leave for Hawaii on Wednesday till Tuesday. Part work/part play. Tomorrow, I have to pack, ship products and I may even brave a bikini wax -- a cheap bikini wax-- which sounds painful, doesn't it? If so, thank God, I'm going to Hawaii. At least there, I can bury more than just my head in the sand.
posted by jodypwrites | 5:48 PM
1 Comments:
Thanks for the mention, Jody. You make it sound like I was giving you the third degree. I certainly hope that wasn't the case. Yes, I continue to read your blog and am becoming quite enthralled (enamored?) with your style, although I must confess that you sometimes come across so, how do I say? - sad.
I do you hope you have a fun time in Hawaii. It's been years since I've been there. I also noticed that you visited Virginia. That's where I grew up - in Reston - about five miles from Dulles airport. And where my parents and brothers all still live.
Let's talk when you return...
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