The End

Why does watching “Inside the Actors Studio” always make me want to write? It doesn’t make me want to act, but write. (But not scripts. I hate writing scripts).
I’m watching the episode where Dave Chapell is interviewing James Lipton (no, I don’t have it backwards. Highly recommend watching it). They were talking about “What did you want to be when you were 13?”

I thought about what I wanted to be. I think by then I knew I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to be a writer for most of my life. I’m not sure why I never studied it in college (but that is for a therapy session sometime in the future).
At first glance, my thought, is: I never did become a writer. Never actually wrote a book, not even one that went unpublished. Never had an article printed. Even my personal journals have months/years missing.
But taking a second look - maybe I’m thinking too traditional. When I was 13, the word “blog” didn’t even exist. So lets alter my thinking a little. What did I want out of being a writer? Did I achieve it?

First - have I been published? Thanks to the Google company, yes. My blog. Which is the answer to almost all the other goals. Strangers have read my writing. Some friends and strangers have told me the enjoy my writing or tell me they like the way I write. I’ve had published writers (printed-paper published, that is) write to me about my writing - which absolutely thrills me!

Next goal: I’ve been able to tell my side of the story, or what it is like to be me, and my opinions of things, and what my part of the world is like - what is going on around me. What the world was like in this particular time period.
The Diary of Anne Frank was a big influence on me growing up (on more than a few ways, but I’ll stick to only the topic at hand). As an adolescent, I wondered what it would be like if my diary were to be published. Most of these blog entries are journalesque-like. But as an introvert, I held some things back, keeping in mind it could be read by anyone right after hitting the ‘publish post’ button.

Making Moolah?
I’ve never been paid for anything I’ve written. I’m not sure if that was one of the goals. One idea was having money so I could just write and not have to do anything else. The money didn’t have to come by way of my writings in particular. Marry rich, win the lottery, whatever, so I could just concentrate on writing. Nowadays I’m just trying to concentrate. On anything! :)
So would the 13 year old me say, “Yes, you have done what you wanted, you became a writer”?
I’m still not sure, but I think there is a possibility of yes in there. Somewhere.

Almost Done

Found the piece of paper! (Yikes, written in November?!)

Last blog entry coming soon.

Hey, look over there! Something shiney...

A little distraction while I try to find the piece of paper with a handwritten blog entry on it.

Me, Only Faster.

The snow - and my house-mate - answered more than one of my prayers since this mysterious injury began.
I haven't been able to run since this whole thing started last March. It was a big deal just to go on a simple day hike in September. And that was the only one I got to go on.

It was a Sunday. Had no plans for the entire day. My house-mate remembered that she had cross-country skis in storage. She was going to be gone for the day, so I could borrow them if I wanted to ski around the neighborhood.

My first reaction was, "I won't be able to. The shoes will probably bother me [I can't wear anything with the slightest incline], the motion of skiing will aggravate the injury, and the skis themselves will be too heavy or awkward for me to lift by hand."
We dug them out anyways. And guess what? None of that came true! The shoes were a perfect fit and didn't bother my ribs. The skis were light enough. The actual motion of skiing wasn't a problem either. And I always feel better in the cold.

Imagine not being able to run for 9 months and then discovering you can ski! I went all over the neighborhood - was out there for about three hours. It would have been longer, but the sky had been dark all day and it was Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year. I went in to my wilderness mode and thought, "better get home before it gets dark," forgetting I was in a city.
The only thing I regretted is that I didn't have someone along with me. But maybe that would have messed up my pace, or make me realize I was actually slow or something. I did run into other skiers, though, and we would chat the way two dog owners who come across each other do on a walk.

The only picture I have of me on skis:

Confessions of an Adrenaline Junkie

I am hooked. It might not look like it since I'm not jumping out of planes or anything, but doing things like live theatre gave me a rush every show. With my rib-cage injury, I haven't been able to do very much that would get my adrenaline going. I haven't been doing shows. No sports. I can't go swing dancing. I can't even run. Traveling and driving hurts, so no hopping on a motorcycle. I couldn't figure out what I could do that would give me a rush.

Turns out what I needed was some patience. And an Arctic blast. The first snow came when I was petsitting in West Seattle, the highest elevation in the city. And I was to drive home 20 miles that day. And the place I was staying at was on a hill.

The cross street was another hill, but also a main road. However they had closed it to traffic. It was actually closed before you get to their street.
I'm not that familar with West Seattle streets, so I couldn't even calculate how to avoid most hills or which streets are the most traveled and therefore safest ones to take. I was a bit worried...for about two blocks. Then I realized: this could be exciting... This could be a RUSH! My worries and tension immediately disappeared and I let out a "Woohoo!" (and there might have been a "yipee ki-ay motherfucker!" in there, too).

Fate was on my side. I had put on two new front tires on the '88 Camry the day before. I just dropped her down into 2nd and was on my way. And felt a little righteous when I drove passed some trucks and SUVs that were either sliding or spinning I made it through just fine.

When the snow came again a few days later, once again there was excitement. Taking the bus to work was a carnival thrill ride. And you never knew where the last stop would be...

Midwest to Western Washington: "You're doing it wrong."

Update on that blizzard. We remembered to have a large snowfall but forgot the wind. Oops. Sorry, we're new to this whole blizzard thing. Maybe we'll get it right before the ice caps melt. So the great blizzard of 2008 ended up being the large snow dump of 2008. For me, it was actually a lot of fun. And for most people around here.

Understanding Seattleites - we are an outdoorsy people to begin with, who are use to adjusting their outdoor sports because of adverse weather. But it's usually rain not snow. Golf games aren't canceled because of rain. Soccer players know how to slide in the mud. Campers never leave their blue tarps at home.
We adapt. And that is what we did with the snow.

Most of the pictures from the newspapers' websites and local blogs show adults playing. There were barely any shots of kids sledding or building a snowman. It was adults snowboarding down Queen Anne Avenue, a couch substituting for a sled to take down Denny Way, seeing if their dogs would be contenders for the Iditarod, building snowmen that would make Calvin & Hobbes proud. I saw it for myself, too. Hell, I was one of them!

More to come...

Hunkering Down

I am awaiting, or maybe I am in the start of, a winter storm/blizzard that is about to hit Seattle. I'm in my old drafty house - but at least our heat is natural gas so we will be warm even if our power goes out.

I coudln't get a good angle that gives a good perspective of how big this icicle is, but trust me, it's BIG.