My Nightmare

I've been struggling lately with writing and motivation. The rush of Surrey has faded and now I'm sitting on my ass in my familiar ol' rut.

Last night's dream (nightmare) may have just given me the kick that I need:

I'm at Surrey again. Only this time, I have no money, torn jeans, and a ratty T-shirt that hasn't seen a good day in over 3 years. I'm sitting in the back of the room and Vicki Pettersson is giving her workshop.

I see Beth, Julie, Donna, and Jenny sitting in the front row, but there are no seats left. Hoping not to be noticed, I sit quietly, asking no questions.

Suddenly I realize that I have no story. Nothing to show for the year that has passed since Surrey 2008. Where did the time go? I procrastinated the entire year away, trying to come up with THE story. The familiar feeling of failure slaps me in the face. My stomach drops and I slip out of the room, heading for the elevators. After a 2 hour wait, the doors finally open and I race to my hotel room only to find that my key won't work. I knock at the door and some woman I've never seen before answers. Her name tag indicates that she is a presenter. An author.

Not wanting to wait for the elevators again, I take the stairs down 19 floors, tripping over my shoelaces on the way down and cracking my knee several times.

The front desk personnel are on a break. The lobby is empty. I go outside to smoke and see Jack Whyte. He ignores me. I go back inside and into the lounge. I manage to find some Canadian dollars, but I can't figure out how much to give for a beer.

Thank God my son woke me up at 3:40am! I laid there watching him sleep and thinking: Am I really cut out to be a writer or is this just another dream?

Well, I've decided that whether I'm good enough or not, I'm going to write a story from start to finish and prove to myself that at least I'm not a quitter. The story may suck, but at least I can say that I did it.

Christmas Questions

I got this from Jen Hendren:

Insert your own answers and pass it on to whomever you feel would respond – including the person who sent it to you

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? While I enjoy ripping open presents and watching other people do it, I SUCK at wrapping.

2. Real tree or Artificial? I would rather SMELL a real tree, but the guilt is too much. This year is the last that we will be getting a real tree. Pre-lighted fake tree coming soon...

3. When do you put up the tree? We just put ours up yesterday. Between Destructo and the Chocolate Lab, I'll be surprised if it lasts.

4. When do you take the tree down? I'm into taking it down on New Year's Eve. But it may be knocked over before that - see Question #3.

5. What do you do with your tree after you take it down? Trash man takes it away.

6. Favorite gift received as a child? That's a hard one. I always enjoyed the presents that I received - can't really think of any that I didn't like, but I would have loved to have gotten a remote control car.

7. Hardest person to buy for? My husband, my grandmother, my father.

8. Easiest person to buy for? Destructo. He's a blast to buy for!

9. Do you have a nativity scene? No. See Question #3.

10. Mail or email Christmas cards? Every year I BUY Christmas cards. Guess how many unopened boxes of Christmas cards I have? (15)

11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? It was probably a secret santa gift. Every year my Aunt, Uncle, cousins, grandmother, sister (and her brood), all get together and do this fun little game where we compete for crazy gifts.

12. Favorite Christmas Movie? Hands down, Christmas Vacation. That movie never gets old.

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? HAHAHAHA! I'm going to buy some stuff today, but probably not until the weekend. Which is very much the norm. We suck.

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? I'm sure I've recycled secret santa stuff.

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Cookies maybe. I don't know.

16. Lights on the tree? The more the better.

17. Favorite Christmas song? Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.

18. Travel at Christmas or stay home? Stay home.

19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer's? Of course. I DO have a 2 year old. (g)

20. Angel on the tree top or a star? I prefer an angel, only because the one that my sister and I share came from my Grandmother. This year, I'm stuck with a star.

21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? I'm all for opening ONE on Christmas Eve. I never get to, though.

22. Most annoying thing about this time of the year? The stores. Ugh. On-line shopping ROCKS.

23. Favorite ornament theme or color? I don't have a favorite of either. I like my grandmothers ornaments but we can't put them up this year (again, see #3).

24. Favorite for Christmas dinner? I'm partial to Turkey, but my family always has ham.

25. What do you want for Christmas this year? I want Destructo to experience the magic of Christmas and to pass some of it along to me! I'm just not feeling it this year.

Bookwormed!

Beth tagged me on this:

I'm supposed to open the closest book to page 56 and write down the 5th sentence and then the next 2 to 5 sentences. Then I have to convince 5 other people to do the same. Unfortunately, the only 5 people I would tag on this have already been listed by everyone else.

I'm pretty embarrassed by the book that I have next to me. It's not hard to see why."Life with my sister Madonna" by Christopher Ciccone is by far one of the weirdest, badly written books I've ever read. But, here goes:

When one of my college buddies invites me to spend part of the summer at her parents' home in Darien, Connecticut, I call Madonna and ask her if I can visit her in Manhatten.

She says yes. Moreover, she will take us out to dinner when we get there.

So, my friend and I arrive at the airport, rent a car, and drive out to Fifty-third Avenue in Queens, right by the World's Fair grounds, and end up at the synagogue, a big, wide-open space, still with religious carvings on the walls, but with clothes and instruments thrown all over the place. The whole thing seems a bit sacriligious to me.

I feel the need to justify why on earth I have this book. I was a huge Madonna freak in the summer of 1990. Well, it continued well into 1993, but then it ended. Thank God.

My roommate at Indiana State University, my sophomore year of college lived in Evansville, Indiana. During the filming of "A League of Their Own", her cousin was Tom Hanks' driver and her aunt drove for Madonna. This roommate - who was an awful, self-centered BITCH, asked me if I wanted to go down for the weekend and be an extra in the movie. (She wasn't such a Bitch for this.)

I, of course, was very excited. I had had for some time, this dream that I would be the first (and only) person to write Madonna's AUTHORIZED biography. On the 2 hour drive from Terre Haute to my Dad's house in Belleville, IL every other weekend, I would zone out and imagine my life as her biographer and confidant. I was such a moron. (g)

Anyhoo, we get to the roommate's mother's house and she promptly tells me that she has to go meet her ex-boyfriend, but will be back shortly. Her mother and I stare at each other like deer in headlights for about 3 minutes, then Mom disappears upstairs to her room.

6 hours later, the Bitch still wasn't back. No phone call, nothing. I fell asleep, comforted by my pending foray into the world of Madonna. At 6am the next morning, the Bitch calls and says that she doesn't feel like being an extra and we should head back to school. Joy.

Now - she did do two things that saved me from kicking her in the shins:

1) She took me to lunch in the car that Madonna rode around in. It was a Lincoln Town car and my ass occupied the same space as Madonna's for about 6 minutes. It's an odd thing to be thrilled about, but I was an idiot.

2) On the way back to school, she drove me past the house that Madonna was renting in McCutchinsville. The house sat down a hill, surrounded by a horse fence. We got out of the car, and while I was completely imagining myself jumping the fence and storming the house to tell Madonna that her Biographer had arrived, a security guard drove from the house to the street to tell us that "She said you have to leave".

I looked back at the house and saw a woman in the window. Guess who it was? Yep. The Material Girl herself.

Well, this had me flying for about a week. All was forgiven with the roommate.

Until she made out with a guy I had been seeing for about a month. In MY dorm bed.

Bitch.