Street Cool and Steampunk

I've been reading and writing a good bit lately. Writing a short story and rolling ideas around in my hands, seeing what they feel like. But, I do not want to neglect this more lucid, revelatory outlet of expression, my blog.

Two things:

1. I am at a coffeeshop after having a long run in the park with a new friend. Earlier, as I neared the entrance to the coffee establishment I crossed the path of two, we'll say, urban gentlemen. They had the dark baggy clothing that looks to me like a toddler playing dress-up in his big brother's closet. They had pristinely groomed patches of hair on their chins and shiny stones in their ears. And one of them was carrying an iPod dock complete with iPod, completely turned on and completely playing some illin' beats matching the rhythm of their swagger. What is this, the early 90's? It's socially strange to have music playing to your walk, like you're in some Chris Tucker movie and everything's cool because your ego's being bolstered by you thinking people are watching how awesome you look.

**Note: Overheard a table conversation. You only need to know what one of them was saying. "Oh so are you a nurse? Are you in nursing school? Oh, you're a doctor!" Nice work.

2. I have pleasantly, officially discovered the subgenre/subculture/style called "steampunk". If you've been into steampunk forever and think it's crazy I only just found out about this, hold on a minute. I've been reading books, watching movies and enjoying things that could be called steampunk for, well, my whole life. I only just discovered there was a specific name for it. And now that I can focally identify and define this sublimely intriguing world of art, fashion and literature, I just can't stop going, "Ooo, that's steampunk," in my mind to things that fall into this subcategory. Like I said, lots of books and entertainment I've enjoyed can be acurately called steampunk. The first one that came to mind was Philip Pullman's The Golden Compass and the His Dark Materials trilogy. Then, and I know it doesn't fully qualify, but I thought of the movie Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome with Mel Gibson. I love this post-apocalypse creation not only for the story itself, but for its interesting blending of past and future aesthetics.

And now I can buy that knee-length tight leather vest I've been eyeing for years at the local Renaissance festival and not feel like I'd look like a renny (new term for you? Look it up) when I wear it. It's definitely something Lyra would have worn on the way to find Lord Asriel in the North.



That's all for now....Now, go have an adventure sometime in the coming week! Even a small one, like taking a walk to a new neighborhood, or going to work a different way than the day before. Those things help life seem a little more interesting, and they are good for happiness too.

Sticking to the Plan

I’ve recently been questioning the idea of writing intimate details about myself, sans alias, in a blog. It got me in a little fix at work, and I have been hesitant about continuing to write what I feel and go through in the days following. It wasn’t that big of an issue with my boss in reality, but just the fact that someone said, “No, stop,” at all was enough to take my hands off the keys completely for a bit. I believe in complete intellectual, and therefore, writing freedom, but those who take that freedom up should be prepared to answer for what they write (in my case, when I write as well). I didn’t see it coming, so I wasn’t prepared.

It won’t stop me though. See, here I am, and hopefully will be in days to come (with a much smaller gap between posts). So don’t lose faith in me, those of you who are readers of my blog: family, friends, and people I don’t know, though I’m pretty sure there are much more of the first two than the last one. I’m not shot down easily.

I even started losing my emotional footing while I couldn’t write (blogging is currently my most continuous writing outlet). Though I wrote a couple of fragments of things, put them aside and sent one to be judged for a contest, the satisfied aura of having written a few lines I actually like fades until I do it again the next day, or whenever it happens that I do it again. Having a definite place to set out some scenes and images for anyone to read has become a kind of nestling place where I can settle down in and roll out of being recharged emotionally. I can’t give that up and be a complete person.

If I have to have one outside of my husband and my home, if I can’t remember why I’m where I am, if I need one to tell my stories as a human, a child, a lover, a believer, a reader – this blog is my happy place. It’s become what I created it to be, and that is the most beautiful thing when you set out to create something.

Whoever is out there reading this right now, I have an idea. I’d thought about putting some fiction I write on my blog. Not whole ones, of course, just parts and pieces so I can use them in the future and they won’t be considered “published”. Anything I put on here would, of course, still follow the Pancake Plan of finding beauty and happiness in life, however abstractly or subtly. What do you think?

Notes from a parking spot

I don't have much time to write, but I haven't posted in a few days. I'm sitting in my car in a parallel parking spot downtown on main street with my laptop open on the dashboard. Fresh from my husband's high school soccer game. They lost. Waiting for him to drive the kids back to the school and meet me downtown for food.

The word on the street is I got busted for blogging at work. Hence, my longer absence than I would have liked. How did this happen? I friended my boss on Facebook and he used it to read my blog and nail me for some revealing things I wrote about my blogging intrigues at my work computer. Doesn't take me that long to write. It's not like I'm not doing work or something, not getting things done. Whatev.

So from now on I have to write in the in between times of my life. Like now, in my driver's seat in the dark, with carhorns and kids yelling to each other across the street. It somehow makes me want to string words together even more, now that time for it's hard to come by.

Now I have to close up and meet Daniel. Don't worry, whoever is actually reading this - I'll be back tomorrow.