Writer's Workshop--Letting My Inner Self *Sparkle*

Popping in for MamaKat's Writing Workshop. I think it is my favorite day of the week now. If you aren't playing yet, you seriously should. (Hook up with the link at the bottom). My prompt I chose this week is "People would be surprised to learn that..."

So here goes.

Gulp.

Confessional time.

I make fun of Stephenie Meyers and the Twilight series all the time. We've all probably heard the negative downsides to this story girls have become obsessed over. Such as.
You should never be happy if a guy sneaks into your room at night and watches you sleep.
Killing yourself is not an acceptable way to deal with a break up.
Stringing along a perfectly nice, innocent guy makes you sort of a prick.

Etc. Etc.

So the Confession.

Deep Breath.

People would be surprised to learn that...I love the Twilight series. And not just the books either. I like the movies too. AHHHHHH! I can't believe I just admitted it. Out Loud. And in front of the whole fifteen people who actually read my blog. :-)

I can't help this weird thing about me. I've tried to NOT like it. I've looked at it intellectually and I know the "bad things". I still like it. I'm sorry. But I am a writer and over the age of thirty AND I like Twilight books. I know it is tantamount to being friends with rich people, eating cavier with them...but craving a hot dog. Or being friends with people who work out, and going running with them and then hurrying home to lay on the couch the rest of the day.

I hang out with great writers and literary people, but I crave the silliness of Sparkling vamps and buff werewolves.

Wow. Liberating. I feel like I just attended an AAA meeting and announced I have a drinking problem. Whew.

In my defense...

1. How can you say Stephenie Meyers is not a good author when millions of people have read and become obsessed over her story. The woman knows how to invoke emotion, obviously, and if you can get people to "feel" your story that much...you've done something right.
2. You don't have to have throbbing, pulsating body parts and nakedness for something to be sexy. I'm just sayin'. . .
3. Who doesn't want a man who would do anything for you. I'm not saying that Bella is worth saving (because frankly, she isn't). I'm just saying that I think people in general are in love with the idea of being "in love". With THAT person. Who loves you SO MUCH they can't stand to be away from you.

And that's it. My whole PATHETIC excuse. I know that right now some people of gasping, clutching their hand to their heart in shock. BUT. . . I had to be honest. Here is my proof. These are all pictures from a 'Breaking Dawn' release party I went to. (I know. I know. I think less of myself too.)





So. Awkwardness. Ummmmm. If you see me, can you just act like you didn't read this? Let's just kind of pretend it's like you accidentally caught me in my undies, AND NEVER SPEAK OF THIS AGAIN. Thanks. :-)

Dear Diet Coke,

I miss you. I know we broke up a week ago, but I can't get you out of my mind. Your bubbly goodness and semi-sweet taste really brought something to my life. I loved the way you burned my throat as I swallowed you down, and didn't get sticky when I spilled you on the kitchen floor. I wish we could get back together. The headache is killing me.

BUT

We can't.


I know. It's sad. Believe me, it's me. Not you. I am far too addicted to you. And you and the fifteenpoundsI'vegainedinthelastyear's personalities clash. You make me crave sweet things and sweeter things and the things that are sweetest. The fifteen pounds makes me crave being thin and beautiful and the kind of person that people look at and say "wow that girl is hot i wish i could be her." Not Good.

So.

I'm Sorry.

We won't be making up anytime soon. Don't hate me. I'm being strong. I'm eating carb-free. I'm exercising. I'm taking vitamins. And don't worry. Some day soon, I'll be breaking up with those fifteenpoundsigainedeventhoughididn'trealizeituntilitwastoolate, too.

Unfaithfully yours,
Margie

Written for MamaKat's Writer's Workshop. Want to Link up...go here

Busy

You know how sometimes you just get busy?

Planning family reunions?
Shopping with friends for eight hours straight?
Cleaning the storage room you've pretended doesn't exist for years?
Getting in fights and making up?
Playing Wii with the kiddies?
Sleeping an extra two hours every day?
Making breakfast, lunch, AND dinner (I hate when school isn't in session)?
Online shopping with the gazillions of Semi-Annual sales going on right now?
Filtering a years worth of receipts you kept because you can't remember why?
Eating trail mix?
Consuming large amounts of Diet Coke?
AND
Working on a story re-write a year and half in the making?

Yeah?

Me too.

That's the kind of week I've had.

(Planned on blogging more...but just had other stuff to do. Catcha next week.)

Mama Kat's Writers Workshop - Before I Was a Mom. . .

I have beautiful children. They are perfect, wonderful, superb, amazing...okay, so I'm kind of lying. They are not always angelic. All right, they are seldom angelic. Because of this, there are many things I do now that would make people question my sanity on many levels. I didn't do these things before I had children.

BUT I do them now.

THE UNFINISHED SENTENCE
Before I had children, I used to have phone conversations. They went something like this.
"Hi"
"Hey, How are you doing?"
"I'm doing fine. You know I was pondering the creation of the universe yesterday and concluded...yada yada yada" (Sure. That's what I said. I'm philosophical like that. Haha)

Since I've had children, the phone conversation goes more like this
"Hi--AJ put that down. No! Put that down."
"Margie is that you? Are you doing okay?"
"I'm great. I'm doing fine. You know, I was pondering--Micks I said you couldn't go to your friend's house. No it's not a discussion. I said No!...oh, and how are you?"

You see what I'm saying. Right? I don't think I've had an uninterrupted phone call for eleven years (the age of my oldest child)

GROCERY STORE GRAND PRE
I don't just shop anymore. Nope. Never. A trip to the grocery store--at least for me--involves snatching, manuevering, and swatting hands. This means, I come to the cereal isle. I take a deep breath. I scope out the box of Special K I need and make my plan. Then I take off in a quick run/walk. Grab the box I need in drive-by mode. Say "No" to the Lucky Charms, CocoPuffs, Fruit Loops, Cookie Crisp, Disney Cars (yes, they are even capitolizing on the cereal market now), Sugar Wheels, etc. etc. and make it to the end of the isle.
Before I had children, I compared prices. Now I make my list and make a run for it. It's the only hope if I'm not to leave with a grocery cart full of chocolate chip cookies and Trix Yogurt.

PLAYLAND DINING
Growing up, I never wanted to have any children. I wasn't a "babysitter". I never asked to "hold other peoples babies" at church. My experience with kids was more along the lines of screaming infants in the line at the store and children begging for cookies at the bakery.
I would eat at McDonalds or Carls Jr. in the 'Grown-up' section and look at the mothers eating in the play area with disgust. To me, a McDonald's Playland was just a colorful, more germ-ridden version of Hell.
NOW? I eat there all the time. Granted I keep the hand santizer on ready-pump, but I found out that it won't kill you to eat food next to little kids in bare feet. At this point, I can even ignore the ear-splitting squeels of laughing children and enjoy my burger and fries. :-)

ITS NOT ALL BAD...I'm not kidding. There are many things that I can do now--as a mom--that I couldn't do before.
1. Be excited to go to Toy Story 3. If I didn't have kids, this would be weird. Since I have them, I can BE excited. It's allowed.
2. Skip through Disneyland. Let's face it. I want to anyway. Now I can pretend it's for them.
3.Jump on the trampoline. If I didn't have kids, I'd have no excuse for having one of these. Let alone, jumping on it.
4. Play video games. I have a love affair with Mario. Since I have a pre-teen son, this is okay. It even makes me a cool mom.
AND
5. Collect all the toys I didn't get when I was a child. For instance, I wanted all the Strawberry Shortcake dolls when I was little and didn't get them. NOW...as a parent... I can buy them for myself and say they are for my daughter. (isn't that win-win?)

Overall, I have to say that I have NEVER--In My Whole Life--regretted becoming a parent. Sure there are ups and downs. Downs being staying awake all-night-long with a barfing child. Ups being hugs and my kids saying "You're the best mom in the whole world" (right before they ask me for something).

Before I was a mom...I was selfish. I didn't understand true love. I didn't know who I was.

AND NOW?

I Do.

Want to play along? Cause you really should? Go to Mama Kat's and hook up!Press here:

Tip My Hat Tuesday--For the first and probably only time

In navigating this blogging world, I've seen so many day of the week posts. Manuscript Mondays, Wordless Wednesdays, etc. I've always wanted to get to the point of posting something every single day and having each day dedicated to something specific.

HOWEVER

I'm so NOT good at that. Anything that I HAVE to do every day becomes a job and I didn't start blogging because I wanted another full time job. I started blogging because I like to write. So far, writing is my hobby . . . NOT my job. And until I make a million dollars from it, I fear it will remain that way.

TODAY I am beginning a days of the week thing. But not posting every day, every week. Just off and on. I've decided Tuesdays will be my day to praise, pedistal-ize, and otherwise worship something that I love. I call it 'Tip My Hat' Tuesday.

This Tuesday, I'd like to TIP MY HAT to a very special group of people who have basically changed my life--or at least have given me permission to 'have a life'.

WRITERS CUBED

Writer's Cubed is my writing group. I met these wonderful people at a community writing class I spur-of-the-moment signed up for about a year-and-a-half ago. Until that point in my life, I assumed it was my duty to be a "Working Mom". Because I worked all day, I was REQUIRED to stay home with my children every night. It was what was fair to them. In retrospect, it made me grumpy, resentful, and otherwise a major Bee-otch.

I had always loved writing and finally decided to do something about it. I took this class. I sat through every session, not saying a single word. *Cause that's how I roll*. At the end of the sessions, one wonderful person (Jen :-)) mentioned starting a writing group and put her number up there.

I immediately signed up and from that moment on--MY LIFE CHANGED. It was okay for me to work full time, take care of my children, AND do something for myself. It started as a once a month thing--then became a bi-weekly thing--and is now a once a week thing. This is great for me because. . . I LOVE THESE PEOPLE.

They are witty, funny, a little crass (so much like me), and very supportive. They think like writers, and totally get when I point out that the empty warehouse downtown could possibly be a portal to another world. (haha). As a matter of fact, they wouldn't hardly bat an eyelash if I did say something like that (sort of).

I also love that we don't limit ourselves to discussing only writing. Movies, life-stories, politics, the use of Red Bull as a stimilant, and the fear on people's faces have all been discussed and analyzed...and that is completely AWESOME with me.

Basically, they are my support network for life. And that is why we are Writers Cubed. A cube is equal on every side, at any one time any side can be the base, and multiplied together we are three times more than we could ever be alone. And so I

TIP MY HAT to these people. My friends.

Thanks for your support and encouragement.

Now it is your turn to tip your hat to someone or something you love in your life. Who is your support network? Who lifts you up when you want to discontinue trying? Give them a SHOUT-OUT now! :-)


BTW, Writer's CUBED...We REALLY need to get a new picture taken. :-)

May I Vent For a Moment?

This is Me (Yes, it is the tiniest swimsuit picture I could find)This is what the world says I should beDoes anyone see anything wrong with this?

Okay. So I went for my first full on bikini/leg wax today. What the EFF? Do we women honestly do this stuff to ourselves on purpose? Is it some greater conspiracy of self torture and mutilation? An ends to make sure others are in more pain than the rest of us? These are all questions I had as I sat in the waiting room, contemplating getting my hair pulled out follicle by follicle.

This is what I decided.

Mankind, in general, is against anything that is natural. Let me explain.

HAIR.
WE HAVE HAIR! WE are BORN with it. There must be some purpose for having it. Maybe protection from the elements, proof that we are part animal, or something. So what does society tell us is wrong?

To HAVE HAIR!

Why?
Why is this?
I don't know. All I know is that I sat calmly by as I was tortured for an hour and ten minutes (yes, that is how long it took) all the while cussing and freaking-freak-freakering in my mind.

SKIN COLOR
I am naturally white. I CAN'T HELP IT. My lineage is from northern Europe. No one in my family--since the beginning of time--has been able to tan. In fact, we are the opposite of tan. We freckle. Not just sprinkles across our nose either. I'm talking full freckle frontal attack. So what does society say I should be?

TAN of course.

Because of this, I went and had my first fake tan ever last year. I stunk. My clothes turned orange. And after a day at the beach, all the fake orange-ness washed off my feet and ankles, making me look like I hung out at the beach in tube socks most days. It wasn't fair. I can't help it if I DON'T TAN.

Yet I paid the money, I exfoliated, and stook with my arms out like a scarecrow for fifteen minutes as a woman I'd never met sprayed liquid onto my nakedness.

WEIGHT
Look back through my family tree. I'm talking clear back to my Great Greats. They were all chubby (at least the women were). Even my grandmother who starved and practically died crossing the plains was a bit on the plump side. Spare tires, chunky cheeks, thunder thighs. . . it's all there baby. YET. What am I supposed to be? That's right.

A SIZE ZERO. ZERO!

I don't think this is possible. I think that even if all I had left were skin clinging to bone that I could wear a size zero.

And so I say-- IT IS FRUSTRATING!

Why must I be skinny, tan, and hairless when it is entirely against my genetic makeup to be so?

I do not have the answer to this question. I'm just saying. . . IT SUCKS!

There.

POINT MADE.

I guess I'll go eat some leafy greens, while getting fake baked, and having my face tweezed. Because this is my way of RAGING AGAINST THE MACHINE. I conform to it.

But what about you?

What do you do to RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE?