A rare and decadent experience graced its presence in my life this morning. As LittleLady slept and Spitfire played with her car collection, I sipped Earl Grey Tea and watched Motherhood*. Yes, I live motherhood but I'm referring to the 2009 movie starring Uma Thurman and Minnie Driver. Uma's character, Eliza, a former ficion writer now keeps a mom blog entitled the Bjorn Identity and with the never ceasing demands of everyday mommyhood, she sneaks in moments here and there to showcase her thoughts.
Today's post though will not be about this movie, which has the hideous distinction of being one of the worst box office flops in Hollywood history. Instead, I'll focus on what I learned. I learned that taking the time to write doesn't have to be akin to a sacred religious experience. It just has to be a time to say what I want to say.
Which brings me to last night's birthday celebration at TEN restaurant. An ex-colleague, who I hadn't seen in almost a year graciously invited me and my spouse to attend her birthday soiree along with her boyfriend and their friends. Despite the group's mutual interest in talking food, wine, and then wine and more food; that wasn't the focus of the evening. After a fellow partygoer and myself sampled a chicken shnitzel that packed more lemon juice than what could be extracted from an entire lemon tree, we moved from culinary critique and got down to the business of making and building connections. As the Birthday Girl shared with me, there is always a certain feeling of trepidation to mixing groups of friends who are strangers to each other. You just don't know what's going to happen. I can certainly understand her point.
Food being off the ten mark, the chemistry of the group made up for it in spades. Raucous laughter rang out cheerfully as we clinked glasses and shared anecdotes and discussed serious current events such as the goings on of The Situation and Snooki of the Jersey Shore. OK. The truth is I was the only one in the group who watched the show but a the Birthday Girl diplomatically reassured me, even Leonardo DiCaprio watches the fistpumping, hairpoufing Guido/Guidette chronicles of GTL, so I'm in perfect ten company.
Indeed, it seems that I'm blessed with tens all around and am excited for the next opportunity to don stiletto heels, big earrings and dish on life.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
AWOL
With head hung low, cheeks burning red, I shamefully admit that I have been avoiding writing. I've been making the old excuses..too busy, not in the mood, can't think of what to say.
I came across an ex-fellow-Toastmaster's blog today and saw that he was entertaining the notion of writing a book but couldn't get his motivation going to do it. I was intrigued but also very much interested from a selfish viewpoint. I can relate to the lack of motivation. It's my current affliction and I've been avoiding treatment.
I'm even too lazy to contemplate the causes of the lack of motivation but I do recall this piece of advice I've been given over the past few months: writing is a job. I won't always like it. Even if I don't want to do it, I should make an attempt.
Previously I had written about the annoying bus commute from home to workplace and how it was leaving me nauseous, miserable and drained. Well, the technological issues were resolved quite some time ago and I'm now a tele-commuter. Essentially that barrier was removed and still I didn't jump at the chance to hit my blog the second work was over. Yes, I have young children and a spouse but yes, I also know and fully admit that I have opportunities to write, so why don't I?
Could it be the "who cares about what I have to say syndrome?" Perhaps. But ultimately it shoudn't and doesn't matter to me who reads or more accurately, does not read these entries.
I've got an idea going and I'm going to commit it to it as a task. A friend is having a birthday celebration this weekend. I'll write about it. With a task set out in writing, I'll be loathe to not follow through. I can describe what people wore, the food, the drink, the music, the general atmosphere, witty repartee with the waiter etc.
Until Saturday.
I came across an ex-fellow-Toastmaster's blog today and saw that he was entertaining the notion of writing a book but couldn't get his motivation going to do it. I was intrigued but also very much interested from a selfish viewpoint. I can relate to the lack of motivation. It's my current affliction and I've been avoiding treatment.
I'm even too lazy to contemplate the causes of the lack of motivation but I do recall this piece of advice I've been given over the past few months: writing is a job. I won't always like it. Even if I don't want to do it, I should make an attempt.
Previously I had written about the annoying bus commute from home to workplace and how it was leaving me nauseous, miserable and drained. Well, the technological issues were resolved quite some time ago and I'm now a tele-commuter. Essentially that barrier was removed and still I didn't jump at the chance to hit my blog the second work was over. Yes, I have young children and a spouse but yes, I also know and fully admit that I have opportunities to write, so why don't I?
Could it be the "who cares about what I have to say syndrome?" Perhaps. But ultimately it shoudn't and doesn't matter to me who reads or more accurately, does not read these entries.
I've got an idea going and I'm going to commit it to it as a task. A friend is having a birthday celebration this weekend. I'll write about it. With a task set out in writing, I'll be loathe to not follow through. I can describe what people wore, the food, the drink, the music, the general atmosphere, witty repartee with the waiter etc.
Until Saturday.
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