Words

I'm a writer.

I'm not just a writer because I call myself one. Writing a blog doesn't necessarily make one a writer, either. Yes, by definition a writer is someone who writes -- but for me, the titles goes deeper than that.

When I'm alone in my car, or taking a shower, or walking along the shore, my mind is rarely idle. Instead, I'm busy constructing sentences. Listing adjectives. Creating characters. Writing blog posts. I can spend twenty minutes of my life, or more, steeped in thought, ferreting out the best way to phrase a description of the morning fog clinging to the trees.

And I don't just write in my head. I have notebooks scattered everywhere throughout my life, just waiting for the words to pour onto paper, in hopes that they will find a home in a more permanent situation soon. Scraps of poetry, bits of story line, a jotted note about a dream I had once---all waiting to take shape into a more concrete, linear form.

I have a love affair with language. I am mesmerized by words: the fluidity of them, the meaning of them, the beauty of them. I collect quotes -- whether serious or thoughtful or funny--that speak to me. My house is decorated with words. Wooden signs with written reminders to dream, to fly, to live and love. 

Words give me strength. They can be anchors, or buoys, or vessels. They can be wielded as weapons, or wrought with grief. They can be witty and pointed, or placid and dull. 

Words are loneliness, and love. They are epic, and trivial.  Words are limiting. Words are freeing. They are weird and awkward, or subtle and shifting.

Words are romantic. Give me a bouquet of words--well-spoken, meaningful, lovely words--over a handful of flowers any day. 

I may not have a shelf of books with my name on the jacket cover, or be recognized among my peers as a starving artists paving her way with words. I may not spend twenty-three hours a day hunched over my keyboard, painstakingly pounding out the next great American novel. In truth, I may not even be that great at writing.

But nonetheless, I am a writer. My destiny is with the written word.

I can't help it. Words captivate me. I am their greatest fan.

Random Things I Often Wonder About

I spend a lot of my free time pondering life in general. (One: because my job is just that boring and I have plenty of free time to do so and Two: it helps me come up with stuff to write about.) I find myself wondering about a lot of random things, like what the marshmallows in Lucky Charms are REALLY made of, and what it would be like to see the world from outer space.


I think part of that comes from being a naturally curious person. Most of it comes from being a writer, though, and always trying to think of a new topic to write about.


A friend of mine from college, Dave, sent me a question on FB this morning about just such a topic. So I decided to turn it into one of my favorite "list" blogs.


Random Things I Often Wonder About:


#1 Why can't the criminals on Cops have thought bubbles?
Go ahead and deny it, but I won't believe you. EVERYBODY watches Cops. And each time the guy gets pulled out of his vehicle, sporting the "I Didn't Do It, Officer" t-shirt with that bewildered (or is it stoned?) look in his eye, I always wonder what he's thinking when he sees that camera.


"Oh, crap, Mama's gonna kill me."
"Oh, crap, that guy I owe a lotta money is gonna kill me."
"Oh, crap, my wife is gonna kill me."
"Did I brush my teeth today?"
"HOORAY! I'm FINALLY gonna be on Cops!"


Wouldn't the show be THAT MUCH BETTER if they somehow electronically added thought bubbles???


#2 When did speaking like an intelligent person go out of style?
I miss words like "nonetheless," and "ergo," and "furthermore." I crave the opportunity to use words like "indubitably," "consequently," and "inasmuch as." And don't get me started on how exhilarating it is to use the word "hence."


The sad thing is, when I use these words around most people, I get a look that much resembles this:

Don't we miss speaking as though we have brains? Don't you find it refreshing when you can have an entire conversation with an individual without them using the word "like" a hundred times? I miss words.


#3  A train track is 300 miles long. On one end of the track, Train A leaves the station at 4PM. On the opposite end of the track, Train B leaves leaves at 6PM. If Train A travels 45 mph and Train B travels 60 mph, when will they meet?


#4 Are those tweets really from Steve Martin/Ashton Kutcher/Donnie Wahlberg? (For all you Donnie fans, you're welcome for the link.)

Anytime I see a tweet from a celebrity I always wonder...is that REALLY them? Or is it some sad publicist who's only job is to make stuff up to tweet for that celebrity.

Granted, some of them are pretty obvious. I don't think anyone would EVER willingly take pictures of Danny DeVito's feet, even if they were being paid a substantial salary. It just goes against human nature. So I'm betting Danny's tweets are real.

But the tweets from Anderson Cooper? Really, pal? Aren't you somewhere embedded deep in the wilds of Afghanistan covering the news? Don't tell me that, while you're ducking into a cave to keep from being blown up, that you're whipping out your smart phone to tweet about it. Seriously, Anderson, we worry. Tweet when you get home, ok?

And the one Dave asked me about today, #5: Whatever happened to those email surveys that were so popular before FB/Twitter took over the scenes?

I honestly don't know the answer to that question, Dave. But, for nostalgia's sake, here ya go.

What would you do if?

You got a visit from your favorite celebrity: ie, Donnie Wahlberg? I'd scream like a tween, leap into his arms, start sobbing the words to "Cover Girl" with intermittent shouts of words like "LOVE!" and "HOT!" and "MINE!" Then I'd spend the next 10 years apologizing to my husband.

You won 500 million dollars: You mean, like gold at the end of a rainbow? That's easy. I already answered that question in this blog.

You found a wallet on the ground: I'd pick it up.

Your date throws up on you: I'd throw up on him right back.

You witnessed a murder: Pee my britches, run for the hills, create a fake identity and move to Paris.

You were stranded on an island with nothing but the ability to make one phone call: I'd call a genie and ask for three more phone calls. And a boat.

Facebook and Myspace both shut down: Myspace? What the hell is Myspace?

A random dude offered you candy: I'd eat it. Duh.

You lost your favorite thing in the world: Donnie???? NOOOOOOOOO!

You got invited to be on a reality TV show: Is it a show where I get to meet Donnie Wahlberg? If so, I'm in. If not, and it's more like an eating worms and jumping from great heights show, I'm out.

Someone shaved off your eyebrows: The word "Bitch-Slap" comes to mind.

You got a phone call from the President: First, I would be stunned. Second, I would be silent, trying to figure out why he'd call me. Third, I'd probably get nervous and say something stupid, like, "Whassup, Barack? How's it hangin'?"

You had one wish: Do I really need to answer that question, after all the Donnie Wahlberg references in this survey? I think not.