Mark does not understand the creative process.
I am sitting here this morning all slumped in my chair. It spins, did you know that? Plus, also? I can raise it up and down. The raising up and down is a feature I sort of wish I hadn’t noticed.
Sometimes? If I am fucking around on the computer for too long and using my mouse a lot? My right hand gets a teeny bit annoyed and chilly feeling. Like my circulation has been cut off.
When this happens, I like to imagine that I am suffering from frostbite. I am a mountain climber, and I am scaling the last troublesome bits of Mt. Everest, and it is fucking freezing cold, and a blizzard is coming, and there are avalanches on either side of me. I should turn back, but I carry on! I am all inspiring! Because I am determined to beat this fucking mountain (it is my nemesis), and if I have to lose a fucking hand on the way to conquering this evil bitch mountain nemesis? Then so be it, people. So be fucking it.
I am lost in this reverie, and shaking my hand to force some blood down to my tingly fingertips when Mark walks by, “You should raise your chair so that your arm doesn’t rest against the edge of the table.”
What? You can do that? Hold on. Let me check.
And then? Like a miracle? I am sitting higher!
And my hand? Goes back to its normal state where it is not about to turn black and fall off because of frostbite.
I am happy and typing and mousing. Sitting all tall. Like a big girl!
And then? My feet go to sleep. Both of them. All suddenly and tingly and horrifically.
It is much harder to imagine that you are a heroic mountain-climber if both of your feet are now going to be lost due to frost-bite.
Because a mountain climber with no feet? Is a dead fucking loser mountain climber.
Mt. Everest is a cruel bitch, people.
So now I am hopping and stomping about the room, trying to force life back into my deadened feet.
I sit back down and massage my feet. One at a time.
As I am doing this, I realize that in my new elevated position? My feet do not actually touch the floor. Tip-toes . . . yes. Entire bottom of foot . . . no.
And when my feet are all dangly and child-like and not quite meeting the floor? They go to sleep. I know this from every single time I have ever been in a movie theater.
I am short, people.
So I lower the chair. Happy feet.
And then my hand goes to sleep.
So I raise the chair. Happy hand.
And then my feet go to sleep.
I will spare you the story of the 8 million times I have now adjusted this chair in an attempt to find that perfect spot in which blood may freely flow to all of my extremities.
It is not to be found, people.
And now we have come back to where Mark does not understand the creative process.
Although first? I would like to mention that while I have visions in my head of being an inspiring mountain climber who suffers from frost-bite? In real life? I think mountain climbers are fucking idiots. Just so you know.
And speaking of people who are not really that inspiring and may actually be fucking idiots?
There is a certain kind of writer out there who annoys the hell out of me. Don’t worry . . . it’s none of you guys.
And even if it were?
Well, that would kind of suck, actually. I guess I would have to break out the, “It’s not you. It’s me!” speech. Because I do in fact have all kinds of fucking issues.
Here is my problem. I do not want to be inspired.
Seriously. I do not. I do not want to be told to go out and capture the magic of the day. I do not want to be told that I need to do special things for myself to capture the magic of myself. I do not want to be told about others who have captured the magic while I am sitting here with numb feet and frostbitten hands. I do not want to be told about how you were all broken, but now you are on the road to recovery because you have climbed your own personal evil nemesis mountain. Especially if you are going to close with how I need to go out and conquer my own mountain. Fuck that.
Go, gentle reader! Go out all inspired by my writing and my suffering and my fabulousness and spread the inspirational word!
Get away from me with that shit. You are annoying the crap out of me.
I want to be clear . . . I am not averse to responding emotionally to someone else’s writing. I am not averse to being inspired. But if those things are going to happen? I want them to happen organically, because of something I bring to the experience as a reader. I want to be unexpectedly and terrifyingly swept away by the force of my connection with your words.
If that moment happens? That is magic. Rare and lovely magic.
If there are little sign-posts up all over the place about how I am about to be inspired and uplifted? That is not rare and lovely magic. That is manipulative bullshit.
Just saying.
Wait. Where was I?
Mark does not understand the creative process.
So I am sitting in my chair all slumpy, just thinking. My chair spins . . . I believe I already mentioned that. I try not to spin it a lot (even though it is a lovely feature), because very time I spin my chair, I think of my grandmother and a story my mom once told me.
My grandmother had suffered a stroke, and while she had mostly recovered, there was some dissent among family members about whether or not she was still competent to handle her affairs. There was a meeting with the attorneys and the family and my grandmother . . . in which it was decided, over strenuous objections, that my grandmother was in fact still competent.
My grandmother did not speak more than a few syllables during this meeting.
And then, as my mom tells it, at the close of the meeting, her eye was caught by sudden silly movement in a room full of serious stillness. She turned to look at her mother (my grandmother). My grandmother was spinning in her chair. Slowly at first, and then faster, a look of complete and utter joy on her face. Oblivious to the discussions and disagreements swirling around her, she smiled and spun in mischievous childlike delight.
Sigh.
So when I spin in this chair, it feels like a sign of incompetency to me.
Back to Mark being all clueless about the creative process.
So I am sitting here all slumpy and thoughtful, and Mark comes through and sits down. Starts talking stuff about how his screen-saver is not working and he needs another cup of coffee and he has an email to forward to me. I am not really listening. I am all slumpy and thinking.
He gets testy, “So what I say holds no interest at all? You’re just going to sit there in your chair in a daze? You are doing nothing but staring into space in a daze!”
What????
“I am not sitting here in a daze!”
I sit up straight and start typing, “I am so not sitting here in a daze. I am sitting here being inspired!”
“Whatever.”
And guess what? I have had an epiphany! I will share it so that you can be all inspired as well . . .
I believe that in addition to all of my various dysfunctions?
I must now add Ergonomically Challenged.
Because my feet? Totally asleep.
Save your tears, people. Because I am going to be strong and I am going to figure this shit out. I will triumph over this latest bit of adversity.
I will be . . . in a word . . .
Inspiring.
I’d actually never realized that was why my hand falls asleep.
Dagnubit, you actually did inspire me!
Although if you raise your chair to save your hand? It may cost you the ability to climb Mt. Everest.
Because your feet will require amputation.
Some motivation for the day http://www.despair.com/sanity.html
I am not even opening that link. I imagine pictures of little kittens dangling from trees, with the caption, “Hold On!” printed beneath.
I promise no kittens were harmed or humiliated in the making of this image. This is one of my favorite sites for pissy ass days.
First of all? I am not having a pissy-ass day. So shut up.
And second? This latest link comes up as having “threats” of a viral nature, so I had to delete that link.
Third? I checked out the first site, and if I ever WAS in a pissy-ass mood? That would be amusing.
WHAT? I’m so sorry…that sucks. Hmmmm great….I guess this computer is hosed. Oh well….explaining that to the IT guy will be fun.
Secondly, I wasn’t implying you were. I was just saying its mine fav for those kinda days (which is like every day ;)
You are forgiven.
I can’t have people thinking I have pissy-ass days.
Because I am all perfect. And inspiring.
You know you want to be me.
I could never be as awe-inspiring or articulate as you.
Don’t forget delusional.
I am delusional in spades.
FM you are queen of the fuckin’ mountain :-D
You know, they make these ergonomic foot rests that are adjustable and raise your feet up? They’re even adjustable for different angles and heights. Or you can use the wayward book and stick your feet up on that. Just an idea.
It’s one of those days at work… our IT contractors need to install a new PC. IT doesn’t because it’s connected to a video teleconference system- they say that VTC people need to do it. The VTC contractors won’t do it because it needs to connect to our LAN… wait for it… wait for it… yup, back to the beginning. I’d have someone else work on this, but shit… this is an easy diversion. Too bad the google pacman game is now blocked on our interwebs- THAT would have been an easy time killer: http://www.google.com/pacman
It’s raining outside… maybe time for tea. Looks like I moved up to Lake ‘Slo with you. Rain today through Friday is the forecast and then more rain next week. Happy June showers!
I love you so much.
Guess what Mark just did after reading my post? He went and got the Wii Fit balance board and shoved it under my feet. I believe that my ergonomic problems have been cured by a crabby impatient man with little tolerance for my stupidity. Mark is a genius! I love him.
I am sorry you are blocked from wasting work time playing pacman. Life is fundamentally unfair.
It is rainy and chilly up here. As it is many days.
My tea bag last night? It said, “Shut your eyes in order to see.” WTF?
“Anything too stupid to be said is sung.” Voltaire
Okay then…
That explains why I am completely unable to carry a tune.
Because all of my spoken and written stuff? Brilliant . . . with no need to gild the lily with melodies.
Sometimes, one just needs a spare part…. http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/article719610.ece
Although… Most of the time, I could use a complete spare me.
And as for manipulative inspirational bullshit… spare me!
Gotta go… there are bonbons to eat, soaps to watch, and I’ve got to pick the kids up in thirty! Sure wish I could send my spare… I’m busy!
Oh, yeah… gotta go be creative, too… having trouble drawing those darn monkey hands. :D
I am so lucky to have you guys!
I am all giggling.
A legless mountain climber made it up Mt. Everest and carried a spare prosthetic leg in his pack? A spare leg that he managed to snap into place when one of his pair broke during the climb?
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?
I am all humbled and pathetic in my buzzy-footedness.
You are inspiring. So inspiring, in fact, that there’s an award for you at my site.
Is it an award for being so fucking inspiring? I cannot wait! Skipping off to check.
It’s sad, I think I’ve hurt myself more by sitting slumped at the computer than I did trying to hike up a mountain last week.
Was that the mountain with the sassy people saying cheery greetings at you as you huffed and puffed your way up?
I hate those people.
But I love being one of those people on the way back down.
And also? We need better posture. Slumping is bad for us.
So sayeth Mark.
Fuck the mountain. Today I am not so much as climbing out of bed, much less up a damn mountain. You inspire me anyway. I was about to type “you inspire me from my bed” but then I realized through my migraine haze that that probably could be taken the wrong way….
I am happy to inspire you from your bed and upward to greatness!
But if you have a migraine? Lay quietly in the dark and try to sleep. Migraines are like kryptonite to motivation.
Just be still.
Stupid, ignorant, self-indulgent, amateurish writers are the only ones who TELL their readers how to feel. I will not read them, not a bit.
Also? All that inspirational bullshit about how it’ll all be OK? What if it WON’T? Like, say, if you have a child with a severe mental illness that has a shit-poor prognosis and 40% of the young kids who have it are dead by 25? What then? What then is I tell them to shut the fuck up because positive thinking does not solve every fucking problem.
Oh, well, hello. It appears you have tripped on one of my rawest nerves. I have been on the receiving end of a zillion well-meaning pep talks by people who fail to realize that sometimes? Life hands you not lemons, but a giant steaming pile of shit. Dare you to make lemonade out of THAT. Furthermore, I do not NEED a bunch of pep talks. It those people actually cared, they could come clean my bathrooms while I take my kid to one of his 6 weekly appointments.
Sigh. That didn’t really have anything to do with your post. I try. I really do.
Also? My desk chair spins and I would LOVE to play with it but sadly, I am far too tall and my feet drag on the ground. Bummer.
Just FYI? You are one of those writers with whom I have had some rare and lovely magic moments of connection.
And there was not a single excited warning sign . . . I was just suddenly swept away. I love when that happens.
Like you, here . . . swept away by your own connections and experiences. I love you.
And I just KNEW that you were tall.
Rare and magic…yes, an amazing thing. Love you too, you invisible, generous, gut-spilling funny woman.
All happy.
Inspiring I say! So inspiring that I’m raising my chair because I’m tired of not only my hand, but my shoulder bothering me too. And I’m working on my posture because I just noticed while reading your post that I slump in the damn chair. You’ve inspired me to sit up straight. I almost said and eat my peas.
If you were to be inspired by me to eat your peas without eye-rolling and bitching and moaning?
That would be an entirely new experience for me.
I do need better posture. And possibly a desk instead of this old dining room table that is a weird height.
Or perhaps I just need an iPad!!!!!
Mark?
Or maybe not.
Ask Mark if he’ll get me one, too! iPads all around!
Mark informs me that there will be no iPads. For anyone.
Sigh.
Fuck. Now you’ve inspired me NOT to be inspired.
One of the many things that I love about you is that you tell it like it is…no putting on airs.
Another thing that I adore about you? The fact that if I ever fell off a horse, you wouldn’t stand there, saying, “Get right back on! You can do it!” You’d be laughing your ass off while I lay motionless in a crumpled heap.
I would help you up!
There would be helpless snorting laughter at your expense. But once I caught my breath?
I would help you up.
Also? I might encourage you to get back on the horse.
Because how funny would it be if you fell a second time?
Have I mentioned that I love you, you crazy funny woman?
No one makes me laugh like you do.
If a post has the word SOUL in the title and it’s not followed by -SUCKING BOREDOM or -SUCKING CREATURES, I cannot read. I may not be able to EVER read the blog again. GET AWAY FROM MY SOUL YOU INSPIRING NUMB-NUTS.
I am especially turned off by posts that announce that anyone is awesome.
“I am awesome!”
“You are awesome!”
“We are awesome!”
Fuck that.
Also? You don’t hear numb-nuts very often! I like!
I just had to interject to point out how awesome it is that Alex used the word numb-nuts.
I know! I pointed it out as well!
Alex! YOU ARE AWESOME!
can using numb-nuts make up for the fact that I use awesome like im being paid?
I use awesome all of the time.
But if I ever title a post, “I am Awesome,” you can be sure that you will be reading a story about yet another humiliating defeat.
I am all about awesome. Just not guiding others to be awesome by my example.
And you are awesome.
Remind me to save my “Climb Ev’ry Mountain” post for while you’re on vacation.
I don’t really have one of those, but I once wore a nun’s habit. And it was in NO WAY appropriate. But I digress.
My creative process has gone on vacation. Perhaps I should blog from my Mark’s comfy adjustable office chair?
Have I mentioned you’re hilarious? That’s how I meant this to start. Then I got all caught up in the nun thing. It was pretty awesome. Halloween is great when you’re 25 and completely irreverent.
You?
You are also hilarious.
That’s how it is when you are inspiring . . . you just make your point and shut the fuck up. With no distractions.
Oh, look . . . candy!
Wait. Where was I?
Well shit. I was gonna be all fucking inspiring and say something along the lines of “ever thought about getting a footrest?” but bunches of other people took my damn line. I hate it when I think I’m smart and it’s just too little too late.
OMFG- your line “So be fucking it.” I laughed. Hard.
Wow. This is above my fucking limit for dropping the fucking f-bomb in one fucking comment.
It’s freeing, isn’t it?
I don’t think of them as f-bombs.
More like f-confetti.
And seriously? Is there a situation in the world that cannot be improved by the throwing of confetti?
I was going to say my gasoline soaked flowerbeds couldn’t be improved with the confetti, but now that I’m thinking about it…yes. Yes that would make a huge improvement.
I knew it.
Fuck the gasoline soaked flowerbeds.
So much better.
My pinkies get cold as if they are going to fall off. Just the pinkies. What the hell is that about?
Both pinkies?
My right pinkie gets annoyed because it rests alongside my mouse all by itself.
But my left pinkie is all happy and untroubled.
I think perhaps . . . you are doomed.