I have a few ideas that might make this site live on, but for now I am not doing much with it. I think I’m going to renew it, though, because the ideas I have been organizing are perfect for my original intentions for the fictionarium.

My last post on here was so somber, I thought this place needed a bit of sprucing up, so I decided to re-direct visitors to the new site. I still have some high hopes for some fictionarium projects, but for now most of my attentions are on Scurvytown and my graduate studies.

Something has been nagging away at me, something about unhappiness, specifically how miserable I was at my former job. I was only happy when making my own fun, on those rare opportunities I could make someone laugh, or cheer a fellow sufferer up.

That’s it, I suddenly realized today. It’s pretty obvious, actually, the ways we make our own misery, and how when stuck inside this sort of cycle of misery (kind of like a cycle of abuse, with enabling and making excuses and all those old issues), we cannot seem to break ourselves free of it, until we reach some kind of epiphany, or in my case, when the unhealthy element was removed from my life.

I think this is why I am so thankful that I got downsized, not simply because it falls in line with my theme of the year (Purge-a-thon 2010!), but because I couldn’t save myself. I had to be cut loose to get away from that misery. And now that the misery is gone, what do I fill in the empty space? All I know is I am trying to fill it with as much positivity, happiness, and productive writing as I can cram into a day.

And you know, it’s hard work. I feel like I am working harder than when I had this awful job, maybe because of some kind of self-imposed work ethic that I didn’t even realize I had in me. I feel like I am pushing myself a little too hard at the moment, and that I need to let myself cool off a bit, relax, and enjoy this free time, the process of writing, and the opportunities that will eventually reveal themselves.

This recent obsessive thought process started during my Monday night class a few weeks ago, when we were discussing an article written by the professor. Now, I confess, I am not a fan of assigned readings written by the person teaching the class, but I get the relevance. Although it does bring up a discourse that detracts from the reading, arguments can be made for how it works, especially within the context of this particular course.

To get a little meta with it, if meta is the correct terminology here, this exact dynamic came to mind while reading the professor’s article. An example was cited that made me think, “Oh wait, is that a good example?” As it turned out, when I asked the professor about this, because of the positive perceptions as a result of the example, it is effective. However, he then had to state specifically in the paper that due to the positive public perception, the example works, but only within the given context. Complicated, right? I wanted to play devil’s advocate for a moment, but decided against it because had it not been a favorable outcome, I realized the example would probably have not been used in the article in the first place. Also, playing devil’s advocate when it was the professor’s own work? Yeah, not exactly advocating for my success in the classroom.

The point is, this little exchange planted a seed about perception in my head. Of course, I have been considering it in broader realms than the classroom, as well as smaller realms, like the public perception of my blog. I have no idea what people think of it, who reads it, other than my mother, and a friend or two who mentioned they added me to their google reader list. And honestly, that’s perfectly fine by me.

So, who am I writing for? I can’t say it’s for an audience, really. It’s mostly for myself, to skim ideas about my own writing process off my mind, to try to figure out what works for me and what doesn’t. That more or less labels it a self-indulgent writing exercise, but I think that is okay, for the time-being.

In the meantime, I am diving into some more deep literary theory articles, and learning as much as I can about the process of writing, and what it takes to become a more effective storyteller. I shall defer the spinning of yarns to my kitty cats.

I feel like there is a tendency when someone specifically throws a malicious lemon at you, to throw it right back. But hey, free lemons are pretty cool, so it’s best just to take it and move on.

Today’s coping: hanging with some friends, getting my hair cut for the first time in about six months, and making some progress on some projects and organization.

This time around, the torment came in waves, so that I could deal when I wasn’t getting crap heaped on me constantly, but when it started getting worse, I really just wanted out. I had better things to do anyway, and now, instead of wasting my time on things that are so very irrelevant in the grand scheme of things, I get to work on what is important to me. My only real worry is keeping myself on task in a world of technological distractions, but I am developing a few mechanisms to keep myself in check.

Getting cut down like I did, and being written up on multiple occasions for “talking down to people” or “having a bad attitude,” it was pretty crushing on an already fragile self-esteem. But lookit: both of those are write-ups generated by someone who felt threatened. If you could have seen the laundry list of items on the list, it was truly laughable, so much so that I laughed as I tossed it in the recycling bin. I don’t need a record of ways I apparently sucked at life, when every single day, I had someone sending me a message or telling me on the phone that I was awesome, or how they preferred talking to me because I was the only one who knew wtf she was doing in that office. I listened, I cared, a little too much, to be honest. I used my creeptastic intuitive skills to figure out who was lying to me, and which accounts were on the brink of failing and needed to be cut off. But this did me little good, when I couldn’t get my superiors to act on it. I am incredibly glad none of this is my problem anymore, I can very honestly say that. My point here is, sometimes, I would get the feeling that no one cared as much as I did, and that maybe I should just stop even trying to take a little pride in my work. Even when I would get these affirmations that I was doing well, I wasn’t quite sure. But it’s funny what people will tell you once you’ve been cut loose, and when those comments didn’t cease with my termination, I was pretty much overwhelmed by emotion. There were tears and junk, but happy, grateful tears, to have been perceived as someone working hard, trying to help, when I was being told such a different story by my superiors (inaptly named, I think all can agree).

I wasn’t sure what to do when I got home after getting the news I was laid off. I immediately called my mother, who is the most wonderful person I know. I told her I’d be okay, it was a good thing, and I’m right, it’s going to be a wonderful opportunity to de-stress, re-group, and become someone better. She immediately dosed me with a batch of her motherly awesomeness, and told me that the first thing that popped into her head was a scene from Ghostbusters. Yoinked from a quick and dirty google search:

“For whatever reasons, Ray, call it . . . fate, call it luck, call it karma. I believe everything happens for a reason. I believe that we were destined to get thrown out of this dump.”

I later pointed out to her that it was funny that she pulled out a random Ghostbusters quote, since it was, in a way, like her very own giant Stay-Puft Marshmallow man. The sound of my mother laughing at that almost brought tears to my eyes, because it felt like such an obvious sign of how things are going to be fine, and most likely, they’re going to be even better than that. I actually articulated that to a few people today, how I sort of know things are going to be fine all the way down to my core, like knowing the sky is blue.

I have to say, I am amazed with the support I have gotten from people. It’s been a little overwhelming and unexpected. So you have your platitudes and you have genuine outreach of help. It’s kind of outstanding how amazing people are, and I kind of love people today. I kind of love myself today, and the direction in which my life is heading.

The reason I titled this blog entry “What the Public Needs to Know” is that I need people to know how much I appreciate all their kindness. In particular, the former co-workers who texted, called, or tracked me down on Facebook to tell me they were shocked or outraged about what they did to me. Make no mistakes about it: this was always going to happen. They upped their timeframe a bit, which was a little shocking, I will admit, but after that initial thought of, “Oh, so it’s happening today,” it was simply a matter of letting it play out they way I’d already seen it happen in my head. Too deep and introspective over here, not to mention freakishly intuitive. There’s only one person I know who utterly befuddles the be-Jeebers out of me on an intuition level, since I think he chooses his words so carefully that I don’t know what the hell he’s going to say next, and as it happens, it’s almost always brilliant advice. So to my “Mayor of Good Advice,” you know who you are, thank you so much, I always seem to have difficulty articulating exactly how much your friendship means to me.

Also thank you to pretty much everyone I know who has been completely supportive and wonderful, particularly the co-workers who offered to be references while I’m mucking through the trenches. I can only handle how I deal with the current events that have cut me off from a steady source of income. I choose to deal in the most positive manner I can. It’s another change for the better, in a life swept up in a metamorphosis and wonder.

Recently, I realized that the demise that I never really saw coming was my own. I was driving, I think I was on my way to the job I hate (which I was thankfully just let go from yesterday), and I had sort of noticed a pattern of how the closer I got to work, the sadder I would get. Sometimes, not always, there would be tears. On one occasion, I am not sure what triggered it, possibly a story on NPR, but I started violently sobbing, and a thought popped to the surface of my mind: “He killed me.” When the heart-breaker did what he did, and this was several years ago, he actually put poison in this version of myself that married him in the first place. And ever since that occurred to me, I’ve been mourning her. I know it sounds utterly bizarre, but it feels like the way it happened for me. I had been stressing out because of the impending dissolution, but once I got the date from my lawyer, it was like, “Poof, stress gone,” and I could start to deal with the loss, and learn what had taken her place. This entire odd little process has helped me in my ongoing quest to learn to worry less and cope better with stress.

So change is like death. I think that is what I am saying here. While one version of a self buggers off this mortal coil, something takes its place. One day, at school, I looked up in the bathroom mirror, and I didn’t know who was looking back at me. Like, I had no clue. I’ve recently lost a lot of weight, so that was part of it, but there was just something in my eyes that seemed new and unfamiliar. It took a lot of contemplation to process that that was what being happy looked like. And it looks damn good on me.

A bit of brainstorming on what was a totally gorgeous day:

Que sera sera: “The future’s not ours to see”, but I feel its pull, so hard, like a train I’ll be sitting on one day, lurching, as I travel to a city to which I’ve never been. It’s exciting, like standing on the porch, watching an electrical storm. The future is a place I believe in, so hard. I don’t believe in a deity, but man, I believe in the future. The future is born of the past, so learn from that, learn until you think completely understand it, and then keep learning more, because there’s always a better way, there’s always more to discover.

Name-calling: I am a writer. I am awesome. I am delightful. I am brilliant. I can light up a room just by walking in it, and I want to do as much of this as I possibly can in the future. Pro-tip: I’m fun at parties and dead useful during power outages.

Focus: I am learning how to take brilliance, build a focus for it, and make something positive out of it. Ideas are people, too! Except that one, that’s clearly crazy talk.

Graduate Studies: This is the shit, people. The MFing shit. For me, this is what makes it all start to make sense. This is what I should have done a long time again, except I couldn’t, because I wasn’t ready. I’m ready now, and I’m in the middle of it, learning to be a student all over again, and while there are lots of freak-out moments, it’s ultimately what initiated this marvelous metamorphosis that has oventaken me. Once I start to get comfortable in this new skin, I think I’ll start to recognize the face that looks back at me in the mirror. I’m not a kid anymore, I’m brilliant, and I need to start acting like it.

So that’s about all of this portion of the big brain dump. There is more to the metamorphosis, deeper psychological issues, but everything that this change is built on is steady ground. That is what has made the past few months so difficult. You have to fall apart to re-build, and the demolition process was not the kindest, but what is left is shaking bits of rubble out of her hair, and trying to be a fiery little ball of squee whenever possible.

You are so very right, spammer!

In fact, I hereby dub thee “Spammer #1″ in the unofficial made-for-internets movie about my life.

Ha!

I have been pondering some pretty deep things today, whilst working my horrid day job and wishing the hours away. I think a lot about the future of the written word, and particularly, fiction’s place in the internet, and emerging fields of technology: basically, wherever the hell publishing is headed.

I am really psyched for next semester (said the gal trying to get through this semester). Next semester has me taking a course on Professional Writing and New Media. Yummy. Oh, and a cinema course on Romantic Comedies. I have some deeply intriguing (to me) theories about romantic comedies, infused with emerging thoughts I have as I delve into some deep Lacanian theory.

I have this odd feeling that once my professors have gotten a glimpse at my writing style, they kind of expect a shit-ton more from me than my fellow students. Hell, we read Lacan in my theory class and I figured out about 3 different things about his theories that the professor was going over that I am pretty sure no one else got from the readings. Of course gender studies people are fans of Lacan, that completely jumped off the page and slapped me across the face. It reminded me of that fateful day in Calculus in undergrad, when I ultimately “got it.” And that, my friends, is the kind of shit that cracks open your brain and unlocks your mind to so much more than you ever dreamed was possible.

As it turns out, I am totally writing a paper for my other theory class (um, yeah, aside here: never ever ever take two theory classes in the same semester, especially in your FIRST semester in grad school. Live and learn, people, or listen to those who have been made of fail before you. Ha!). Anyway, I was saying, I was in the midst of writing a proposal for my other theory class when I suddenly realized it was all about the calculus: study of the rates of change, indeed. Fascinating shit, really, if you’re a super mega-nerd like some of us. I am fairly certain I take after my father in the math department, which is something I wish I had realized before undergrad. Again, live and learn, and because of this, I am learning to become a better listener.

I have to say, I cannot say enough about learning to STFU and listen. There are so many different things that can make a gal a more effective storyteller, and at the phase of life I am currently in (whatever that might be, not exactly trying to define it beyond transitional/metamorphosis), listening seems to be so very key to becoming someone new, better, and hopefully, successful.

So yeah, grad school, it’s made of win when everything else seems lacking. As long as one piece of the puzzle is going well, the other parts should start to fall into place, so there is much less disarray.

And now, back to NaNo, reading Marxian theory, and getting some first drafts plotted and schemed, yo.

I am writing about politics. Yeah, me. I almost never talk politics to people. Since the political structure of Lost America is based on ours, but is still fictional, I am having quite a bit of fun with it. I invented a couple of political parties, and have named my candidates for the Presidential election. Always the character writer, really. I love inventing people!

I spent about 10 minutes fleshing out a few ideas for this Scurvytown plot line, and managed to legalize prostitution. It needed to happen eventually, because there is a brothel on the town square, after all, but I found it unexpected and funny the way it just kind of happened this morning. Like, oops, kids, I just legalized prostitution, now what? Trust me, this is going to be hilarious.

And now, back to more NaNo because I am not letting myself have a shower until I hit 5k words, and wow, do I ever smell like something the kittehs dragged in. Whew.

I decided to do NaNoWriMo yet again because I feel like I am finally ready to write a certain story that has been on the back-burner pretty much since I broke my arm last year. It was a story I started writing a little bit before a lovely trip to Kansas City for a friend’s 30th birthday party (one of the highlights from last year!)

That trip taught me that travel is kind of magical for the writing process, at least for me. I think I might do a little road trip sometime during November, just to tap into that part of the process. Definitely have travel on the brain for future writing endeavors! (including starting to find some suitable conferences to attend and maybe even soon enough, present my work)

My hiatus has not been entirely graduate school related. I’ve had about 5 major stressors over the past few months, and thankfully, have eliminated one of them. In addition to all that, I’ve moved again, which is apparently the thing I do in the fall, and pretty much every fall since 2006. (except 2007, but I made one of the dumber life choices of my meager existence in that year, so let’s pretend that year never happened).

Now that I’ve moved, and actually almost have another stressor on the elimination list, things are finally starting to look up. Going through a major personal and professional metamorphosis is very tough work. And I think I should leave that at that.

I feel like I really enjoy being a productive writer. I don’t really need too much more as a writer than to be producing content that I enjoy, and that if I’m very lucky, at least a handful of pretty cool people I happen to know agree with that. More, of course, would be nice, but I take what I can get, and I am happy to have it. So, even though I have a bunch of papers to write, and I mean seriously hardcore papers, and have decided to do this crazy 1700 words a day project for November, I am sincerely happier than a pig in shit to be writing my fingers off.

Not sure I would have it any other way. The more I write, the more I write.

Hopefully, school will help me out with my pitfalls, like editing, self-confidence, and marketing. So far, I am absolutely in love with my program and the way NKU structures it so you can find out what you NEED to be doing (as my advisor words it) and then they even go so far as to help you to figure out a plan to get there.

Yours in plotting, scheming, and writing,

Lauren

It’s been a crazy few weeks, with work and school competing to see which can cause me the most stress. My advisor at school told me to stop stressing and start having fun with assignments and such, and that’s helped a lot. I’ve actually been applying that to work as well, trying to “make my own fun” at least once a day just to keep myself from going completely mental.

Also, moving. Ugh. Packing and the act of moving sucks, but it’s going to be great to be on my own again, just me and my amazing kitties, who celebrate their 5th birthday today. Happy Birthday, Poncho and Moofy! Also, this is going to do wonders for my work commute, which is great because that really takes it out of me. An extra 20 minutes of time a day may not seem like much, but I think it’ll add up quickly! And I’ll have time to go on more runs (which leads to improved stress reduction).

I have started up my podcast series for Scurvytown, which I am pretty damn excited about. I created a new character named Magby Aarhus, who is the voice of the podcasts, and I have another series of ideas for skip week content that will make the story stronger all-around. I decided that once November rolls around, I probably won’t even have time for the podcasts anymore, but I can take my vast characterization notes and turn them into character profiles so people can get to know the central players in the story a little better. Then, once I’ve got the details of the new website worked out (planning on doing that during winter break), I’ll have character profiles that can be clicked on very easily, so it’ll be more convenient to keep folks straight. (not that I’m promoting an anti-gay agenda or anything, sheesh.)

Any advice on podcasting is welcome, as I am a total newbie on this stuff. I kind of make it seem like Magby is an amateur podcaster as well, since we’re on the same learning curve and all. Anyway, the first episode was fun, my mom liked it (hi mom!), and I look forward to recording the next one. Bathtub acoustics for the win!

Now, gotta finish my submission for NPR’s 3-minute fiction, and write some papers for school. It’s gonna be a long, coffee-tastic weekend.