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Writing

Writing

Inspire Me: 5 Ways to Beat Writer’s Block

obligatory cheesy stock photo….ha, like people still use pen and paper

I just can’t do it.
There is nothing to come out of me. The experiences that I drew inspiration from have been over-talked, over-analyzed and are simply dried up.
I don’t dream of Los Angeles anymore. I don’t lament in my twenty-something confusion anymore.
I simply live a normal and happy life in Austin, Texas.
This should be something that one can take inspiration from, right? A well-adjusted, healthy, and drama-free life?
Then why do I have writer’s block?

When these sort of times occur in my life, I try to recall a number of steps that help me get out of my rut. Though simple, the exercises below are sure-fire ways to help…and I probably won’t do any of them.

1.) Travel– From the act of getting somewhere to the people and places you see along the way, traveling is always a great way to inspire creativity. Not only do I feel mentally and physically better after getting out of my daily (more…)

March 30, 2011 by
Writing

Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin

I often refer to my blog as the ol’ ball and chain. At the extreme, I equate it to the monster that Dr. Frankenstein lost control of. Gene Wilder’s Dr. Frankenstein that is. If I’m going to be any Frankenstein it’s going to be one with an awesome head of curly hair and pencil mustache. On really bad days, I refer to my blog as an animate object and scream defiant remarks at it.

I whine about my blog because as of lately, she dictates my schedule, has minor control over my emotions and dominates my thoughts. This sounds a little extreme but I made a promise to stick with this blog and I have no intention of backing down. Being an only child with a paternal role model who had over 30 jobs, 35 cars, and lived in 13 different states, it’s often easy for me not to follow through on projects. This is one instance where I haven’t let that happen. I’m committed to my blog and I anticipate a day where a future significant other tells me that I’ve chosen the blog over them.

Since I’ve been (more…)

February 21, 2011 by
Writing

My Blah

Grandma: “How is your blah doing?”
Me: “My what?”
Grandma: “You know, that thing you write on? How is it spelled? B-L-A-H?”
Me: “Oh, you mean my blog?”
Grandma: “A what?”
Me: “A blog! Like ‘log’ with a ‘b’.”
Grandma: “A blog?!”
Me: “Yes!”
Grandma: “What the hell is that?”

She had a very excellent point. What the hell is a blog and why is not called blah?

My mother and grandmother’s behavior has been very ‘blah’-worthy as of lately.
Blahworthy being code word for slowly turning into The Beales.
But instead of dramatic New England accents and dozens of cats looking for attention, we have Jewish nagging and my Grandma’s boyfriend, Lionel- a crusty old man in the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s and looking for attention.

It’s all started with my Grandmother’s horrible back pain. Being the stoic Depression-born woman that she is, Grandma was in complete denial about it. She walked buckled over in pain, near the point of throwing up, but refused to take any medicine. Wait- (more…)

February 17, 2011 by
Writing

Behind the Mask of Googly Eyes and Felt: Finding Balance Between Blogging and Real Life

It was while watching a grown woman brush the hair of a ventriloquist dummy that I realized I may have an obsession with blogging. The show was My Strange Addiction and the episode was about a sassy and pretty (in a “I write messages to myself on the mirror in lipstick” sort-of-way) young lady who has no life outside of caring for her “babies”- a.k.a. nine ventriloquist dummies that she carries around in a suitcase. Her friends and family are concerned that she is spending way too much time with her inanimate buddies and slowly becoming disconnected from the human race. Like most people in denial, she tells them that they just don’t understand and that she is happy with her life. The young woman states, “My babies let me say things I can’t get away with in real life,” so Ms. Fruitcake roams the streets with a puppet stuffed on her fist looking for people to berate. She can hide from the world behind her mask made of felt and googly eyes.

I too may hide behind a mask of felt and googly (more…)

January 12, 2011 by