Well, there it is, out in the open. I’m Not Funny. Ergo, therefore, I don’t write much. I wish I was witty with panache and shebang, but I really I’m quite shebang-less at the moment. However, my dear Planet Teenage Boy citizen did write in a construction paper card that not only am I the best mom in the world, I am also magical. Pause for appropriate effect….. So how many of you moms out there are jealous, eh? Not many of them PTB’ers are capable of using such adjectives, much less appropriating them toward the One Who Gave Them Birth.
So I’m not funny, just a little bit magical.
So I saw I hadn’t posted in over a month and took down my “I’m A Part of Post A Day” button, as it seemed rather silly at this point. I need a “I WISH I Was With It Enough To Post A Day” button, that would be more accurate. So what is my lame-o excuse? Depression. Relentless, annoying, can’t “snap out of it”, overwhelming, walking thru molasses everyday, depression. It sucks the life out of you, you can’t remember what it felt like to feel “good”, “energetic”, “happy”, or any of those kinds of words. But you can’t let on to people that you’re depressed, because then everyone takes it upon themselves to a) Become Your Shrink, b) Cheer You Up, c) Tell You What Diet/Exercise/Prayer/Nutritional Supplement Will Make You All Better or d) Tell You They “Understand” Because They Felt Lousy Once When ________.
Really, all I want is somebody to “reboot” my life and possibly give me a mainline IV of Rockstar, Monster, Red Bull, or whatever high energy drink is popular at the moment with all those tired teenagers. Doesn’t help at all that my particular version of Depression Hell comes with an extreme lack of finances or health insurance. So I can’t even afford the shrink, the meds, or the case of high energy drink I need.
Well, at least I can whine about it on my WordPress.com blog for free. 😉
Creatively productive. There’s the holy grail. To express the fullness of my potential as a unique individual and somehow do it well enough and often enough to get paid for it. Which is more important? Caitlin Kelly blogs about this and points out some of the beloved irony of us creative types — she won a Canadian National Magazine Award for humor for an essay about her divorce. Humor and divorce really don’t seem to go together, but that’s probably what made it work. I will spare you all the make lemonade with the lemons of life metaphor (whoops, that didn’t work.) In Real Life we must be productive, but do we put the cart in front of the horse with our focus on quantity? I am fascinated by Austin Kleon’s advice not to wait around until you know yourself to make things. Just make things, which leads to knowing yourself and thus the well of human creativity.
People tend to be amused by my eccentric creativity, but where is it’s value? That’s the big question. What makes a painting created by random slinging and splattering worth thousands of dollars, or not? I’ve got some pretty amazing metaphors and word plays up my sleeve, but what makes it marketable? Austin Kleon’s work, Newspaper Blackout, is a smash hit, but does the monetary value lie in the use of markers on newspaper? Would people value the same poetry if it were just typed out on regular ole paper? People are funny like that. Some things are perceived as wickedly cool, while others are relegated to lame gimmicks. I happen to think Austin’s work is Wickedly Cool, by the way. Does anyone care about the monetary value of Mom-ness? Is my in-depth research on the citizens of Planet Teenage Boy and Planet Teenage Girl significantly marketable? I have lots of creativity, but creating productively is the heaven to which I aspire.
Image via Galerieopweg
The Irony. I just got back on track with Post A Day, and today’s question requires the impossible. Which music act in history would I, a Deaf individual, like to see? At least the question is accurate, as I wouldn’t be able to hear anything. Nonetheless, since I lost my hearing 13 years ago and was not born Deaf, I do have the ability to extrapolate what music I would want to hear — if I could. Very definitely would be John Tesh Live At Red Rocks concert, as in, to be there live, fully able to hear and enjoy. Awesome. I know my music knowledge is de facto dated, but I still remember the fascinating sounds of what seems to be a musical genre of it’s own — “Tesh music.” You can call it whatever you want, but you can’t put it in a box… Classical, contemporary, rock? Yes and no. All I really want to tell you readers is to shut up and listen! Because You Can.
For all my fellow deafies, I think you’ll agree with me that Sean Forbes has the best music to see.
Image via Wikipedia
My tenacity is fragile. Finally noticed today that I hadn’t gotten one of those annoying Post A Day prompts in my email for a while. Somehow I was missing the annoying-ness. Went to the Daily Post blog, and found out I have been out of the loop for 8 days now…. Whaaaat? Could’ve swore I was subscribed to the Daily Post blog, and went to login and There It Was: Incorrect username or password…. Did you forget your password? Click here, you moron….. or something like that. Then it told me my Browser Was Blocking Cookies. I would never block cookies– they might be chocolate chip! Not only was I wrong about my username and password, I also had pending charges of assault against my favorite junk food companions. Life was bad. Considered changing my username to WonderlandAirhead, but was immediately reprimanded by: You Cannot Change Your Username. I don’t know what is worse, that I got cut off from the loop, or that I didn’t realize I was cut off from the loop. Cut off from daily blog post “prompts” (aka Demonic Demanding Arbiters of Anguish (DDAA)), I conveniently just didn’t notice and wantonly participated in vain distractions and……. something. Ask my teenagers, I’m sure they would have noticed my criminal behavior towards baked goods.
Has anybody seen my muse? Post A Day wants to know how I find it. Gotta tell you, I don’t find my muse– it find’s me. I have no idea from whence it comes, but it suddenly descends and a torrent of words comes Pouring Out My Fingers. Many times, if writing on actual paper, I will sit and stare at it in awe after I’ve gotten it all out of me. Where did that come from? I’ve been told I “Have A Way With Words.” The truth is words have a way with me. I don’t go searching for them, they come at me and I link them, absorb them, try to communicate them and Share The Joy I Experience with others. I love play on words, bizarre acronyms, bilingual word plays, and epic metaphors. They give me life, they make my world colorful and exquisite. Apparently, other people don’t experience this, which I think is very sad. Ha, I have an extensive vocabulary, yet I choose to use a simple description “very sad.” Maybe my vocabulary is a big part of my muse, the delight in finding a way to express something in an unexpected way. Then play with even that by incorporating the extremely simple, everyday, colloquial, slang. If there isn’t any appropriate slang laying around, make some up! Likewise with grammar, speaking inside out is a blast, if even for all the confusion on the listener’s face. Don’t even get me started on punctuation…..