Writing Group

I met with my writing group tonight and it was awesome, as usual. My writing group is a gang of three and we've been meeting regularly since 2004. We've read each other's fiction, poetry, experimental works, and novels. Sometimes we use a text, other times we take field trips or take our favorite writing teachers to dinner. I really like the exercises and we're a very encouraging group. Once we met in Dupont Circle and followed a guy around for about an hour, making up his story and what he was doing there. We also often bring book recommendations. It's a do-it-yourself class.

Tonight, we each brought our homework and read and gave each other notes. Last month's assignment was to write a story titled "How to Beat the Winter Blues" and we each had something totally different. My story still needs some work though.

Bare Naked Finger

In my cubicle this morning, I glanced down at my furiously typing hands and noticed I wasn't wearing my wedding ring. My finger looked bare and strange without the thin, platinum band. I married My Heart's Desire last April Fool's Day and have just the beginnings of a mark around my ring finger. It felt so weird not having it on. I'm used to wearing it almost all the time and definitely when I am out in the world.

Several times during the day I caught myself noticing that it was missing. With my thumb I rubbed the skin that's usually hidden by the ring. I felt like my hand was lying to me by withholding the evidence that I am married.

On my way home from work, I found my ring in the coin holder of my car, where I had put it this morning for safekeeping while I put hand lotion on on my way to get blood drawn. I slid it over my knuckle and into the groove, where it belonged.

On the Metro today

I love people-watching on the Metro. Particularly when I'm not traveling during rush hour and can see the people who are going wherever in the middle of the day. Today I saw a few interesting characters.

First, there was the older gray-haired gentleman wearing a three-piece suit and reading the Examiner. When he finished his paper, he folded it up and then proceeded to sigh loudly, attracting my attention even with headphones on. (I was listening to the Extra Cheese playlist today). Then he whipped out a pair of nail clippers and trimmed each of his nails, leaving the trimmings scattered on the carpet below. Where could he have been going that demanded immediate grooming?

Next, there was the youngish yuppie that stood in the back by the door, kind of obscured by the sleeping teenager that was wearing a knitted baseball cap. He was rocking out to his iPod in the mostly empty train car. When he thought nobody was looking, he proceeded to play air guitar on his slightly over sized messenger bag. It was awesome to watch. Yuppie. Air guitar. Messenger bag. I see a bar game in the future...

Last was the Metro DC cop, who was decked out in full police regalia with that kind of severe facial expression that is very bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do when they come for you? I saw him when I first got on the car, he was in the only spot on the car where nobody could come up behind him. Anyway, he had on the full uniform and jacket and when he finally got up to leave, I noticed he was carrying a tiny Scooby-Doo backpack.

A fine line between brave and foolish

The line between brave and foolish is so fine that it can be hard to tell which is which. Usually it's not until after the fact and I've had some time to think about it that can I really tell. A partial list on this very rainy Sunday morning:

Brave:
Riding a mechanical bull
Moving across the country to go to graduate school
Auditioning for The Vagina Monologues
Going on trips solo


Foolish:
Riding a mechanical bull, times 2 and 3
Thinking I can change someone from the sheer force of my will
Piercing my own nose
Wearing platforms on first day of new job (I ended up tripping over them and landed in the downward-facing dog position in front of the UPS guy. Classy.)

The blog show

Hello there, blog readers. I am a fiction, nonfiction, and poetry writer and I am currently working on all of the above. I also take photos sometimes and will post some of my favorites. I am taking baby steps to live my dream. Right now I'm trying to figure out ways to consistently carve out time for writing and editing. Like a lot of other people, I have a day job and try desperately to fit in time to write creatively. I write a lot for work. Earlier this year, my writer's group re-convened and we meet monthly, giving each other assignments and readings, sort of a do-it-yourself class. But with gossip and good snacks. It's very motivating and this month I sent out a few poems to half a dozen periodicals. All they can say is no, right?