One more second of procrastination won't hurt

I almost forgot--voting is supposed to begin today.
Buena suerte, friends.

Brass monkey, that funky monkey (come on, I know you know that song)

Wruh Wroh, Wraggy!

Just a quick nanowrimo update.

The writing is slow-going.

So far I've remained on target two days only. Two days straight (a.k.a. "the weekend") I wrote nothing. Laundry and dust won.

Today I finally reached around 11,000 words, or 20 A-4 sized, 12 font typed pages.

Then I made a mistake, and went back and read everything, thus allowing that little voice of self-doubt to creep in. Self-doubt is still taking up shop in my head.

After reading and
1. being pleasantly surprised by some of the things I had written but already forgotten, and
2. criticizing about 80% of what I'd read,
I prepared snacks. Too many snacks, and I ate them all, and washed them down with a tall cold one. (Dr. Pepper)

Vowing off updating until the final stretch, around November 28th, I bid you goodnight.

Getting Wready to Wrumble

I'm not sure how much posting I will do during the coming month.

November is National Novel Writing Month, and I've decided to sign on. Hop aboard the word train. Take the wrist-aching plunge.

I may pop in now again just to let you know how I'm doing.

Thanks for your support.

Jigs

I'm stealing from my own comments and making them a post on their own. That's allowed, isn't it?

My good pal and neighbor asked me, "Which dance, of which people?" to which I replied:

Ay, there's the rub! It would take too long to name all of "my people," but I think I can name some dances I've been known to do on occasion, representing them.

1. Funky Chicken
2. Pee-Wee Herman a la "Tequila"
3. The Hustle (for my big sis)
4. Ed Grimley--perhaps my best
5. Cherokee Stomp Dance
6. Break Dancing, but no floor stuff, too old
7. Mexican Hat Dance
8. Homewood High School JV Cheerleaders' "You Spin Me" Summer Camp routine (a success!)
9. Sad, sad, super feebly sad attempts to dance at Arab weddings
10. "Hurrah for Homewood" routine, which I've taught my daughter
11. Did I mention sad, sad attempts to be a bellydancer? Ah, yes.
12. The Chicken Dance (Oktoberfest style, not to be confused with #1)
13. Hokey-Pokey
14. Feeble (again) attempts to copy Bollywoodish dance at end of "Slumdog Millionaire"
15. Some imitations of John Travolta in S.N.F.
16. Step-ball-change I learned in the 6th grade
17. Various routines (Eye of the Tiger?) created with long-time dear friend who now lives in N. Cali
18. Salt-n'-Pepa imitations (Girl, I'm old)
19. The Smurf
20. (Is twenty enough?) Living room waltz-in-socks

What's on your dance card?

A Bit o' Newness

Today is a new day. Crisp breezes are blowing through my windows. I'm feeling Fall-ish. I thought I might liven up the place a bit with some new colors.

Won't you join me in celebrating this change of season?

Blanca, de lejos

Blanca,
Durmiendo en mi cama, yo te vi
en mis sueños
Ricardo y tú
llegaron a mi vecinidad
muy felices por haber viajado
de una distancia larga.

Estaba cocinando pollo
y arroz
y verduras, un almuerzo
tremendo
para mis visitantes
queridos.

Que nos veamos.

My Mind as a Five-Star, Five-Subject Notebook

Do any of you go back and read the things you've written, not understanding how you accomplished such writing, how you could have pulled it off when you had so much going on, or why your mind cannot work like that all the time? Do you ever have those moments of self-questioning that go something like, "Why am I wasting so much time linking YouTube videos from the 70s when I should be seriously working at my craft?" Then again, what exactly is my craft?

Are we losing our language? Could our wrists and fingers today endure the note taking of yesteryear, when we used to fill up one of those puppies pictured above? Does anyone make outlines anymore or know how to write an abstract?

Do you sometimes hear your children say things that are so clever and original and you say to yourself, "Run, now, and fetch that pen! Write that down! Record it or it will be forever lost in the realm of great-and-clever-words-that-have-been-spoken-and-forgotten," but instead, you stand at the counter eating another square of homemade gingerbread? (or two squares) Then you forget why you were standing in the kitchen in the first place--was it to see if the last few drops of lemon-scented Ajax have already been spilled into the kids' toilet, even though it was just cleaned 3 hours prior, but it is the most poorly designed toilet because it seems to catch any speck of ick and seal it onto its surface like glue? You know, that brown streak. We all hate it.

Do you find yourself reading books you know you could have written? Or at least contributed to? Do you ever pick up any 'acclaimed' piece of writing and have no idea what all the hubbub is about? (Sometimes sentences must end in prepositions, there is no other way around it.)

Do you ever imagine your life as a Trumanshowesque documentary that is so utterly captivating that it must be recorded? If you do, then I assure you, you will think twice about picking your nose while driving...remember, everyone is watching.

Are we that interesting? Do our stories really matter? Should we all be mapping it out, scribbling it down, preserving the important stuff? Will our kids bother to try to preserve it? Will we succeed in making them want to? Do all of these personal vignettes we put out there count for anything more than self-absorption? Will the humor and sincerity of my generation be lost on the youth, who seemingly grow more cynical (and shallow) by the day?

Can I be a writer?