Renewing the Soul One Writing Idea at a Time
Before I left for vacation, my Nikko Blue hydrangeas, the ones that are supposed to be the most awesome blue color in the world, were pink. It sort of summed up several months for me: expecting and hoping for one thing and getting something else entirely. I dumped a bunch of "make it blue" natural powder stuff on them, and not unlike the fairies in Sleeping Beauty, waved my little shovel around and willed those flowers to turn blue.
The day I left, they were still pink.
I have a feeling now, that at some point, they will turn blue. . . a garden analogy for my attitude and how the beach lifts me up.
There is something about sinking ones toes into the sand and and floating rhythmically on the waves that soothes my soul. I spend my days with tangled salt water hair and sand in every crevice imaginable and love every minute of it. The beach is capable of healing me, plain and simple. Ask any one of my family members who have been around me for the last couple of days.
At home, I get worked up over country club emails and let things bother me. Here? I noticed a cranky email, replied to it smartly and without stress, and I let it go.
Part of the attitude change is due to my Lil C, who is a beach girl through and through. Yesterday, while floating over the waves with her and Big I on an ocean whose surface was like glass, she said, "I am not getting out, not ever. I just love this" and then burst into a fit of infectious giggles. Of course, last night on the way home from dinner, she said "Floating on that raft was like a baby ride. It was too easy" and then she launched into a fresh round of hiccup-inducing giggles.
On the way down here, we spent a night in Chincoteague, VA. I had never been there before but I will definitely go back. A quaint little town where you can walk to "Bill's" or "Dan's" restaurants from the hotel, it jump started the vacation mode very easily. While walking to dinner, we walked past a little bed & breakfast that had a sign on the fence. Apparently, a writer (whose name escapes me now), had stayed there and written a book back in the 40's.
"That's what I should do," I told Mr. BBM. "I should stay at a little beach town somewhere and write a book."
When I was fresh out of college and working at the Creative Nonfictionliterary journal as an assistant editor, I interviewed a writer we had published named Donald Morrill. He had written a memoir piece and when I asked him what advice he could offer to just-emerging-from-college writers, he said that his advice was to not try to write any memoir until you're at least in your late 30's or 40's. "Until then," he said, "you think you have plenty to say but you really don't. Young writers who try to write memoir lack perspective." I've read two memoirs while at the beach: Eat, Pray, Love and Mennonite in a Little Black Dressand I am hungry to read more writers like these two. They were inspiring. If publishable stories can be crafted about family recipes and funny family happenings, I have a wealth of material to write about. My family is quite "write-able." And although I'd like to stick to my story that I'm still only 29, the fact is, this "29-year old" is a bit of a liar. (You know, in case you haven't figured that out quite yet.)
So, I spent much of the drive discussing with Mr. BBM, subjects of potential books and possible chapter titles. And I think I'm going to try to write more than just this blog. I think I'm going to make some type of writing commitment, even if it means getting up earlier than usual or staying up later than usual so that I can have some peace and quiet to write.
I mean, all of you who read this blog would buy my book right? I could probably sell as least 10 copies or something, and that would be pretty cool.
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Digging Out
I spent the past weekend at the beach with friends and it was a much needed reprieve. I sat around, read a book, drank Sangria and even got a Mom's night out to watch the new Sex & the City 2 movie (way over the top, by the way). On the way to the beach, I checked my voicemail at home and there was actually some good news for a very nice change.
My surgery requires no pre-certifications. It's covered by insurance. Apparently, they realize I'm not interested in having solely a "pretty" knee. Now I'm waiting for the orthopaedic surgeon and the plastic surgeon to sync up their schedules and get me in. I'll need to have the surgery at the hospital and I am hoping that it is quick, and as painless as possible. The screw in my tibia will be coming out and then I'm going to be fixed up by the plastic surgeon to eliminate the Franken-knee I'm currently sporting. He told me he'll be cutting out the scar itself, putting a layer of bio-fabric or something (the stuff they normally use during breast reconstruction surgery on the sides to connect everything) over my tibia and then sewing me up from the inside out. You don't know how happy I'll be to have the screw officially out of my knee. I can not wait. As much as I hate the idea of going into yet another surgery, I'm hoping this will be the very last and that my knee will no longer be stare-worthy.
I came home from the beach, after seeing the movie preview for "Eat, Pray, Love" and decided I had to read it. I borrowed it from a neighbor and I am plowing through it quickly and enjoying it immensely. If you don't know the premise, it's basically about a woman who puts her life back together through a year of traveling to Italy, India and Indonesia. Just reading about her, rejuvenating herself, is helping me to do the same. I need to write more, work out more, and start making an effort to enjoy myself more.
Soon, you may all be able to leave comments and write me emails about things other than loss and me feeling miserable. I know you're excited. So am I.
Twi-Curious
I feel like it's semi-necessary for me to explain myself. I should preface it by saying this: one of the very first dates I went on with Mr. BBM, back when we were in school at Pitt, was to the movie theater in Squirrel Hill to watch "Interview with a Vampire."
We walked home after that movie, through the park as the sun was going down and I was convinced that I would be devoured by a vampire. A few years later, one of my roommates handed me a copy of another Ann Rice book and I let it sit on my dresser for weeks before finally returning it to her. I had cracked it once. I was not at all interested. If I want to read something creepy, I'll read Poe, thank you very much.
Last year, I had a student in my writing class that started at 8 a.m. Apparently, the dude who plays Edward in the "Twilight" movie (see, I don't even know his name!) was signing autographs and she had set her alarm for like 4 a.m. so she could be in King of Prussia at 5 a.m. and hopefully meet him. When she saw that the line was already three miles long, she turned around and drove back to class. She didn't want to miss my class. This girl NEVER missed a class.
I heard some of my students talking about it, but I never had any desire to read it. The new Dan Brown book? Yes. It's sitting on my book shelf and I am saving it for a rainy weekend, because I want to devour it in two days, like I did all his other books. "Twilight"? No, thank you.
Then my neighbors started talking about it and I was feeling left out. Then my sister, who only usually reads stuff I've never even heard of, started reading it and when she was finished she offered me the book.
I let it sit, like the Ann Rice book so many years ago, but it was like it was calling out to me. "Come BBM, deliriously addicting vampire smut (which isn't even really smut because nothing happens people, NOTHING!!!) waiting, just for you. Come now."
And so I started reading it one night at swim practice.
I had the book sitting on my knees, not wanting anyone to see the spine or the cover for fear they would know I was reading it. I was embarrassed. Yet, after seeing a centimeter of the book, at least three other swim mom's inquired as to whether or not I was reading it. I sheepishly admitted that I had caved. Yes, I am reading "Twilight." To steal a phrase from my sister, I had to admit that I was Twi-curious. I also added that I had stuff to do so there was no way I was going to read it in two days the way everyone else I know did. No, I would take my time and savor it (or not).
That's when I started losing sleep. I slept only five hours the first night and didn't go to bed until almost 2 a.m. I had been reading straight since 5:45. I was exhausted but I did it again the next night. I was at a meeting that night until almost 10:30, yet I still came home and curled up with that book, which is obviously dripping with addicting vampire venom or something.
The next morning, while sipping my coffee and wondering how I could get more sleep, I finished it. I started reading, immediately, the first chapter of "New Moon" and then started making death threats to my sister, that if she didn't finish "New Moon" that night, I might just have to come rip it from her icy cold dead hands.
This vampire stuff is clearly getting to me.
Each night, since I started reading that book, I've had dreams about vampires, am suspicious of people with dark circles under their eyes (myself included thanks to no sleep), and I am focused only on obtaining the next book so I can dig in and read more.
It's not like anything really even happens in the book. But what it is, and the reason why the single biggest group of people reading this book is younger married women like me, is the teenage angst, the unrequited love, the memory of what it was like the first time those hormones fired up and you just wanted that boy to hold your hand or brush his lips against yours.
That feeling is addicting, and that is exactly why people who spend a ridiculous amount of time folding little laundry are the same ones who are falling head over heels in obsession with Edward.
I admit it. I am one of them. Hate me if you must, but remember, I've been learning a lot about vampires. I'm practically growing fangs.
On Killing
The book that I just finished reading is called "On Killing: The Psychological Cost of Learning to Kill in War and Society" by Lt. Col. Dave Grossman, and it was a fascinating read. Grossman addresses the psychology of killing in war and also relates his research to the never-ending escalation of violence in everyday society. One of my karate instructors recommended the book and I feel compelled to recommend it to you.
The basic premise of the book is built on research that found that only 10-15 percent of soldiers in wars before Vietnam actually would fire on enemies. He cites startling evidence, studies and interviews that really surprised me. When a non-military person thinks about war, you tend to imagine Rambo-like men and women who don’t mind shooting at the enemy. Nothing seems to be further from the truth. It seems that most humans (they estimate about 98% in the book) have a built in aversion to taking another person’s life.
Due to increased training, the firing rate in Vietnam was between 90-95 percent. But as we all know, in this country, there was a price to pay for it. My generation only knows what history books have told us about the Vietnam War, the discontent, the protests, the poor treatment of our soldiers upon their return, and that it was really a war like no other.
Grossman talks extensively through his book about the psychological cost of not only the increased firing rates and the effects of war on our soldiers, but also the psychological toll that the backlash of the Vietnam war left on our troops.
Fast forward to society today, where aggravated assault incidences are through the roof. Grossman compares the training methods that increased our firing rates to the video games available to the general public. He also compares the training methods to the violent movies and television shows that we are bombarded with on a daily basis. The comparisons and statistics are sobering.
Whereas human beings as a whole used to reject the idea of taking another person’s life, now "the inflicting of pain and suffering has become a source of entertainment: vicarious pleasure rather than revulsion." Grossman uses the example of teenagers watching violent horror movies and cheering when someone is taken out in a particularly vicious way. Surrounding people with popcorn, candy, and friends while watching violent "entertainment" only serve to desensitize people further to violence.
Video games that put a player in the role of a killer, and amusement park games where "bad guys" pop up and you have to shoot them may seem innocent to one who doesn’t really think about what they’re doing. But when you find out through Grossman’s book that these games are the exact same "training devices" used to turn our armed forces into men and women who will fire their weapons, it makes perfect sense that we have Columbine-like incidents and scares on a fairly regular basis.
If you have any interest at all in learning about the psychology behind killing and how it is having an effect on the society (particularly children) today, it’s a book you won’t want to miss. As a parent, I think it is an important read for any person raising a child in today’s society. As a martial artist, it provides a unique look at the mindset of one put in a situation where they must kill or be killed. I should warn you that Grossman does not mince words. He relays stories of those who have been in terrible combat situations, which sometimes made me need to put the book down and take a breather. Upon completion though, you are left with a clear picture of what violence in the media is doing to those who view it, and a desire to do what you can to change it.
***As food for thought, go here and run through the pictures and make sure to answer the poll questions so you can see the results.
***The latest review is up at The BBM Review. If you have an elementary aged child and you’re interested in finding some supplemental learning games for them, check it out. The Baby Jamz review is up and the contest is LIVE! All you need to do is stop over at The BBM Review, and leave a comment on the Baby Jamz review for your chance to win!
Chase’s book
When I taught high school many years ago, I became good friends with my mentor. She had a son who always amazed my husband and me. And today, he really amazes me.
Several years ago, Chase was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. He discovered that there wasn’t much in the way of personal information available about the disease and medical jargon only gets you so far.
He started by doing walks for the ADA and the JDRF. Then he collected donations to purchase Crystal Light packets for the diabetics at school to put in their bottled water at lunch. Then, he decided to write a book. He collected letters from people all over the country and the world from people with Type 1 Diabetes. He put all the letters into a book, and at age 14, his book went on sale today at www.lulu.com. You can view or purchase the book here.
It’s a great book for anyone with Type 1 Diabetes, especially those newly diagnosed. My own Mom, who is also a Type 1 Diabetic, contributed her story for his book. If you know anyone who might be interested in the book, pass it along!
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