I have no idea if any of you guys are still out there. I hope you’re doing well if so.
I honestly don’t know how “I” am doing.
My mind is so full of news and noise and nothing. I feel this compulsion to stay up to date with information, but really, it’s just the same shit recycled every 60 minutes. I’ve come to realize that it’s a fantastic distraction from the voices swirling in my head.
But I think I’m now prepared to stand still in the silence and listen.
You know those trendy detox diets all the skinny celebreties rave about. The raves that make me want to scream “you’re rediculous” at the top of my lungs. Well, I’ve decided I’m committing myself to an information detox until after the election. Early voting starts in Texas next Monday, Oct. 22. I will walk in, embrace the smell of old church and all the nostalgia that, that brings, select a paper ballot and get my American on.
I need to hear the calm voices in my head again. I miss silence. Crap, I might even meditate.
I’ll pray more for sure.
The meaning of my title? I shut down my AshAtShades Twitter account. For good.
A pebble was lifted.
A few months ago I received an e-mail from the incredible Joann (Laundry Hurts My Feelings) – would I be interested in going to the DFW Writers’ Conference?
Within 10 minutes I had a ticket charged to my credit card. Shocking really, since the last seat-of-the-pants thing I’ve done was cut off all my hair right before my wedding. Usually spontaneity likes to bite me in the rear, but this time she decided to give me a kiss on the cheek.
The amount of writing information, motivation and conversation from this past weekend could fill my Fat Day Jeans and then some, but the one nugget heard over and over again was this – just do it.
Just. Do. It.
I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for so long, scared to let the oxygen in because once that gray matter sputters to life again, I won’t like the thoughts in my head.
Well, to Hell with that.
At the 2013 DFW Writers’ Conference, I will down a shot of tequila or 12 and pitch.
As of today, I have roughly 350 days to pound out 80,000 – 100,000 words, revise those words, and then revise those words again. No problem, right?
Anyone have any great plot ideas?
P.S. A million thanks and love to Joann. I’ve made a friend for life, stalking laws be damned. If you don’t read her you’re a sorry sack of nails. Run to Laundry Hurts My Feelings. Right after you give me a plot.
Good morning my loves.
I guess the rumors were true. Google did screw over non-Blogger bloggers with the removal of Google Friends Connect.
Oh well. List of reasons why I hate that company grows.
A list of things I love? Right now, this woman is on top – Sunday at Adventures in Extreme Parenthood. She started a hilarious series called Special Needs Ryan Gosling. I have always admired her fantastic attitude and real-world view on the ups and downs of parenting children who just happen to need a little more TLC. To be honest, my attitude as of late is not worthy of her link up, but I’m a work in progress.
For those of you visiting for the first time, thanks! The Youngest (turning 6 next week, holy shit) has a rare metabolic disorder called PKU. You know that heel-prick test all newborns get that most parents have no idea why they are doing it and feel really guilty about inflicting such pain on an innocent child just ripped from the womb, yeah, that, that’s what he was blessed with.
Basically, he’s a vegetarian diabetic with a bum liver who has to live his life on deal-a-meal because his protein intake is limited to about 7 grams per day in order to keep his brain healthy, wealthy and wise. For perspective, a typical McDonald’s hamburger found in one of those delectable Happy Meal boxes = 12 grams of protein. It’s a massive pain in the ass, but I hit my knees every night in appreciation for the ease in which we live, for the incredible medical and nutritional staff who keep him happy and whole, for portable scales, and for McDonald’s french fries = 1.3 mg of phe/15 grams of food.
Do not doubt my mad math skillz.
Thanks, babe. I think I will.
For far more funny Ryan Gosling shots, visit Sunday and her awesome crew at Adventures in Extreme Parenting. The perspective might do you some good.