creep

Impartial Musings of the Uninspired

Last night I attended a small creative writing group meeting  at All On The Same Bookstore.  There have only been two meetings so far with just a number of attendees. Last night there was me, the bookstore owner, and one other writer who was new to the group. She’d finished a memoir about loss and the death of her parents and was very excited about hunting for an agent and tweaking her query letter. She’d already received several rejection letters, but was very positive about the feedback we offered.

This writer mentioned she’d searched the market for books about dealing with grief when she lost her parents, and just couldn’t find anything that satisfied her need. So, like many writers, she began to write the book she wanted to read. Those were the exact words from the bookstore owner: writers often write the book they would want to read, or the book they need.

That got me to thinking about who I write for, and if my three books reflect some element in life that I needed at that specific time that I was writing them. The answer to that concerning each of my books individually is: yes, no, yes. And even that middle no could be a yes; I just haven’t figured out what I needed from it yet. Maybe I’ll change that by the time I finished writing this blog post?

I wrote my first book, The Other Side of What,  in 2001 shortly after moving to St. Louis for a new job.  I was definitely the new kid in town since I knew no one outside of my coworkers, and being a bit of an introvert, writing a book gave me something to do at home when I wasn’t working. I pounded out most of it on a brand new Dell lap top that I had bought when I moved here.

Oddly enough, the book is about a young man moving away from home and to a big city where he discovers who he really is.  In a way, it’s my story, the one that had taken place in 1995 when I myself left home and moved to Memphis. And by moving to St. Louis, I was sort of doing that all over again.  While my book is certainly not a memoir and the storyline is completely fiction, there are elements of both of these transitions in my life rooted in this story. Though I don’t really know, it’s possible I wrote this book because I needed a memory.

My 2nd book, Stealing Wishes, is the “no” I mentioned.  I’ve told readers before this was not the book I sat down to write back in 2007, but it was obviously a story that was easy to tell because I wrote the first draft in just 3 months. I had begun to “obsess” about turning 32 soon.  The original title of the book was even “32 and Counting.”  And the voice of Blaine, an obsessive compulsive coffee barista about to turn 32 himself, turned on inside my head and would not shut up. I had very little to go on and knew nothing about him, but we got to know each other quite well.

So, I sat down and started telling his story. The book has a lot of comedic elements that I enjoyed writing, and shares a lot of my personal outlooks on the world. So, maybe me writing it was just a way to share my own outlook on life while I was in my early 30s.  I’m not sure if I’d consider it a book I “needed” at the time, but maybe in some way it was and I just don’t know it.

My 3rd book, Are You Sitting Down?, is a definite YES as far as being a book I needed at the time.  It deals with family secrets and the expulsion of demons from the past. While the book pushes its characters’ emotional limits, my own personal dramas at the time were certainly not as extreme. But did I succeed at expelling them just the same?  I believe so.  Both in a fictional and nonfictional sense.

As for what I’m writing now, you know there are 2 projects on the table. One is a story that’s been harboring inside me for a long time and I think this is the year I will finally give birth to it.  As for it being a book I need, I don’t really know yet.  But I do know it is a story I need to tell because I’ve been carrying it for almost ten years.

The other is my sequel to my 2nd book and comes from a spark lit by a few readers and reviewers who liked Auden over Blaine, the lead character, after reading it.  I had never thought of writing a sequel to tell Auden’s story, but after reading their thoughts I decided to give it a try.  And much like Stealing Wishes, though it is not a book I set out to write, it is pouring out of me at a rapid pace.  Perhaps I have a need for it as well and I just haven’t discovered what it is.

Impartial Musings of the Uninspired

This past Sunday I made my usual trip to Shop N Save to buy groceries for the next two weeks.  I had quite a basket full and headed to check out which isn’t too crowded.  I choose a lane with only one other person already checking out.  Right when I go to get in line, a tall African American man comes from the side and sort of cuts in front of me.  I wasn’t officially completely in line (in his eyes) so I didn’t really say anything.  But his girlfriend even said, “Are you just going to cut in front of him?”  And he replied that we got there at the same time.  I just gave a stern “Go ahead!” to which he replied to his girlfriend, “See, he said go ahead!”  They only had 4 items, and although it did make me a bit mad, I dismissed it.  No thank you or I’m sorry though which isn’t anything out of the normal these days.

But they didn’t even stay in line 30 seconds, and then they moved to try to find a quicker lane I assume.  I would like to point out that the other lines were not very busy.  I’m sure the fast lane or the self-checkout would have been quicker for them, and I assumed that’s where they moved to.  So, I moved my cart up and started putting my things up on the moving belt since the lady ahead of me was almost done.

I had half my stuff up on the counter when the man returned behind me and said, “Excuse me sir, are you going to let me back in line?”  This began to make me mad so I turned around and said, “No, you got out of line.  You didn’t ask me to hold your place.”   He said, “Excuse me!?”  I repeated myself again.  He mumbled a few things that I didn’t hear, but I turned around and kept putting my groceries on the counter.  That’s when he said, “Asshole!”  So, I turned around and said, “Oh, so now you are going to call people names?  Well Merry Christmas to you, sir!”  He replied with “Merry Christmas my mother f–king ass!”

Now, a few choice words and phrases came to mind but I turned back around and held my tongue, after all, this was a very large Black man. And yeah I’m gonna say it, I half expected him to pull a gun out and start shooting.  But then, something came over me despite my blood boiling by now.  I’m sure it showed in my face.  But after I finished putting all my groceries up on the counter and right before the checker started ringing me up, I moved my cart to the side and I turned around and said to the man, “Because I’m a better person than you are and I don’t call strangers names, I’m going to let you go ahead of me and once again, I hope you have a very Merry Christmas.”  He jutted ahead of me to check out and never said a word.  No apology, nothing. I didn’t really expect one though.

His girlfriend had wandered off and returned about that time and walked in front of me.  She actually turned and whispered to me, “Thank you.”  I said to her, and very loudly so he could hear, “Thank you m’am for saying that and Merry Christmas to you, and I actually mean it when I say that to you.”  She nodded and smiled and walked on. I expressed my anger to the cashier who shared my anger and couldn’t believe how the man had acted, but then she told me other customers had actually been much worse at times.  My blood pressure soon returned to normal, but as I drove home it angered me even more that someone would act that way.

Now, complete strangers who might read this who might even be African American are going to label me a racist.  That’s fine.  Go ahead.  I’ve been called worse, and apparently in the grocery store.  Think that if you want.  Believe me, some of the things I wanted to say to this man would have labeled me as such and that’s why I held my tongue and didn’t say them. But just because I wouldn’t give up the space in line to the Black Man, doesn’t make me a racist.  And had it been a large thuggish white man, I would have thought the very same thing about the gun comment I made earlier.  So, if you want to play the racist card, go ahead.  It’s old.  It’s tired.  Grow up.  You aren’t owed anything.  It’s 2011.  Get over it.

This is more about being rude in public, and during the holiday season at that, no matter what the color of your skin is.  You practically cut someone off to get in line, when you could have probably gotten through self-checkout or the express lane quicker, and then you leave the line without saying anything and return and expect to get right back in line.  I would never do that!  And if I came back to the same line, I wouldn’t dare ask if I could have my space back had I not asked the person behind me first if I could come back.  And I wouldn’t ask them if I could come back anyway, especially if I almost cut them off to get in line in front of them.

As the years go by and our society grows and changes, our tolerance and impatience gets weaker.  And apparently our ability to be rude to one another and be selfish gets stronger. Yes, I cuss out the car in front of me when I see they are on their cell phone.  I roll my eyes at the mother with the loud rowdy kids in the store. My patience is just as thin as anyone elses.  But I haven’t lost all respect for myself and for others. Had this man in the grocery store apologized, I don’t think I’d even be venting now and writing this post.  But because he didn’t, that’s why I’m speaking out about it now.

Thanks to cell phones, internet, and all the other advances in technology, we hardly have to have ANY interaction with other people which is sad. And even though my situation didn’t even involve a cell phone or anything like that, when you are in public and you do have to interact with other people I think you should be respectful and un-selfish as much as possible, as much as you can tolerate even. And that should be year round, not just during the holidays.

And that’s all I have to really say about that.  Oh yeah, and stop texting while driving or I will honk at you.  That too!

Impartial Musings of the Uninspired

I frequently have out of body experiences – not the leaving my body, alien probe in a spaceship over Ohio, returning to my body and telling all to the National Enquirer like some lackadaisical Arkansas cornfed farmer experience – but more like mentally stepping outside my body to observe who I really am.  Sounds strange, I know.  I’ll do my best to describe it.

First, you have to think really hard, really concentrate, on not knowing who you are.  Again, sounds odd, I know.  But picture yourself as if you were a person you didn’t know.  Even conjure up thoughts about how others might perceive you as a person.  Close your eyes if you have to, or look really hard at yourself in the mirror and ask yourself, “Who am I?”

It takes a bit of practice at first, and it’s extremely hard to clear your mind of those null thoughts that are bound to creep in at first, but keep trying.  You will know when you’re there because you’ll suddenly view yourself as just a person, someone you don’t know at all.  Chances are you’ll see yourself in one of two ways:

(1) First, you’ll just be that random person walking down the street or in the grocery store that you’ve never seen before and that you only see in your immediate vision for a few moments.  Maybe you run into each other again around the corner or on another aisle, but you don’t remember anything specifically about this person later on.  Sort of sends a chill up your spine, doesn’t it?

(2) You’ll see yourself as yourself, but in regards to the fact that you still know everything about your life. You know all your desires, your secrets, your fears, your strengths, your weaknesses.  You’ll be like your own god who knows all about you.  Most of the time, you won’t like what you see.  I know I don’t.  And this is the way I see myself most of the time when I do this little exercise.

Here’s another way to get there…start to think again about the answer to the question “Who am I?”  Now, strip away all the answers.  Start by immediately thinking about being alone in the world.  All of your family is gone.  They don’t have to be dead – you just don’t have any. Now strip way your friends.  You have none.  Wipe away your coworkers and your neighbors.  In other words, start to picture yourself as being completely alone in the world.  All of the people who make up your life, that make up who you are, do not exist.  Now answer the question again.  You might be surprised at the answer.

Because most of the time we are nothing without other people. We are people wandering the space that makes up our existence, and no one else really cares about who you are or what is going on in your life.  We are fish in an aquarium that have to coexist with one another in a very small space.

It always makes me sad when I do it.  But that’s how I cope sometimes.  It’s where I go when I’m lonely, most of the time only to discover things aren’t much better on the outside looking in.

 

Impartial Musings of the Uninspired

Looking back on today, it was an odd one of sorts. I ran into an old acquaintance in the grocery store this morning, someone who lives close by but isn’t really a close friend of sorts.  We don’t hang out, although we have before.  Not really sure why.  He’s not even someone we like all that much, which is a shame.  He’s a nice guy and all.  We each had plenty of questions for each other about how the year is going for each of us.  Enough conversation to fill a few minutes there in front of the canned soup.

While standing in line to check out, I had a completely one sided conversation with the cashier.  I rambled on about how their $10 dollar Thursday always falls on the week that I don’t get paid, and how banks are going to start charging debit card fees according to the news.  The kind of air filler that bores me to tears and yet here I was filling the air with nonsense and shit.  And I kept thinking about myself, who is this person?  I’m sure the cashier was thinking it too.

I stopped to get gas after the grocery store and a black man at the next pump comments to me about how gas has gone down. I paid $2.80 a gallon after my coupon!  I commented, “That’s the only thing that’s gone down.”  It made him laugh.  And then I said the government lowered the price because America was pissed off about everything else.  He liked that comment too.  I bet he went home and repeated it to his loved ones.

I went to get my haircut and the stylist, who has cut my hair before, mentions people who ramble on about nonsense in the chair and she just says to them, “Honey, I cut hair. That’s about it.”  Then she said, “But if you wanna talk about gas prices, that’s a conversation I can go on all day about.”  So, we spent about 10 minutes discussing how much we’d paid for gas today.  Who is this boring person I’ve become?

While outside planting bulbs this afternoon, I noticed my next door neighbor was working in his yard.  He was tearing out the railroad tie wall that separates his yard from ours.  He spotted me so I walked over and commented.  He told me he was going to put in a stone brick wall.  I told him that would be nice.  We commented on how nice the weather was now and I told him he’d picked a perfect time of year to do it.  Then, I walked away and realized that was the most I’d ever said to the poor man in the five years we’ve lived next door to each other.

I moved to the front yard to finish my bulb planting and my neighbor from across the street came out and walked over.  He’s a nice old man who fought in a bunch of wars and loves to talk about how the army was back in the day.  “You wanna know what the coldest state in the Union is?  Korea,” he has said to us on more than one occasion.  Today he told me that lots of people thought he’d died way back when after he came home to the Bronx after the first war he fought in. “Cause that’s how the government was back then.  People thought you was dead and didn’t believe you when you told them you weren’t.”  I asked how his wife was doing, a woman I’ve only seen once since we’ve lived here.  I knew she was ill and didn’t get out much.  He told me she’d died earlier this month.  I suddenly didn’t feel so bad about listening to his war stories.  He then informed me that he knew he was alone because he’d started talking to the walls and that life was for the birds.

We are all like birds sometimes, aren’t we?  Eager for someone to feed us whether that be by talking to us or just listening to us.  Most of the time we shit on those people.