The fact that I'm not posting much on this blog is not news. The fact that it will continue so even though I am a writing fiend at the moment perhaps is. I have a lot of ideas for posts, but whenever I have an extra hour to write, I spend it on my fiction rather than this blog. If anyone wants to donate $250,000, tax-free to my cause - to pay off all the debt necessary to allow me to live solely on my husband's salary - then I'd have the time to split writing energy between the blog and the work I expect to one day sell.
I am thinking about the blog though. I've been thumbing through Jeff Vandermeer's BOOKLIFE: Strategies and Survival Tips for the 21st-Centurey Writer. I know that, especially if I'm to self-publish, the blog will eventually have to come out of hibernation. Then, it will have to be crafted and directed, not just exist as a pasture of wildly running thoughts. I don't have any inspirations yet as to what my writer persona will be.
Those of you who've known me for a long time, I'm happy to consider your suggestions.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Saturday, November 14, 2009
I am Done - an outrageously long rant
So, I’m writing again. Finally. Geez, it only took two years. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that several people from my past have reached out to me recently, some have even taken a gander at this site to see how I’m doing. It’s not a coincidence ‘cause astrologically, it’s a good time to make a big change in my life. Plus, I haven’t really given much thought lately to where I am. Haven’t navel gazed, if you can believe that. If I could have gotten someone to pay me to navel gaze, I’d be rich for the pathological heights which my past navel gazing reached.
So where am I?
As you know, after 18 years as a mostly single artist of some type or another living in New York, almost everything about me changed in a relatively short period. I think that during that transition, I shut a part of myself off with a promise that once I get “settled” I would return to my regularly scheduled navel gazing. And this blog is nothing if not about navel gazing.
“Settled” however included getting hired in my new career as an attorney, which hasn’t happened yet, even though I’ve been a graduated and admitted attorney for going on three years now. For two years I kept my eye on that prize without journaling, meditating, none of my normal practices that keep me centered. And I’ve paid a price for it. I’ve swollen up about 40 pounds and now feel like I’ve wasted five years and $120,000 of my life and energy for nothing – struggled for, as yet, no reward, and with none in future sight.
If that ain’t the fertile ground from which artistry springs, I don’t know what is.
Since this past summer, I’ve been slowly returning to myself. Started journaling. Started “therapy.” Meditate more often than not. Drink less. Still eat a lot, but started a boot camp to get me back to the gym for the first time in over a year.
What it’s done is given me the courage to tell the legal profession to fuck off. I actually hate it. My experience of it has been of pompous old white men engaged in "Inflate-the-Ego" with each other. Not that there isn’t some genuine collegiality involved as well. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate the law or even necessarily lawyers. I hate what our culture has turned the law profession into. Private practice, with its needy, life-draining and potentially crazy clients, scares me. Corporate practice is a joke – General Counsel are mostly (bad) managers spending shareholder money on outside counsel who do all the heavy legal lifting. And the gates to high-level, research, writing and policymaking jobs are so well-guarded, I’d have to go back to my birth – fake my birth certificate and all my educational degrees dating back to grade school – in order to even get someone to talk to me on the phone for those handful of jobs. Either that or pretend to be more of a minority than I actually am.
Though I sound bitter, I’m actually not. My spiritual practices have put me back in touch with my resiliency, which a former therapist has told me is my unique strength. Telling the legal profession to fuck off has done wonders for my mental health. And I’m writing again, with a vengeance. And I have a writing partner. And I am registered for a couple of writing seminars here and there. I will have, if not a full novel, at least a novel-sized anthology of short-stories ready to publish by next spring. And I have a plan. I will self-publish.
I am DONE with gatekeepers and everything, and every and any one who has or will ever tell me “no.” I do not know that word. You can all fuck yourselves. I haven’t accomplished all that I have by listening to anyone who’s told me “no.” I don’t see a need to start now. The legal profession, not I, suffers for this change in my heart. Because if the world needs anything, if America needs anything, it’s more ethical, compassionate and nuanced attorneys. But it’s too late. That profession has been captured by peacocks and muckrakers, and I’m not going to waste a second more of my time “Yes’m”ing another old white guy who graduated from Georgetown/Yale/Harvard/Name-Your-Ivy League-Legacy-Concerned-Only Law School-Here (because we know that the best way to develop the pool of good lawyers in America is to admit into the top law schools, just because their forebears attended them, their less than talented offspring).
Instead, I will write. And I, not you, or you or you or you or you, will express myself to the world. And I will control Who I am and What I do. And I will give to this Planet and I will make a difference. So take it and shove it up your cornhole you bastards.
The irony of all of this is that, now that I don’t want an attorney position, I’m most likely to be offered one. And one that would, no doubt, compete with my time for writing.
Stay tuned true believers.
So where am I?
As you know, after 18 years as a mostly single artist of some type or another living in New York, almost everything about me changed in a relatively short period. I think that during that transition, I shut a part of myself off with a promise that once I get “settled” I would return to my regularly scheduled navel gazing. And this blog is nothing if not about navel gazing.
“Settled” however included getting hired in my new career as an attorney, which hasn’t happened yet, even though I’ve been a graduated and admitted attorney for going on three years now. For two years I kept my eye on that prize without journaling, meditating, none of my normal practices that keep me centered. And I’ve paid a price for it. I’ve swollen up about 40 pounds and now feel like I’ve wasted five years and $120,000 of my life and energy for nothing – struggled for, as yet, no reward, and with none in future sight.
If that ain’t the fertile ground from which artistry springs, I don’t know what is.
Since this past summer, I’ve been slowly returning to myself. Started journaling. Started “therapy.” Meditate more often than not. Drink less. Still eat a lot, but started a boot camp to get me back to the gym for the first time in over a year.
What it’s done is given me the courage to tell the legal profession to fuck off. I actually hate it. My experience of it has been of pompous old white men engaged in "Inflate-the-Ego" with each other. Not that there isn’t some genuine collegiality involved as well. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate the law or even necessarily lawyers. I hate what our culture has turned the law profession into. Private practice, with its needy, life-draining and potentially crazy clients, scares me. Corporate practice is a joke – General Counsel are mostly (bad) managers spending shareholder money on outside counsel who do all the heavy legal lifting. And the gates to high-level, research, writing and policymaking jobs are so well-guarded, I’d have to go back to my birth – fake my birth certificate and all my educational degrees dating back to grade school – in order to even get someone to talk to me on the phone for those handful of jobs. Either that or pretend to be more of a minority than I actually am.
Though I sound bitter, I’m actually not. My spiritual practices have put me back in touch with my resiliency, which a former therapist has told me is my unique strength. Telling the legal profession to fuck off has done wonders for my mental health. And I’m writing again, with a vengeance. And I have a writing partner. And I am registered for a couple of writing seminars here and there. I will have, if not a full novel, at least a novel-sized anthology of short-stories ready to publish by next spring. And I have a plan. I will self-publish.
I am DONE with gatekeepers and everything, and every and any one who has or will ever tell me “no.” I do not know that word. You can all fuck yourselves. I haven’t accomplished all that I have by listening to anyone who’s told me “no.” I don’t see a need to start now. The legal profession, not I, suffers for this change in my heart. Because if the world needs anything, if America needs anything, it’s more ethical, compassionate and nuanced attorneys. But it’s too late. That profession has been captured by peacocks and muckrakers, and I’m not going to waste a second more of my time “Yes’m”ing another old white guy who graduated from Georgetown/Yale/Harvard/Name-Your-Ivy League-Legacy-Concerned-Only Law School-Here (because we know that the best way to develop the pool of good lawyers in America is to admit into the top law schools, just because their forebears attended them, their less than talented offspring).
Instead, I will write. And I, not you, or you or you or you or you, will express myself to the world. And I will control Who I am and What I do. And I will give to this Planet and I will make a difference. So take it and shove it up your cornhole you bastards.
The irony of all of this is that, now that I don’t want an attorney position, I’m most likely to be offered one. And one that would, no doubt, compete with my time for writing.
Stay tuned true believers.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Point Well Taken
A thought below echoing part of my thesis on corporate ethics. I've been flamed on other blogs for even mentioning that there's another alternative to the zero-sum game. It's nice to know I'm not the only crazy person out there. And this other crazy person gets paid to have opinions. Imagine that.
"Whatever the truth is about the relative pros and cons of paid sick days, the key word to pay attention to in Schmitt's post is 'optimal.'" In economic policy debates, we too often pretend we are operating in a zero-sum game. Stimulus is either totally unwarranted government waste or a Keynesian magic bullet. Government health care is either socialism, or should be included in the Bill of Rights. Patent protection for new pharmaceutical blockbuster drugs should be eternal, or shouldn't exist at all. Far too rarely does the debate focus on figuring out how to 'set the optimal level' -- what kind of stimulus is most productive, what's the best health care in terms of cost effectiveness, just how long should a patent be enforceable?"
- Andrew Leonard, Salon.com
[Ed. - 1 - It's been so long since I blogged regularly that it took me 20 minutes to remember how to link. 2 - The full article wasn't at that link anymore.]
"Whatever the truth is about the relative pros and cons of paid sick days, the key word to pay attention to in Schmitt's post is 'optimal.'" In economic policy debates, we too often pretend we are operating in a zero-sum game. Stimulus is either totally unwarranted government waste or a Keynesian magic bullet. Government health care is either socialism, or should be included in the Bill of Rights. Patent protection for new pharmaceutical blockbuster drugs should be eternal, or shouldn't exist at all. Far too rarely does the debate focus on figuring out how to 'set the optimal level' -- what kind of stimulus is most productive, what's the best health care in terms of cost effectiveness, just how long should a patent be enforceable?"
- Andrew Leonard, Salon.com
[Ed. - 1 - It's been so long since I blogged regularly that it took me 20 minutes to remember how to link. 2 - The full article wasn't at that link anymore.]
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Wow, a lot has changed
About four times a year I am awed by something that rubs my face in the passage of time. Reviewing receipts while preparing my taxes is usually one of them. "Oh yeah, I remember that dinner. That was the night schmuck-face broke up with me and stiffed me with the bill." "Oh, yeah, that was the gift I purchased for my mother that she promptly returned to the store." Not that there's anything wrong with that.
It might come as a shocker but I haven't been writing much on the blog lately. Shhhhh. Don't tell anyone else. I'm revealing this to you and you only. Even today, I only logged on to transfer into Word some fiction I wrote last November...Jesus Christ no. It was 2007. 2007. WHY CAN'T I CAPITALIZE NUMBERS???!!!! So long as I was already logged on, I tooled around a bit on my dashboard - cleaned up my links and sighed in disappointment at how little value this blog's contributed to the Blog-O-Sphere these past two years.
Some bloggers are still here; some have closed down; some have sold out. Me, I'm just struggling with the same old challenges - abundance, fulfillment, trust. You know, the usual. And while I've been struggling with that in the non-pixilated world, the Blog-O-Sphere has been changing without me.
It might come as a shocker but I haven't been writing much on the blog lately. Shhhhh. Don't tell anyone else. I'm revealing this to you and you only. Even today, I only logged on to transfer into Word some fiction I wrote last November...Jesus Christ no. It was 2007. 2007. WHY CAN'T I CAPITALIZE NUMBERS???!!!! So long as I was already logged on, I tooled around a bit on my dashboard - cleaned up my links and sighed in disappointment at how little value this blog's contributed to the Blog-O-Sphere these past two years.
Some bloggers are still here; some have closed down; some have sold out. Me, I'm just struggling with the same old challenges - abundance, fulfillment, trust. You know, the usual. And while I've been struggling with that in the non-pixilated world, the Blog-O-Sphere has been changing without me.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Retrospective
Yesterday was my 1 year anniversary at my current job. Feels more like I was a partner in a struggling upstart than a new employee joining a well established corporation.
Coincidentally, I admitted to my husband this past weekend that Boston really isn't the town for me. I've been here close to two years now (including the time I spent studying for and taking the Bar exams) - I think that's enough time to know whether a place is right for me. I just can't make it work here.
What next what next?
Coincidentally, I admitted to my husband this past weekend that Boston really isn't the town for me. I've been here close to two years now (including the time I spent studying for and taking the Bar exams) - I think that's enough time to know whether a place is right for me. I just can't make it work here.
What next what next?
Sunday, January 25, 2009
I am completely uninspired
You know that feeling you get, when you think something is one way, but then someone bursts your bubble and you find out it wasn't the way you thought it was at all? Like, you think people like you but then you find out they've just been making fun of you all along. Or like, when you think a relationship is special, but then you find out that the guy was just on the make.
That's how I feel right now. Not for any particular reason, or due to any particular event. I just feel like, "what's the use?" Really let down and ripped off.
That's how I feel right now. Not for any particular reason, or due to any particular event. I just feel like, "what's the use?" Really let down and ripped off.
Monday, January 12, 2009
If It Is Your Destiny to Be this Laborer Called a Writer
"Sometimes when you no longer see yourself as the hero of your own drama, you know, expecting victory after victory, and you understand deeply that this is not paradise, ... we somehow embrace the notion that this vale of tears, that it's perfectable, that you're gonna get it all straight.
I found that things became a lot easier when I no longer expected to win. I tried to put this into that song called 'A Thousand Kisses Deep,' you know, where you understand that you abandon your masterpiece and you sink into the real masterpiece."
-- Leonard Cohen, from I'm Your Man
I found that things became a lot easier when I no longer expected to win. I tried to put this into that song called 'A Thousand Kisses Deep,' you know, where you understand that you abandon your masterpiece and you sink into the real masterpiece."
-- Leonard Cohen, from I'm Your Man
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