Bitch, bitch, moan, moan, smile.
Well, that’s what blogs are for, right? All week I’ve been tripping over a wee black hole. It gets me by the ankles when I’m not looking and down I go. So, if you don’t mind, a brief bitchette—
First, the house painters took three weeks instead of three days and even though they were painting outside no matter what room I went into one of their heads popped up in the window making me feel—naked and exposed, which I do not want to feel with a bunch of strangers. Not to mention that they made a botch-up first round and my normal working life was disrupted. In other words, for three weeks not much got done but other household projects.
Then, yes, sigh, my memoir was rejected by agent. It’s just one agent, of course, and she was very, very kind to offer her thoughts. And, I get what she’s saying. Sigh again. Which means more work. Or giving up.
Woe. The giving up thing. It crops up rarely but when it does I see that the black hole is a gaping one and might just swallow me up. It has a voice too and shouts
things like ‘hopeless’ and ‘you may as well put yourself in orthopedic shoes and sit in a beach chair in the shade because you are past it now, woman.’
What to do? I do try to leap over these pits or just plain turn away but sometimes evil-minded pixies conspire to rattle the mind and they succeed. I pictured myself in the shoes. So wrong. But not for long.
Then, last night I made fabulous swiss chard omelette invented by my wonderful friend, Kelly. You saute half an onion and a quarter cup of chopped orange pepper on low heat for a few minutes then add a couple of handfuls of chopped chard, a pinch or oregano and thyme, a wee bit of sea salt, some freshly ground black pepper. When the chard is wilted down you add four beaten eggs, put the lid on and cook at VERY low heat for five minutes or so. We had it with some sauteed potatoes and a salad. Would have added a thick slice of tomato but we’d had toasted tomato sandwiches for lunch.
Good food can wipe out a black hole in no time. And once the cork came off a nice bottle of Australian shiraz the pixies took flight.
Dear A is a writer himself and a teacher of literature so our chat turned to my own literary endeavors and after a few bites of this amazing omelette I was seeing most clearly how I’d side-stepped a key issue in my memoir regarding the role of women in the blues. And with a glass of red warming truly the whole of me, body and soul, I felt the old strength return. Even with more work ahead. It’s nothing!
And I’m loving the piece I’m doing now—the pure freedom of fiction is just plain fun.
And I believe in the power of mind, that we are all capable of doing the things we dream of doing, that those dreams come for a reason and we’re here to make them manifest. I mean we always dream great things, don’t we? What a world it would be if our dreams came true!
The sun is shining today and the house looks pretty good. I still have to choose a color to paint the front door, then will post a snap. And I actually got half of the garage painted when the painters were here, the half that we can see when we sit on the deck eating omelettes and sipping red wine and knowing that our lives are blessed beyond measure. Smile.
June 2nd, 2007 at 3:30 am
I know those black holes oh, so well. Sometimes I find it helps to just pretend it’s not happening for a bit until things shift. Though, of course, it’s a fine line between that and stuffing everything down unhealthily…so tricky this human walk, isn’t it?
June 2nd, 2007 at 4:33 am
Oh, yeah.
June 4th, 2007 at 2:02 pm
mdf,
Just clawed my way out of a ditch myself. We who are fortunate enough to still be alive and have more past than future can only aspire to wisdom. It is our one true advantage.
We artists will always be putting our necks on the block…it’s just the way we are. Damn it! It won’t matter in 50 years.
June 4th, 2007 at 4:16 pm
oh I can relate….and sometimes a bitch moan woe is me moment is just what the doctor orders…and when you come out of it you get to laugh at your folly and move on. part of this free lance, creative life we’ve created for ourselves has same amount of adventure and risk as an outward bound adventure. we hit the same peaks and valleys, hots and colds, feasts and famines, they’re just all in our heads! just keep on truckin’ as they used to say. rejection? pshaw….all the great artists and writers were rejected, some in downright ridiculous ways so just keep doin’ what you’re doin’ and you’ll find your way, i’m sure! and thanks for the laughs about the workmen–i know exactly what you mean about their little heads poking up and in wherever–great image!
June 4th, 2007 at 5:12 pm
mdf and Mary—Great to hear from you both and to know we artists are in this together. Here’s to keeping the faith!
June 6th, 2007 at 7:04 pm
Hole living seems to be going around….. I think it’s a sign of our times in this culture. It’s hard to earn a living in the arts. How to transcend it? To be the light we want to see in the world. To keep perspective: my niece, who has been a guest of the Army in Iraq, is here for a 2 week visit. She is safe for now. I don’t live in Baghdad or in the Gaza Strip. My home wasn’t decimated by Katrina. The sun is shining (a rarity in NE OH). My children are beautiful and healthy. That which enables us to see the dark and to feel the pain, also shows us incredible beauty and light.
June 6th, 2007 at 8:11 pm
Hi Debra! Thanks for showing us how to look on the bright side. And good wishes to your niece.