Things I Will Not Leave The House For During The Polar Vortex.

Shoveling snow. Even though there is a 1913 city ordinance that says I need to clear my sidewalk. Even though that wiseass from down the street slipped and almost fell right outside my window. Because it is 22 degrees at 2 PM and the stupid snow is still falling and I’ll only have to do it again in like two hours and anyway I have vodka and Netflix. And my sweet cuddly kitty.

A trip to the gym. Because what makes you think I will go work out when I won’t shovel snow and anyway it’s 4:30 and I’ve been drinking vodka for two and a half hours. It’s like you don’t even know me any more.

Rescuing a friend stuck on the highway. Even though I would want someone to do it for me. Even though people have done it for me. Because I am a bitch with roadside assistance. And because I am cozy and warm and have lots and lots of lovely vodka and the snow looks better from inside my house.

Batteries for my vibrator. Even after the bitter disappointment of cannibalizing the double As from the TV remote only to spill vodka on them, and then to remember that I don’t own a television and they are probably more than 7 years old. Even though it’s only 6:30 PM and why do you care what time of day it is when my vibrator is on my mind? You’re very judgy.

Drinks with Friends. Even though I am an extreme extrovert. Even though I have not seen another living being since 10 AM. Even though I am halfway through the vodka. Because clearly not one of you freaks is worth braving the now 4 degree temperatures because it you were worth anything YOU WOULD HAVE ANTICIPATED ME RUNNING OUT OF VODKA OR YOU WOULD BE HERE DRINKING WITH ME. HAVE YOU EVEN MET ME?

Vodka. Even though the situation is dire at 7:30 PM. Even though the bottle has only two more drinks. Even though I am scant seconds away from moving on to Tier Two beverages, which include Bacon Vodka, Port, Blue Curacao and one drink’s worth of shitty rum. Because deep in my soul I believe I can make one spectacular drink with all of these and call it DEATH BY POLAR VORTEX BECAUSE MY FRIENDS ALL SUCK.

Food. Even though I am completely alone, friendless and vodkaless at 8:30 PM. Even though the spectacularly awesome DEATH BY POLAR VORTEX has left me befuddled and starving. Or maybe BECAUSE I am befuddled and starving. Because I have rice. And sardines. And Maraschino Cherries. And mushroom bullion. And mayonnaise. I WILL SURVIVE. I HAVE THE INTERNET AND I KNOW I CAN LIVE ON SARDINES AND MARASCHINO CHERRIES. IF YOU LOVE ME BRING ME FOOD. AND VODKA. AND BATTERIES. AND MAKE MORE EPISODES OF THE GILMORE GIRLS.

Fast Food. Even though it has been clearly demonstrated to me that living on sardines and maraschino cherries was THE WORST IDEA EVER. Even though the closest drive through is still open. BECAUSE THERE IS TWO FEET OF GODDAMN SNOW IN THE STREET AND I PROBABLY COULDN’T DRIVE IN THIS SOBER AND I HOPW YOU ALL ARE GLADD THAT I WIL DIE ALONE FROM INDIGESTION AND DEHYDRATION AND LACK OF SELF STUMULATION AND DEATH BY POLAR VORTES DRINKS AND MIXING BACON VODKA AND PORT WAS INCREDIBLY FUCKING DUMB AND THEY WILL FIND MY DESSICATED BODY FORLORNLY IN THE MIDDLE OF MY LIVING ROOM WITH MY STUPID CROSS EYED CAT SITTING NEXT TO IT BITCHING FOR FOOD.

Please bring tums.

(note, I will be posting some humorous stuff on this blog in addition to the writing and eavesdropping stuff I usually publish. Also no vodka was harmed...er...drunk...er....there was not an entire bottle of vodka available when I wrote this. The vodka consumption was greatly exaggerated.)

On Transformation

Woke up musing about change and transformation. I took a look back at some posts on my blog here, and I see that this topic comes up now and again -- makes sense. Life is full of change and therefore transformation.  Because what are we after change but transformed?

I am struggling a bit with the final edits on my novel in progress, and I think this musing today is the key.  While I have focused well enough on the plot points and driven the story from where I wanted it to start to where I wanted it to end, I think I have not paid enough attention to the transformation of the character -- within the small plot points and overall from the beginning to the end.

And I don't mean necessarily the kind of transformation that the caterpillar undergoes to become the butterfly. No, the changes in our lives are sometimes far more minuscule than a complete and utter re imagining of ourselves. More subtle.  The changes in our lives are a realization, the recognition of an absence, the small revelation of love where we expected none.

And yet we are transformed as surely as the caterpillar becomes the butterfly. The pre-transformative self is not our true self, I think. Our true selves are buried deep inside and we peel off layer by layer with each change and each experience, to become whatever remains, more essentially ourselves.  Oh and we fight this change, we fight the becoming, but it is inevitable that it happen, that we move forward, that we progress. That we transform, even if we go to this fate kicking and screaming.

For my writing time today I plan to comb though my plot, point by point and look for the opportunities to dig into the changes my character experiences, to allow her to transform into her own version of the butterfly, to find the truth of herself under the layers we have peeled back to get her from the beginning to the end of her plot line.

And sometime soon, maybe after coffee, I will spend a little time doing the same for me -- what have I transformed into, and what changes lie ahead. It'll be easier working with my character Else, because there is no need to fear her change, her transformation. And I tend to fear my own, a little anyway, even as I jump into the next adventures with both feet.

But it seems kind of dumb to fear the inevitable.

Happy words, folks. And happy transformations.