New Year's Eve and it's hard to believe
another zodiac has gone around.

While you drank yourself high on hoping
and watched the ceiling spin from the ground.

Counting down from ten it's time
to make your annual prayer.

Secret santa in the sky
when will I get my share?

Then you tell yourself
what you want to hear.

Cause you have to believe.

This will be my year.

This will be my year...Semisonic


Go Ahead Punk: E-Mail Little Squaw @ squawpunch@hotmail.com

AIM: gimletgurl7 (Remember when she used to be here?)

Friday, February 27, 2004

So I have to come up with a new handle for my Little Fountains of Wayne Friend. Reading this will be the first he'll hear of it. Based on random feedback and if only because I feel sorry for filling his email with such lengthy responses, him responding in kind and I wouldn't want to be responsible for his fingers cramping while on stage as a result of all that typing. It's only fair he have a handle that he can be proud of.

I guarantee he won't end up with a name like, "Anal."

Gert, Gilly, G-Love and Swifty seem quite content with their monikers and Heather P. hasn't complained once, though I am considering switching her over to her stage name, "Loki."

Regarding:
Recent advice on writing and me scrapping emails and blogs, cashing it in and becoming the next Snoopy on top of a dog house to grind out a "great American novel." "It was a dark and stormy night..."

The advice comes as a result of various ramblings and in part because I tend to figure out the ending about halfway through a show I always end up saying "I could write this stuff." To which Gilly always responds, "You should."

However I can't maintain a train of thought for more than a rant or two. Additionally my writing whether blog related, poetry or dewy eyed letters to former friends and crushes have always been the result of fits of angst. The day I am perfectly content will be the day my muse disappears. And it's happened before. I went five years without writing anything substantial. Those five years were a result of burgeoning relationship with the man destined to be my husband.

All of a sudden the world was calm.

At this point I'm amped up by a. my job and b .the whole mid-mid life female crisis.

Plus my attempts at creative writing were quite disappointing in college. I think that most of my poems were grand but I don't consider them creative or fiction. They were all a byproducts of what was rattling around in my head but not rolling out onto my tongue.

I base that on two points, a. I have to be angsty to write well and b. I have to have some sort of guarantee of response. I am by nature a social person at least my personality (as indicated by Myers-Briggs and a million other studies I have had to take) and more importantly I desire the acceptance and feedback of others (again indicated by various tests). Pretty funny for a person who usually is quite blatant about her disregard and contempt for the majority of mere mortals she interacts with on a daily basis. However the people I respect and desire such feedback from are a small select group. I've said it here before. I am very fortunate with the friends/companions/compatriots I have. They have all been very supportive and continue to be so even when I am rotten.

And I feel like I've been rotten a lot lately.

posted by JustKeepMum on 8:36 AM