Where For Art Thou, Inspiration?

I have now joined the ranks of those who loiter in Starbucks with a laptop, attempting to tap into an inner Hemingway and come up with something worthy of a publisher. So far though, I have responded to 4 emails, checked the weather forecast and looked at 9 different pictures of my cats. Literary inspiration may have to wait until my next visit.

On many occasions I have logged time at Starbucks commiserating with girlfriends about the state of a variety of circumstances. I have been intrigued with the tables occupied by a sole coffee drinker and a laptop. Many patrons are clearly students. I actually spent 2 hours sitting next to someone who was reviewing STD infection rates in Manitoba with many explicit graphs and details flashing across his computer screen. Talk about not being able to look away. However, being an accidental observer of such information made me feel much better about the situation I had shown up to bemoan. Suddenly a husband with a tendency toward insensitivity is a bargain compared to the infectious alternatives that are apparently so prevalent. Who knew?

I can't help but think of JK Rowling - who conceived the idea of Harry Potter over a cup of tea, and proceeded to spill out her inspiration long hand with a pad of paper. I cannot remember the last time I wrote out anything that couldn't fit on a post-it note. However, JK didn't have to deal with the temptation of a mean game of "minesweeper" looming just a click or two away.

I'm not sure where exactly inspiration comes from. I suppose that's part of the mystery and part of the journey.

Stephen King says that if you are a writer you feel compelled to write. It's as if you don't have a choice. The only things I'm ever consistently compelled to do involve snacking and napping - often in close succession.

It's so scary to be taking a shot at the one thing I always thought I was meant to do, and having to accept that maybe I'm wrong. I suppose that's what keeps so many of us from ever taking a shot in the first place. Than again, what if I'm right?

It's far too early to tell, and I am giddy with the opportunity to try. However, my quest for inspiration will have to wait until tomorrow. According to the forecast flurries are coming, and I kind of miss my cats.

Time Well Spent!

For the first time in my life I am without an official “job”. Not even looking for one. I have the odd little gig or two on the side but in terms of a place to show up at for a specific time period, 5 days a week – nada. I was briefly without a job in 1995 as I transitioned from the Women’s Television Network to what was Mix 103.1 – but even that was just a week or two at most. Otherwise I have had at least one job – often more – since 10^th grade. No need to calculate just how many years I’m talking about. Suffice it to say, I am used to being a bit of a “worker bee”.

However, 2 and a half months after pulling the plug on a situation that clearly didn’t work for me any longer, I am discovering the strangest things to be true;

1.  The days will pass (often rather quickly) whether I accomplish a great big to-do list, or spend it catching up with all of the Real Housewives (very few of which are actually by definition “housewives”)

2.  I now get the same sense of complete and utter satisfaction from having a pot of homemade soup on the stove as I used to get from landing the lead singer of a bar band. (On the plus side I never regret the soup).

3.  My house is not cleaner or better organized than it was when I worked full time, however I have recovered 17 Power Stars in Super Mario Galaxy.

4.  If you don’t take care of yourself – no one else will.

I’ve heard discussions so many times on a variety of talk shows about the power, if not necessity of “putting yourself first on the list”. It seems in theory to be so selfish. I am starting to see that it’s absolutely true.  There are always going to be people who are more than happy to let you continue to accept less than you deserve – I was surrounded by them. What do you believe? What will you accept?

The other night I told my husband that this is the happiest period of my life. I never dreamt that could be true without some fancy job or title, but it is. I'm not sure the bank agrees, but I'll worry about them later.

Stay Well.

All This For A Buck??

I love the dollar store. Okay – perhaps love is a little strong, but I have a definite appreciation for what a dollar can actually buy you in these places. This has not always been my approach to the “buck” store. There was a time that I was a bit of a hold-out. A buck store snob if you will. I initially had a bit of judgement regarding the bargain shops. I believed them to be a bit dank, dusty and contain nothing that was of any real use to me. As sure as I can admit my folly, I also believe that the enterprise has stepped up a bit. The selection and presentation of such stores has grown in leaps and bounds. Well, at least in leaps – and I am more than happy to denounce my former judgements. The buck store is alright with me.

In fact – don’t you just love the feeling of being on a spree? Of shopping with reckless abandon? Feeling almost Trump like as you realize you don’t have to choose between the lime green and hot pink micro-fibre duster. You can have them both! Are you certain that you have at least 672 hair clips misplaced somewhere inside you house and car, and therefore really shouldn’t buy anymore…who cares?? Just throw them in the basket. Splurge as you have never splurged before! And at the end of it all; $18.92. I’m no Kardashian, but tell me that ain’t living?

A recent trip to my guilty pleasure did cause me some concern. I actually stumbled upon an “Ovulation Detector” at the buck store. Ummmm – no judgement – but I’m thinking if you’re tossing one of these bad boys in with your gum and batteries, you probably can’t afford the kid. Okay, I guess that’s judgement – but come on! Can we not agree that the buck store should have absolutely no role to play in the propagation of the species? Let’s stick with what made the dollar store great; bungee cords, toilet brushes and little plastic bins. By the way, if you find yourself drowning in a sea of plastic organizers and containers are you still considered a hoarder? Can you be an organized hoarder? My rainbow stack of microfiber dusters suggests you can.