Seconds ago, I had the idea to start posting from this blog in the third person. Why? Because I believe it will help get me into storytelling mode to write my novel, and what funner way to get into storytelling mode than by narrating your own silly thoughts, actions, and characteristics? I also think it will make this blog a tad more entertaining because it will read like a novel–a novel about one  girl, trying to write a novel and be something great. And other things occasionally.

The second fine idea Monique had this evening was to put this idea she’s had sizzling in the back of her mind to good use. She’d put this problem on hold for many a fortnight because she’d stumbled onto the problem of creating a website to house said fine idea. There simply weren’t enough resources or creative minds at her disposal to get this project going, and so she focused on her words, her Subway sandwiches, slam poetry YouTube videos, and fake mustaches, anything but this one fine idea. And so the idea simmered, snoozed and was almost snuffed until…

Today was the day she found a solution when she wasn’t even looking for it, and the solution came in the form of a single word: Tumblr. This was the free and easy space that would house this fine idea because its platform was right for the job. She raced home, moaning inwardly that her gimp knee prevented her from running this evening, but determined to make something happen. She tossed her worrying to the winds and focused solely upon this one, single, monumental thing, and by golly she did it! She created a tumblr account (not her first) and posted a post, and created  a Twitter and Gmail account specifically for this great thing in the back of her mind that she’s always wanted to do.  And even though she didn’t get much studying done for the GMAT tonight, and even though she is starving because that little whositwhatsit she ate for dinner was about the size of a saucer, she is thrilled.

What was this fine idea you ask? She thought you’d never!

It’s a blog where anyone can submit five good things that happened to them today, yesterday, and every day. Monique has found that merely reading about five good things that happen to people throughout their day puts the biggest smile on her face, bringing more good things her way. She does of course realize that throngs of people may have something similar going on with friends and family, but has yet to see a shared network of people celebrating the good.

Anyone can submit their five things via email or under the “Ask” page, and she’ll post them for our little world to see. While this blog is still in its infancy, check it out when you’re not busy being so great: http://yourfivethings.tumblr.com.

I’m writing a short story about boobs. I didn’t intend for it to be about boobs when I started out, but that’s just what my character started talking about and who was I to put a muzzle on her? Boobs are the most celebrated part of a woman’s body.  There are marathons run in their honor, whole armies of men willing to barter their souls for a peek at the right pair and without them, many a plastic surgeon would go hungry. Why not balance all of the phallic symbols in literature with a little tit?

Here’s my pickle: I find that my writing is sloppy and under-cooked. No longer am I paying attention to making the story sound good with colorful words and gall stone nuggets of wisdom. I’m just writing in black and white and it’s boring me. My problem is I’m not reading enough literature. I’ve been dwelling too long in the subzero icebox that is non-fiction that I’ve forgotten how to describe a scene so it is lukewarm and felt. Furthermore, I’m impatient. I can’t for the life of me dedicate myself to something longer than two pages. Takes too long to cook. I get tired of standing around.

Tonight I stuck it out though, and I think I’m making progress. Sometimes you have to stick it out when the awesome doesn’t bloom because eventually it does and I promise, you won’t be too tired to see it. I reached down deep into the corazon, because that’s where the heat lies, and that’s what makes my stories and poems come alive. It’s where the good is. I pull out things I didn’t know existed until I see them on the screen and when I do I am satisfied, shocked, and a little bit cured.

The story is called Poorly Drawn Circles. It’s two pages deep, and I may or may not add more to it. I’m a flash fiction kind of gal because I am aware that attention span is the scarcest thing on the planet. Or because I get tired of standing around. Either way, since I’ve mentioned it here, I’m more motivated to finish it and get some feedback. Stand by.

I sat in traffic for an hour to get on the “List ‘O’ Awesome” at the open mic poetry reading last Thursday, and even after I signed up I was 100% sure I’d back out. Watching the video of me that night, I realized I could never be a public speaker because I really do sort of cringe at the sound of my own voice. In other news, I had a beautiful experience.

Something marvelous happened, and when something marvelous happens it only happens when you’re not expecting it, which I certainly was not. I was on my third glass of wine because I needed liquid encouragement. I was giggling and whispering with Melody because we were nervous school girls. A woman went up because it was her turn to speak her piece, and the room got silent. I was only half paying attention at first because Melody and I were giving each other queasy looks–it was almost our time to shine. The woman at the microphone then mentioned that she had been scouring the invite for the open mic poetry night on Facebook, perusing the list of names that were attending. Somehow, by the power of God or one of his fallen, she found this blog–this one here. The one your reading now. Mine. Not only did she find it however, she printed out a passage from my last post and read it to the entire audience. It was the first time I had ever heard anyone read my writing aloud. I felt like a proud mother watching her child win a spelling bee.

I teared up, but the wine could have had a hand in that. I had never been so moved in my life. I felt like cherry pie. When I went up to recite my midget-sized poems, I told the audience that I was the blogger this wonderful woman had spoken about, and how appreciative I was that my midnight rambles had moved her to share them with the crowd. Then I said my bit, and I wasn’t the least bit nervous. Thank you lady chardonnay.

Afterwards, Melody and I hung out for a drink and I actually got to meet the woman who read my writing aloud. I think I was more a fan of her than she was of my writing. I wanted to kneel at her feet and tell her that all I want out of life is for people to feel uplifted, the way I do after I write. It was the first time I ever felt like I could exhale and say…there. I did it. 

I don’t ever want that feeling to go away.

Public speaking scares me. Crowds petrify me. I was horrible in Speech class, horrible at giving presentations, horrible in meetings to this day even. I can’t even imagine doing a reading at a book store were I ever to publish said novel. I get nervous around authors even, when I ask them to sign my books.

But this Thursday, come hell or high water, I’m going to recite two or three of my very own poems on Open Mic Poetry night at Vinatero Wine Shop. My friend Jax sent me the invite awhile back, and I only looked at it tonight. It’s basically a wine shop where they open up the mic to anyone who wants to read their poetry. Poetry karaoke basically. And where karaoke is concerned, I know from past experience that once you do one song, you want to get up there and do a million more, no matter how badly you sound (that’s me last year on the right with the hair). I’m hoping this poetry open mic thing has the same effect on me.

And when you think about it, the question you have to start asking yourself in any situation you’re fearful of is what’s the worst that could happen? Are they going to boo me off stage? Tell me my writing is crap, and I’ll never make it? What exactly am I afraid of here? I think more than anything I’m afraid I’ll fuck up.

All I know is it’s 2012 and it’s time to go big or go home. The first week of 2012 is already gone, somersaulting around in some other fabric of time or getting gnawed on by rapacious Langoliers. I spent it working on a gift for Melody’s 27th birthday, and this week, now that I am all set up with my dual monitors, I am ready to face the music–or the people in this case. I want to do things this year that I have been too afraid to do in past years, and walk around outside of my comfort level a bit. I made salmon tonight ferkrissakes! SALMON. You’re talking to a frozen dinner gal here, who barely knows how to bake pizza. I was actually a little anxious about making it, but I did it and by golly it came out fantastic.

I didn’t really make any resolutions for 2012, because I feel like they dissolve quicker than snowflakes on the tongue. Instead I am revisiting my values, and implementing better habits. Spending less money, eating better, drinking less, walking slower, seizing opportunities to display some of the darkest corners of my mind to complete strangers at wine shops, that sort of thing. Above all, I feel smaller and smaller every day with regard to my place in the universe, and it’s gotten me realizing that no matter how big of an issue I think something is, the universe thinks bigger and will always beat me at arm wrestling. Which means no matter what you do, in the end the ground will swallow you whole and the black holes will keep on blacking and the worm holes will keep on worming and the sun will keep right on sunning and they won’t even think twice about it. Which means that thing you’ve been thinking is real big and scary?  There’s nothing to it.

We’ll see how well this pep talk works right before I go on stage.

2012 smells like a rose garden I can’t wait to step in, or a bowl of Velveeta mac n’ cheese I can’t wait to dive into. I awoke this morning feeling golden, in my best friend Melody’s bed. We had more than a few glasses of champagne on New Year’s day at the Library Bar in downtown, and after discussing everything from reincarnation to being buried alive, we realized how great we felt about 2012, and how much we learned in 2011. Clink!

On New Year’s eve I had a wonderful dinner with the family, and my uncle brought all of us girls roses. Mine is sitting next to me now. Afterward, I drove back to my apartment to partake in a party my roommate Mario and I were throwing, and one of the best New Year’s Eve’s of my life.

When I was younger, my dad, stepmom, sister and I used to hang out until midnight on New Years Eve playing board games and watching Dick Clark on NBC. ABC? One of those channels. Since I turned 21, I haven’t spent an evening like those old ones, hanging around with the ones you love in the safety and comfort of your own living room, chanting 10, 9, 8…in unison until the ball drops and everybody cheers. This party was like that. There were only about 22 people there, just enough to have a good time without worrying about anyone goingoverboard. We started at 30 seconds, and when we reached 2012 the cheering could have been heard a mile away. My best friend Melody was the first to hug me, and as she did she said in my ear “Your dad would be so proud of you.” It reminded me why we are friends, and made me feel all warm inside like a kid tucked into an electric blanket after drinking a big mug of hot chocolate. With marshmallows.

Needless to say, a wonderful New Year’s bash was the perfect way to celebrate the new year. The past couple of days I’ve felt the tides turning a bit, in a more sparkly direction. I feel a rush of good change, coupled with a wave of sunshine and good friends. This year I am buckling down as I shuffle along the path to grad school like an old lady. Three things I’m focusing on this month are studying for the GMAT, finding an accounting class to take, and joining SMARTY. Membership with SMARTY is a little pricey, but I think it will be worth it in the long run.

And yes, I’m writing. I haven’t been working on my novel, but I’ve just about wrapped up a short story, and I have 3 poems that are solid enough to submit. This week I will submit the poems, and share the short story with a couple of friends before I have the courage to submit it. It’s about boobs and cats. You’d like it.

Overall I feel especially blessed to have made it to another year with wonderful people in my life from all angles. My dad always used to say how important it was to surround yourself with good people, and I can say with certainty that there isn’t a single person in my life that is bringing me down. Even casual acquaintances have been so inspiring to me, and fill me up with good feeling, like a good glass of bubbly.

I hope you have a good feeling about the new year too. Every single day is another chance to start over, but the new year is a great way of compartmentalizing a section of your life into a large plastic tub and labeling it with a word, looking forward to the spitballs and lemon squirts 2012 is likely to chuck your way. And rest assured, there will be lemon squirts. The question is whether or not you’ll let them sting.

Below is a video of Melody and I proclaiming our friendship, and taking our last tequila shot of 2011. Let’s get this party started.