I choose discipline…this week anyway

We must all suffer from one of two pains: the pain of discipline or the pain of regret. The difference is discipline weighs ounces while regret weighs tons.
       –Jim Rohn

So, I’ve been suffering the pain of discipline lately–back working on the edit-from-hell. Sorry haven’t posted here much. Apparently there are only so many useful words in my brain at one time, and I’ve had to use all the good ones working on my novel. All I have left for this blog are goofy ones like…scuttlebutt or blanche or twaddle.

Christmas was nice around here…nice and quiet. Maybe too quiet? I don’t know. Why is it that I really love having a quiet holiday, but then when it’s over it seems like it didn’t really happen? I don’t think I miss the chaos of a relatives-in-town mixed with small-loud-children but I almost miss the feeling of relief when things quieted back down. Maybe I need some chaos to really relish the calm. Or maybe I’ve lost my mind. You decide.

And while you’re making that decision…answer this question:


no good deed goes unpunished

So, I’ve been spending my spare time on the maddening task of trying to copy a painting I did years ago (except on a smaller scale) and it totally sucks ass. The original is acrylic and because I am a master procrastinator, I put off starting it until acrylic was my only option if I’m to have it ready by Christmas. (This is for my daughter…she plans to give it as a gift to someone who had seen and liked the original.)

Nothing like spending hours working with a medium I a hate (after years of working with oil, I have totally lost my acrylic mojo) but also using a frustrating medium on a painting that I’m bored with before I ever put brush to canvas. Did I mention that this whole project totally sucks ass?

But, I love my daughter and it’s the season of giving and all that crap, so I’m happy to do it, damn it! Plus, it has been providing an excellent excuse not to work on the book-edit-from-hell. However, since I hope to finish tomorrow, I will probably have to either go back to working on the book, or come up with some new crazy-ass thing. I’m betting I’ll work on the book, but you can’t completely rule out the crazy-ass thing. This is me, after all.

I hope all ten many of you are well and having a happy holiday season. I may whine about this painting-which-totally-sucks-ass and the novel-edit-from-hell, but not for one minute have I forgotten how blessed that I truly am. My family, my friends, my dogs, my home, my job, my health…blah blah blah… you get the picture. Sigh. It really is all good.

And just because I think this is random and funny and awful all at the same time:

it’s all rainbows and unicorns

So, I had an art teacher five or six years ago who told our class, “You can draw anything you want in this class…but I don’t want to see any rainbows or crying unicorns.”

I will admit that when I picked up a pencil and looked at a blank piece of paper that first day, I really…I mean really, really wanted to draw a freakin’ rainbow and a crying unicorn. I didn’t. of course. I just drew whatever he’d suggested that we work on that first day, but I still remember the feeling of that pencil in my hand, and the grin on my face. God, how hard I had to fight to keep myself from acting like a five year old.

So, is this a silly story about resisting a childish impulse? Or is it an allegory about the string of concessions that is an adult’s life–day after day doing what should be done rather than following a heart’s desire? Or is it just a sorry excuse for a blog post? You be the judge.

I’ll leave you with this:

Happiness isn’t at the end of the rainbow.
Happiness is at the beginning of the rainbow.
Following the rainbow is happiness,
not getting to the end of it.
– Werner Erhard

same song, second verse

The viral adventures continue around here, however we have had a switch from the respiratory system to the gastrointestinal system. Oh, how naive were my complaints about my little cold.

In a Crocodile Dundee-eqsque “Haha…That’s not a knife. This is a knife,” type of move, fate stepped up on Saturday night and said, “That’s not suffering. This is suffering.”

Saturday night, while this virus made multiple attempts to completely empty out my digestive tract, I did have one interesting discovery: If you eat several Mike and Ikes before being struck down by Crocodile-Dundee’s-stomach-virus-from-hell, you will have really pretty rainbow puke the first time you throw-up.

Now really, the funniest thing about the following clip is the funky jive music they start playing when Dundee scares the gangbanger (who happens to look like he just stepped out of an Olivia Newton John video…ha!)

this sucks

When you dance, your purpose is not to get to a certain place on the floor. It’s to enjoy each step along the way.

– Wayne Dyer

I’m not enjoying this week’s dance, my friends. That photo is of an hour’s worth of kleenex…I have a terrible cold, runny nose, body aches…and yes, my face hurts. (Yeah, yeah, I know, it’s killing you.) I’m way too busy wallowing in self pity to get any writing done, even on this blog. Sorry.

I hope all my ten many readers are having a good and healthy week. And please do keep dancing, but don’t ever do this:

the most boring and random blogpost ever

What’s up around here? Well the tree is up and fluffed, but not yet decorated. (You can tell we have an artificial tree…you never need to fluff a real tree. They are naturally fluffy. Like Michael Buble’s hair.)

I had to go in to work on Friday and Saturday. (Be on the lookout for flying pigs, because let me tell you, getting this slacker to the office on a Friday or a Saturday ain’t easy, and I went in both days.)

Sunday, it was cold and rainy, and we went with some friends on a holiday tour of freakin’ huge big, lovely homes (benefiting Children’s Advocacy Center), Did I mention it was cold and rainy? There was even a golf cart ride involved to get to one of the homes. A cold, wet golf cart ride. Then we went out to eat at Chuys which has great tortilla soup, but I hate that my entire body and all my clothes smell bad after eating there. Sorta like when you shop in Abercrombie and Fitch* you come out smelling like Fierce, except at Chuy’s you come out smelling like B.O.**

I warned you this would be boring and I can’t believe you’re still reading. Shouldn’t you be doing a mole check, or plucking some nose hairs or something?

Anyway, I’ve been doing some writing, but not as much as I’d like since other real life stuff keeps getting in the way. Plus, a couple weeks ago I had someone who knows what he’s talking about read my novel (yes that same book I keep saying I’m almost finished fiddling with), and he gave me some very helpful feedback. This was almost as sucky as it was awesome, because he was right about the weaknesses he pointed out, and now that I can see them I need to fix them. Even though I’m amazingly just a teensy bit tired of working on the stupid fucking book.

*Speaking of Abercrombie and Fitch (and those are words I never thought I’d type) from that photo up there, doesn’t Michael Buble look like he could totally be on one of their shopping bags? Just slip that shirt off, honey…I’ll help…

**No, I didn’t sweat at Chuys…I just think cumin smells like B.O., especially when it’s on a shirt. And a sweater. And jeans. And I would add “my hair” but ever since I got the worst-haircut-ever it no longer reaches my nose (even the right side which is about a half-inch longer than the left.) Oh well, last night that was probably a blessing.

Now that this post has throughly toured boring, it’s time for random since I promised both. I’m not a huge Michael Buble fan, but this video made me smile. (And btw, I really like the whole song…so search for Feeling Good by Buble after you watch this and listen to the song–it’s great.