Sunshine, Lollipops, and Bludgeoning Everywhere...

"What are we watching?" my husband asks.
"The Killing," I say.
He gives me the look, yeah, that one, and says, "You know, for someone who's all bunnies and rainbows you tend to go to the dark side...a lot. Why do you like this stuff?"

A valid question. And a true statement. I'm not dark...but, I love dark. Really, really dark. Don't get me wrong, I read and watch funny and light too. Yet sometimes, I don't just want the protagonist to be brooding, I want them broken. One of my favorite series features a serial killer as the protagonist.

Yeah. Dark. Maybe if a person's all rainbows, she needs some gore to even it all out.

You'd think with all that dark-love, I'd be writing it too...well, you'd be wrong. I've tried, and everytime I tried to write dark, some character cracked a joke, or smirked, or kvetched. Seriously. My characters would rather die laughing, than snear as they kill someone.

I used to try to fight it, hadn't I learned not to fight the me that is me? I keep re-learning that lesson. So, now I know, I write light. And that's okay. It's a balance, right?

Please tell me you have opposites in your personality too. And then tell me what they are.

Tracker Jacker

There is something in me that hates keeping track. I'm part of a writing loop group -- which is, suprisingly, nothing like a loup garou -- we keep track of each day we meet our writing goals, once we hit 100 days in a row there is great rejoicing in the land and such.

I have never hit 100 days -- I'm sure I've done it, but I won't keep track. Can't keep track -- I've tried calenders using stickers, and smiley faces, and well, I've tried those two things...and I can't keep track. When I try to keep track I stop writing.

So, I've decided to embrace it. Which is what I do when I can't get rid of an annoying thing about myself, or others -- I embrace it. I seem to write more consistently when I don't keep track (kind of like a diet, when I say I'm going on a diet, I crave the donuts!)

It's almost as if I have to trick myself into things. If I don't think about writing, or having to keep track of writing -- I write. The minute I set up a schedule and put times on a calender, I may as well turn on the TV and veg. 'Cause, nothing's getting done.

I can trick myself into getting an inordinant amount of stuff done. If I don't schedule them or prepare for them, I just do them. Sounds ridiculously easy. And it is. I trick myself into exercising by staying in my PJs and not thinking about it -- sometimes the preparation for something makes my brain think it's actually done it. Stupid brain.

What do you trick yourself into doing?

Span(gles) of Attention

I joke about having Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD) a lot, yet I know it's not a deficit at all -- in fact, it's the opposite, more of a plethora of attention. And I'd prefer it to be called a theory rather than a disorder, but, I suppose chaos theory would be too much, right?

So, here I am with Attention Plethora disorder, thinking about all my interests which are legion. I write, not always well, but I like to consider myself a "writer," I garden, I make jewelry, I sew (sort of). My interests are varied. Ah, Varied Attention Plethora Disorder.

I'm thinking lots of creative (and I hate to lump myself in with that moniker, only because I would never say, "I'm a creative type." But, what are you gonna do?)folk have lots of other creative interests and maybe get waylaid by them.

Sometimes I dream of having all my interests surrounding me in a tangable way. I could leave out all my notes on what I'm writing, I could have all my beads and wire and detritus of collagable materials out, I could line up all my seeds and sketch a pattern for my garden...

As it stands, my interests get in the way of each other, vying for my attention. If I decide to leave one for the other, I first have to pack-up all signs of one and then unpack what I need for the other. Half my day is spent with this. That's not a part of my disorder -- that's my husband's disorder:all is good and right with the world when I don't see crap all over. Kind of a mouthful, but I try to help him with it by not leaving crap all over. He tries to help me with mine by saying, "Can't you concentrate on one thing at a time?"

Err, no.

I'm still left with:

Varied
Attention
Plethora
Interest
Disorder

VAPID...Oh, that's why I look like I'm staring off into space without a though in my head. D'oh!

What are your varied interests and how do you balance them?

The Joy...osity of Made-Up Word

Don't get me wrong, I love a well crafted sentence. I can't always write one, but I love 'em. I also love words, especially solid words used correctly. Maybe that's why I find such joy in mis-using words on purpose and/or simply making them up to suit my purpose. A rebel without a...clause, parenthetical, even.

I have one friend (yes, I do), sometimes our coversation is so full of made-up or inappropriately added 'ly' words, that I'm sure outsiders listening in would exclaim to their own brains, "holy crap those two are dumber than I...er, me, no, wait, I."

I know I've posted about this before, yet, it's so dear to me I felt the needliest need to do it again. So, here is my list, always growing:

farly ie: he threw the ball farly
mosterest
bestest
foreverest
joyosity -- I may have stolen this from Louise Rennison, author extrordinaire of: The Confessions of Georgia Nicholson YA series. Sorry
needliest
fiter-fighter ie: The fiter-fighter fought the fire.

Well, you get the picture.

Which things do you love to do the wrong way?

Betty and/or Veronica

I was a Betty all the way. She seemed nice & sincere. A good girl. Which is what I strived for always...mostly. Then I got to know Veronica.

Veronica Mars, that is. Hellloooo mystery with a smartass teenage Private Eye helper daughter. Oh. Oh. Where were you when I was a teenager longing to be a smartass? Damn. When you were there (TV) I was so busy with life and little ones I kept forgetting that I wanted to watch you.

Until now.

Now, that which is the miracle of Netflix instant streaming, I can watch you. Cue heavenly music...aaaand, done. Look, I know in the great scheme of things, or even in my tiny schism of thing(s), Veronica Mars may not be the most important thing. But she is cool. And she's cool by sticking up for what's right, even though she ends up as an outsider by doing that.

So, back to teenage Private Investigative, smart-mouthing, figuratively-speaking-butt-kicking girl. All the things I longed to be, when my reality was a teenage theatre group, somewhat smart (alecy), euphamistically-speaking-passive-aggressive girl...Yeah, um...I'd like to change my answer and go off the boards with being a Veronica instead.

Maybe there's no statute of limitations on becoming a smart-mouthed, butt-kicking girl. Clearly there is one on teenageer-ness. Thank God. Yet, I'd like to think if I'd had Veronica Mars as a role model I might have made some different decisions, or, at the very least, started my own P.I. company.

Who do you wish you had as a role model as a teen?

Slothier Than a...Sloth, More Comfortable Than a Couch, It's Pajamazon!

A great day for me:
Wake up. Make excellent coffee. Read Sunday newspaper (it doesn't have to be Sunday, but it has to be the Sunday newspaper). Stay in pajamas for as long as possible -- if I never have to put on "real" clothes, then my day is perfection.

The older I get, the more I can't wait to get into my pajamas. The minute dinner is done and the dishes are washed and if there is no sports or school related function...then it's pajama time!

My husband and I vie for the prize of "first in pajamas." And then the other one yells, "pajama time!"

I'm fairly certain I'm much more patient in my pjs (my mom always called them pajeejays) how can I get upset when I'm so darned comfortable? I can't. My youngest understands this and gave me pjs for Christmas (along with excellent coffee). He's a smart kid -- keep mom comfy.

The other day, my husband gave me the name "Pajamazon." I love it so much, I'm thinking about changing my name...but I'm just too comfy to think about it now.

Do you love pajamas? Do you even wear PJs?

No Fun for You, But, Enjoyment is Okay...

Recently, I was in Seattle for family reasons. That doesn't sound like fun, does it? Well parts weren't fun, like waiting with my two sisters and brother-in-law while mom was in surgery. That wasn't fun, it was, however, hopeful. And the surgery turned out successful.

After mom was out of recovery she said us,"Go have fun!," to which my brother-in-law replied, "We'll enjoy ourselves, but we won't have fun. Not without you."

It's funny how you can do that. Because, no matter what, part of your heart is back in the hospital room with your mom. So nothing is wholehearted, (pun, not intended) which is how we could enjoy ourselves, and we did, yet, not have fun.

Mom's doing great, we knew she would, and I'm certain, can't wait to start having some fun.