"We should totally blog about each other while we're sitting here blogging," says Kid.
Ok.
I'm blogging about Kid blogging about me and we are bloggers blogging in a cafe. IT'S SO 2002! Except we're not at Starbucks.
Actually,, I'm sitting in one of my favorite venues in Baltimore City to write (and no, I'm not gonna give up it's super secret location because it serves a splendid tea AS WELL AS a badass champagne sangria, and I don't want it overrun - totes kidding, it's Teavolve), and here I am supposed to write things and stuff.
Ugh. Writing is hard.
So, the Writing Challenge I took on with Lee was a total bust. The first week was awesome - five days, 40 minutes a day. Done and done, no sweat, and I think I even maybe did more than 40 minutes some nights.
But the second week...ugh. I came home from work late a couple'a times, and then one night I decided that all I needed to do to still be a human being was watch four Netflixed episodes of Mad Men.
It was not my finest showing.
At least some things got done. I wrote some words and put some nice punctuation between the sentences.
The Gentleman says that if I'm going to continue to write my book piecemeal, he will continue with acquiring my puppy piecemeal. Which is really gross. And kind of a horrible thing to say to me.
I digress.
Oh wait - did I fail to mention that The Gentleman promised me a puppy if I write a book? HE DID. IT IS SET IN STONE BECAUSE I POSTED IT AS A FACEBOOK STATUS.
In reality, the conversation went something like this:
ME: I want a puppy.
THE GENTLEMAN: No puppy. You already have two cats. It would be a zoo.
ME: I WANT A PUPPY.
THE GENTLEMAN: You can have a puppy if you write a book.
ME: Are you saying that if I write a book, you will get me a puppy.
THE GENTLEMAN: (totally not realizing that I was 100% serious and he was, like, 34% serious) Yes, sure. If you write a book, you can have a puppy.
DONE AND DONE, GOOD SIR.
Anyhoodle, so this whole book-writing thing is turning out to be hard. Writing takes so much time. And then there are my excellent powers of procrastination.
I was asking my friend over at I Think I'll Make It if she keeps a workout log, because she's a trainer and totally buff. And she said, "No, that's not my hobby. Writing is my hobby."
Ah, crap.
I have many hobbies.
Writing, running, reading, crocheting, cooking, drinking, book clubbing, among others.
But do we really have to choose just one?
After the wedding last weekend in San Fran and after attending a Happy Hour this week put together by co-workers of one of my roommates, I found myself answering this same question over and over and over again: What do you do? As in - professionally. This is the single most defining question people tend to ask, but I don't believe it's necessarily because we are so defined by our professions. I think that it's the most socially-acceptable question people feel they can ask upon first meeting someone.
But the truth is - we do a lot of things. Or, at least, I do.
Now, I totally get that I have a huge problem with discipline and focus. If I'm going to call myself a writer, I damn well need to get on that whole writing thing. But I'm reaching a point where I realize that I will never be just one thing.
What do I do? I work in administration for a nonprofit organization in Baltimore City that provides social services to some of the most marginalized popoulations. I run. I write. I read things. I love. I cook. I travel. I take pictures. I collage. I cuddle with my cats. I museum. I ride my bike.
And when I finally do finish writing my book, I will still do and be all of these things.
But, for now, I'm blogging in a cafe and sitting across from a friend who is blogging about me blogging about him. Times infinity.
Ok.
I'm blogging about Kid blogging about me and we are bloggers blogging in a cafe. IT'S SO 2002! Except we're not at Starbucks.
Actually,, I'm sitting in one of my favorite venues in Baltimore City to write (and no, I'm not gonna give up it's super secret location because it serves a splendid tea AS WELL AS a badass champagne sangria, and I don't want it overrun - totes kidding, it's Teavolve), and here I am supposed to write things and stuff.
Ugh. Writing is hard.
So, the Writing Challenge I took on with Lee was a total bust. The first week was awesome - five days, 40 minutes a day. Done and done, no sweat, and I think I even maybe did more than 40 minutes some nights.
But the second week...ugh. I came home from work late a couple'a times, and then one night I decided that all I needed to do to still be a human being was watch four Netflixed episodes of Mad Men.
It was not my finest showing.
At least some things got done. I wrote some words and put some nice punctuation between the sentences.
The Gentleman says that if I'm going to continue to write my book piecemeal, he will continue with acquiring my puppy piecemeal. Which is really gross. And kind of a horrible thing to say to me.
I digress.
Oh wait - did I fail to mention that The Gentleman promised me a puppy if I write a book? HE DID. IT IS SET IN STONE BECAUSE I POSTED IT AS A FACEBOOK STATUS.
In reality, the conversation went something like this:
ME: I want a puppy.
THE GENTLEMAN: No puppy. You already have two cats. It would be a zoo.
ME: I WANT A PUPPY.
THE GENTLEMAN: You can have a puppy if you write a book.
ME: Are you saying that if I write a book, you will get me a puppy.
THE GENTLEMAN: (totally not realizing that I was 100% serious and he was, like, 34% serious) Yes, sure. If you write a book, you can have a puppy.
DONE AND DONE, GOOD SIR.
Anyhoodle, so this whole book-writing thing is turning out to be hard. Writing takes so much time. And then there are my excellent powers of procrastination.
I was asking my friend over at I Think I'll Make It if she keeps a workout log, because she's a trainer and totally buff. And she said, "No, that's not my hobby. Writing is my hobby."
Ah, crap.
I have many hobbies.
Writing, running, reading, crocheting, cooking, drinking, book clubbing, among others.
But do we really have to choose just one?
After the wedding last weekend in San Fran and after attending a Happy Hour this week put together by co-workers of one of my roommates, I found myself answering this same question over and over and over again: What do you do? As in - professionally. This is the single most defining question people tend to ask, but I don't believe it's necessarily because we are so defined by our professions. I think that it's the most socially-acceptable question people feel they can ask upon first meeting someone.
But the truth is - we do a lot of things. Or, at least, I do.
Now, I totally get that I have a huge problem with discipline and focus. If I'm going to call myself a writer, I damn well need to get on that whole writing thing. But I'm reaching a point where I realize that I will never be just one thing.
What do I do? I work in administration for a nonprofit organization in Baltimore City that provides social services to some of the most marginalized popoulations. I run. I write. I read things. I love. I cook. I travel. I take pictures. I collage. I cuddle with my cats. I museum. I ride my bike.
And when I finally do finish writing my book, I will still do and be all of these things.
But, for now, I'm blogging in a cafe and sitting across from a friend who is blogging about me blogging about him. Times infinity.
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