Sapheyerblu Review

Archive for January, 2010

Is it just me getting old, or all the up and coming writers out there a really dark breed? I remember wanting to be a writer so bad when I was younger that I’d write just about anything and let just about anyone read it. That’s not to say any of it was good, but I had a dream and I would try anything I could to see it come to pass. Now, I see all these young writers making a name for themselves in some really gruesome ways. No, I don’t mean they’re doing gruesome things, but the things they’re writing is kind of disturbing.

Ok, maybe it’s because I’m at an age now where every time I land a new writing client, I feel like a million bucks. “What, you want me to write about tree bark toilet paper? Sure, no sweat. Been writing about it all my life”. I know I’ve never written about it before, but I still have to make my clients look and sound like genius’s. That’s the life of a ghost writer. But I’m thrilled to be writing anything. So I’m not writing the great American novel. Yes, I tried but I have these strange beings in my house who seem to think they have to eat everyday AND wear clean clothes. Man!!!

I like to rummage through the various sites for writers all across the Internet. Most writers forums are basically like walking into a bookstore full of those uppity-ups that think their smarter than you because they use big words. Hey buddy, read my lips, unless you’re making a million bucks telling everyone else what they’re doing wrong, shut the hell up. I have no patients for people who think their better than everyone else, especially when they’re 20 years younger than I am. No, I didn’t go to Harvard or Yale, but I pushed two living, breathing human beings out of my body and I did it without drugs. I wanted drugs, but that’s a different story.

I guess I’m just getting old. I hate getting old, but at the same time I’m starting to see some advantages to it. I now understand all those weird sayings that used to come out of my father’s mouth. I’m finally at an age where I can look forward to my children moving out on their own, and actually enjoy the idea. I’m almost old enough to qualify for life insurance without a medical exam, and I can finally tell my mother to quit complaining because “I have the same problem and bitching don’t help”.

I guess my problem isn’t with the pieces that these young writers are putting out there, I have an issue with the way they do it. I never thought I’d be the “old chic” sitting in the back of the room wondering why the hell I came to this show. I always imagined myself the young, hip chic who knew it all. Well, I finally do know it all. Too bad I lost all the damn questions.

To all parents/grandparents/guardians of teenaged children. If you love your kids, then you need to watch this segment from Inside Edition. I sat here and watched this today and found myself sickened by what I witnessed. A man comes home one day, to find his teenaged daughter dead from hanging on her bedroom door. Not as a suicide, but playing a new game called The Choking Game.

These kids are depriving themselves and/or other kids of air, simply to pass out. This little game is video taped then uploaded to the Internet to be seen all around the world. If you’ve got kids in the house, you’ve got to talk to them about this. I couldn’t believe the things I saw these kids doing on TV. Choking each other, pressing against their chests until they pass out. Then laughing about it when they regain consciousness.

As I sat there and watched that episode, I could only see the face of my own daughter in those videos. I couldn’t even imagine coming home to find my child dead because of a game. This isn’t something that can be ignored. Even if you’re the coolest parent in the world, this isn’t something you can overlook.

Please, if you have kids, take this seriously. I’m not the kind of person who gets up on a soap box about a lot of things, but this one just kinda got to me. My daughter may end up hating me, but we will be discussing this issue when she gets home from school today. I never want to come home and find my baby gone.

Do you still believe in your dreams? I do. I run another blog called The Prompt Writer where I offer writing prompts, or ideas, to other writers. This week’s theme was believing in your dreams and I got the coolest comment from a gal called T-Geek Girl. She said becoming a writer has always been her biggest dream, and that’s exactly how I feel.

I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was about 10 years old. I realized early on that I had a knack for creating fantasy world and imaginary people. Though I have older sisters, I spent most of my younger years alone. Because of that, I created friends to play with and entire worlds around them. Eventually, I found out that some people actually got paid to do just that.

I had one real problem though, I totally hated school. I found out from 7th grade on that there was a whole lot of things to do that were way more fun. Like a total moron, I quit school half way through my junior year, but I never quit writing. A couple years later, I met the man I would eventually end up marrying. We had a couple of kids and went to great lengths to make sure they had way better lives than either one of us had. But, I never quit writing.

Shortly after my son was born, I began writing a romance on an old manual typewriter. I gave me a chance to go back to those imaginary worlds I had created so many years before, and improve upon each and every word. I once again invented friends and enemies that came to feel almost real. But it wasn’t until we got our first computer that every thing I’d ever dreamed of finally came into focus.

I got my first computer in 1997, and I never looked back. Since that time, I’ve written several short stories, poems, and hundreds of articles. But more than that, I’ve been paid to do so. And as far as I’m concerned, that means I’ve managed to see my dream come full circle. I may not be the next Jackie Collins or Stephan King, but I’m doing what I’ve always wanted to do, and I’m getting paid in the process. And honestly, isn’t that what it’s all about???

Ok, so here’s the thing. I’ve been feeling very ugly lately. I know that’s probably a pretty common thing for women my age, but it was getting like really, really bad. I was getting to the point that every time I looked into the mirror, I wanted to smash it with a hammer. Of course, the fact that I’m over 40 and I cry at just about everything these days couldn’t have had anything to do with it, right???

Anyway, I went and did it. I dyed my hair. Ok, I’m sure most of you are like “yeah, so what”. For me, this is a huge deal. I’m not the kinda girl who dyes my hair. I don’t do my nails, I don’t have 10,000 hair care products, and I don’t wear a ton of jewelry. Yes, I wear make up, but that’s only because I don’t want to scare the little kids in the neighborhood.

I had bought a box of hair color that I thought would cover up my severely gray hair. I’m a natural red-head and I missed it. I wasn’t totally gray yet, but it was pretty bad. The color I bought, however, was called “light golden brown”. I had read an article that said that the reason red-headed women had to dye their hair so often was that the chemicals used to make the red colors doesn’t adhere to the hair very well. Yeah, ok, so brown should do better. Cool.

So, I ran in the bathroom tonight because I knew that if I didn’t do it right then and there, that box of hair color would still be sitting there come Doomsday. I mixed the two bottles of stinking chemicals together, pulled on the wanna-be-a-real-pair-of-gloves, and started squeezing this crap onto my head. When it started out, it was a real pretty golden color. But, by the time I’d gotten to the bottom of that bottle, it was kind of a putrid-gutter water shade of brown. I was freaking out, but kept on keeping on.

Ok, this crap is in my hair and I’m getting buzzed from the odor. Weeeeeeeeee!! Anyway, I set my timer for 25 minutes and waited. I swear, that is always the longest flipping 25 minutes in history. I kept checking in the mirror in my room to see if I could tell the difference, and noticed right away that my hair was getting really fricking dark. Light golden brown my ass. My hair was beginning to look almost black. Holy crap, my hubby’s gonna have a stroke when he sees this. Ok, Chris, don’t panic.

At the end of those long 25 minutes, I made my way to the bathroom and began the adventure of trying to stick my head underneath the bath tub faucet without falling in and busting my face open. I’ve never been known for my graceful tendencies and this balancing act is fun with all the fumes and the standing on my head thing.

So, I get all the color rinsed out of my head, add a little conditioner hoping all those gray hairs won’t feel so much like fishing line anymore, and toweled off. I slowly turned to look in the mirror and couldn’t believe my eyes. I screamed for my daughter to come in the bathroom to get her opinion. Being a teenager, she has a lot of them. She squealed with delight. “Oh mom, it’s awesome”, she said. I kinda thought so too, but didn’t say anything. I wanted to see it after I’d dried it and got it the way I wanted. So, I went through the whole routine of blow dryer, hair straightener (I have naturally curly hair too), and curling iron (they don’t curl the way I want them to). And when it was all said and done, I was a fricking red head again. I went through all of this and ended up with red hair anyway. Man, this getting old crap sucks.

I’ve decided that I need to do a little something good for myself and set on getting back into shape.  I know that at my age, gravity is not my friend.  Now that I’m over 40, things droop a whole lot more than they did 10 years ago.  So, I’ve decided to eat better and am going to try to exercise.  I stress the word “try” because at my age, it’s not a good idea to guarantee anything.  Let me explain.

So, this morning I decided to put my plan into effect.  I have this little stair stepper thing that I use once in a while.  I got it out and put it right next to my bed.  No problem.  But one of my biggest problems is the little mommy pooch I have.  And, I know that the only way I’m going to overcome that is by doing sit-ups.  So, I got down on the floor, and OMG.  When the hell did the floor get so far down and why the hell did it hurt so bad to simply sit up.  I did 25 sit-ups and I thought I was going to hurl.  I am not a large woman by any sense of the meaning, but What The Hell!!!!!

I know that if I keep at it, it won’t be such a big deal, but that whole first time thing sucks.  I’ll keep going, whether I like it or not, and hopefully I’ll be a little more graceful.  Oh hell, who am I kidding, I’ve never been a graceful woman before, and it ain’t gonna happen now.  But, if I can still fit into my jeans, I’ll at least know I did something good for myself.