Flying home from Mason City several weeks ago, I had a creative epiphany. Ideas always come when I am high above the clouds, gaining perspective on my life.
In order to pursue this goal - a marriage of both inspiration and timing - I must create new space to accommodate the intensity of its beginning. So I'll be taking a break from Notes From Josephine until after the holiday season.
My blog has become a beloved companion and it's difficult to let it sleep, even for a little while.
Inner Critic says I should blog much more. And much better. The desire is there. Well, the desire for the desire is there. But my focus is crap these days and much of what comes out is drivel.
If only blogging were my job, and all I had to do is choose which perfume, or life event, I would thoughtfully and cleverly write about. I can imagine languishing over every word before confidently abandoning each post and beginning to think of the next.
In many ways, blogging is a rest - a diversion - from the gregarious demands of my work. But it gets in the way of my thinking, and that is what I do best.
Unfortunately, much of that is drivel, too.
Did I hire the right person for that position?
I can't find my favorite mechanical pencil.
What am I going to wear tomorrow?
I could eat the entire block of gruyere.
Thank God the French eat chesse.
Where is the damn mechanical pencil?
Last night, I did manage to break this fascinating thought pattern long enough to watch E's True Hollywood Story on William and Kate, riveted to the TV as if I had no idea of the ending.
Few things annoy me more than small talk. I can imagine no greater waste of time. When interacting with others, I am eternally interested in the following:
What people think about
Why they made the decisions they have made
What motivates people's actions
How they feel about those actions
I am eternally bored by the following:
A travelogue of their last vacation
Their current acquisitions (home, car, etc.)
Their children's accomplishments
You can imagine how cocktail parties challenge me.
I ask a lot of questions when talking with others. After all, people are genuinely intriguing and, who knows? We might connect through a common area of interest.
Here's an example of questions I might ask at some point in our conversation:
What was that like for you?
What helped you form that opinion?
How did you make that decision?
Listen, I'm simply looking for an interesting conversation. I won't ask about the status of one's mental health, details of childhood or the relationship with one's mother. And I won't be submitting the answers to People Magazine.
Still, this must be incredibly uncomfortable, because it has been noted that others might feel interrogated by my questions. Frankly, I would enjoy it if someone were to ask me any one of these questions rather than blather on about the grandchildren. And I'd be happy to answer.
I mean, don't people ask themselves these questions??
Here's the thing: Instead of talking at each other, could we please talk with each other about something of meaning that engages both parties? Don't you think we could better understand other people through exploring our own feelings, responses and motivations?
To say I'm peeved is the understatement of the year. And I would be a lot more assertive in my 'peevement' if I wasn't also achy and weak from the flu.
I've missed two days of work, which is unheard of in my employment history. One day? Maybe. Two days? Oh, hell no.
But this year, our hospital made it mandatory that everyone get an annual flu shot. And, in my case, the flu itself. Any time the government, or big business says, 'come along, everyone, line up and get your Free Shot,' instinct tells me to run the other way.
Up until now, I have routinely signed the frowned-upon waiver that allows one to refuse the flu shot for the following reasons:
3) Egg allergy
4) Medical condition
Since there's never been a 'because I don't f**king want to' category, I have always marked 'other.'
Now, my employment depends upon it. So until we hit the lottery (and if you think about it, why not us?), I'll get the damn flu shot.
On Saturday, B-man and I took a little road trip for the day. Getting ready to leave, I thought, 'gee, I wish I had some Viva La Juicy to try on my skin.' I remembered receiving a sample of Juicy something-or-other from Sephora on my last visit.
Lo and behold, it was Viva La Juicy.
The perfume gods were smiling on me.
Upon fresh application, I thought, 'hmmm, this could be nice.' But it kept getting sweeter and sweeter. And stronger. Half way through our road trip, I thought, 'where can we stop so I can scrub this sh**?'
The perfume gods were laughing their asses off.
Viva La Juicy may be the only perfume on earth that streetwalkers find too slutty.