IT'S CHRISTMAS!!
Last week, I spent more time socializing, and getting ready to socialize, than anything else. The SmashingFoxyMinx was a hit at the Evil Multinational's Staff Party. I am assuming I was a hit based on the slurry, drunken compliments I received and the stellar comment from one of the "higher-ups" telling me that she almost didnt recognize me (do I look THAT BAD on a daily basis?). Of course, I had to spend a substantial amount of time avoiding one of my co-workers who, in his intoxicated state, suddenly found it cool to slap me on my arm every time I went to the bar and scream my name out as loudly as possible. I smiled politely while I imagined myself confiscating his hand for the rest of the night. Needless to say, his cool factor is now -3.
This being Christmas week, I have been more than happy to lay low. As a child, I used to look forward to Christmas. I remember one year, sitting down around my 20 gifts from various aunties and uncles, giving a big toothless grin to my mother's camera, utterly proud that little me had managed to amass so many treats. I got goosebumps on Christmas Eve, intoxicated by the smells of my grandmother's fruit cake, and my mother's baked chicken. I would fall asleep during midnight mass and conveniently awake when we arrived home - just in time to open my gifts. These days, I can count the number of gifts I receive on one hand, if not one finger. I am constantly annoyed at all the Christmas commercials encouraging people to spend more money. I refuse to listen to any of the cheesy Christmas songs, unless there is a cuatro and broken Spanish involved. I hit myself every time I go near a mall for not remembering that this is the time of year when the world goes money-spending mad. Call me Scrooge (or at least a hotter version) but the world has forgotten the true reason for the season. I am not a religious person myself but I am still surprised at what little reference there is to the holy aspect of Christmas.
That aside, there is still something magical about this time of year. The air is a little bit nippier and you feel just a tad bit cherrier. You can hug the boys just a bit longer and hold them slightly closer. Eating fruit cake and a pastelle for breakfast is perfectly acceptable and you actually enjoy your nagging aunty's crude jokes while you stuff your face with Mummy's chicken.
Ahh Christmas, it even makes sarcastic cynics like me seem sensitive....
Merry Christmas Everybody!!!
SmashingFoxyMinx
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
BACK IN BUSINESS
It's been a while since I've blogged, mainly because I've been suffering from a gross lack of inspiration, and partially because I have been so caught up in my world of reform, that I have not had the time to sit and ruminate over the happenings of my so-called life.
It's funny how people always have dreams, but never actually bring those dreams into any kind of fruition - or perhaps I'm just like that, and I need to stop generalizing myself as some form of self-vindication. I have wanted to be a writer for many years now. I remember the first time I discovered that I had a true passion for writing (passion, as opposed to talent, for expressing myself by the pen has always been one of my fortes since high school). I was 19 years old and I was going through an extremely confusing time. I was strangely enamoured with a guy who, at the time, embodied the essence of a true Trini man - he had the ability to make everything sound good. I won't expand on the many things he made "sound good". However, I do remember one day, out of sheer frustration, purchasing a yellow notepad from the stationery store. I went home, sat on my bed, and poured my heart out on 2 pages. I felt better after finishing, having had some sort of mini-catharsis. The real discovery, however, lied in the review. I was amazed at myself (my amazement being purely subjective and does not reflect my ability by any standard but my own) and genuinely impressed that I was able to express myself so well.
Over the last 8 years, my writing has become my refuge, my outlet and my true joy. Anyone who knows me well, knows that my dream is to be a writer and to make a living off of it. Yet, I find myself so far from my goal. I work in the corporate world for The Evil Multinational, I am yet to publish a single piece of writing, nor have I even attempted to see any project to completion (or maintain one, as is the case with this blog). In fact, months go by when I do not write at all. Or, in the alternative, months will go by when I only write about the current object of my affection (who really wants to read that?). For the past weekend, I have been receiving some signs, perhaps from up above, or from the people in my head, Im not too sure. However, the messages all seem to say the same thing - it is time.
On Saturday, I attended the first meeting for a book club that a friend of mine created. My creating friend is one of those people who never says still. She explores her interests with passion and detail, pushing the limits of her talent into the realm of practice and discipline. The book club is no exception. She managed the meeting efficiently and sorted out all the details that I personally could not find the time for (what with my oh so busy reformed woman schedule et al). The meeting was also attended by a young, female writer whose work I have admired for quite some time, although I do not necessarily agree with all of her opinions. Being a bit of a writing/book whore/groupie, I found myself slightly in awe. She had accomplished more than I had, her opinions were respected, and she had a calm eloquence with her words that I often crave. Needless to say, I found myself a bit fumbly (I know, that's not a word, but I was fumbly), especially with my words. Eventually, through my quirky attempts at dialogue, I managed to extract a priceless piece of advice from her, "you have to get into the discipline of writing." Funny, this month's edition of Oprah's magazine focuses on doing things and them well - usually with practice and you know it, DISCIPLINE.
Self-discipline is something that does not come easily in my scatter-brained life. I have a bit of an erratic approach to many things and find it very hard to stick to my projects or goals. The only things I can think of that I do consistently is brush my teeth, comb my hair and shower. Everything else happens on whim, impulse and at times, coercion. Sometimes I wonder if I am routine-averse (which would explain my aversion to marriage and pregnancy - I cant think of going nine months without some of my *ahem* carnal and bacchanalian pleasures) or whether I just need some licks and my own personal Dalai Lama to om shanti and meditate my way to a better life. Nevertheless, I have realized that I need to be more disciplined with my writing. I need to practice constantly and consistently (a great book idea would also be very helpful....is anyone aware of the perfect sacrifice to the inspiration gods?) and try my best to get my work out there (yes MMY, and stop being afraid that people are going to steal my ideas).
Three cheers for goals of self-actualization!
This reformed woman thing must be going well. Either that, or my vitamins are laced with something.
SmashingFoxyMinx....Miss Minx if you nasty
It's been a while since I've blogged, mainly because I've been suffering from a gross lack of inspiration, and partially because I have been so caught up in my world of reform, that I have not had the time to sit and ruminate over the happenings of my so-called life.
It's funny how people always have dreams, but never actually bring those dreams into any kind of fruition - or perhaps I'm just like that, and I need to stop generalizing myself as some form of self-vindication. I have wanted to be a writer for many years now. I remember the first time I discovered that I had a true passion for writing (passion, as opposed to talent, for expressing myself by the pen has always been one of my fortes since high school). I was 19 years old and I was going through an extremely confusing time. I was strangely enamoured with a guy who, at the time, embodied the essence of a true Trini man - he had the ability to make everything sound good. I won't expand on the many things he made "sound good". However, I do remember one day, out of sheer frustration, purchasing a yellow notepad from the stationery store. I went home, sat on my bed, and poured my heart out on 2 pages. I felt better after finishing, having had some sort of mini-catharsis. The real discovery, however, lied in the review. I was amazed at myself (my amazement being purely subjective and does not reflect my ability by any standard but my own) and genuinely impressed that I was able to express myself so well.
Over the last 8 years, my writing has become my refuge, my outlet and my true joy. Anyone who knows me well, knows that my dream is to be a writer and to make a living off of it. Yet, I find myself so far from my goal. I work in the corporate world for The Evil Multinational, I am yet to publish a single piece of writing, nor have I even attempted to see any project to completion (or maintain one, as is the case with this blog). In fact, months go by when I do not write at all. Or, in the alternative, months will go by when I only write about the current object of my affection (who really wants to read that?). For the past weekend, I have been receiving some signs, perhaps from up above, or from the people in my head, Im not too sure. However, the messages all seem to say the same thing - it is time.
On Saturday, I attended the first meeting for a book club that a friend of mine created. My creating friend is one of those people who never says still. She explores her interests with passion and detail, pushing the limits of her talent into the realm of practice and discipline. The book club is no exception. She managed the meeting efficiently and sorted out all the details that I personally could not find the time for (what with my oh so busy reformed woman schedule et al). The meeting was also attended by a young, female writer whose work I have admired for quite some time, although I do not necessarily agree with all of her opinions. Being a bit of a writing/book whore/groupie, I found myself slightly in awe. She had accomplished more than I had, her opinions were respected, and she had a calm eloquence with her words that I often crave. Needless to say, I found myself a bit fumbly (I know, that's not a word, but I was fumbly), especially with my words. Eventually, through my quirky attempts at dialogue, I managed to extract a priceless piece of advice from her, "you have to get into the discipline of writing." Funny, this month's edition of Oprah's magazine focuses on doing things and them well - usually with practice and you know it, DISCIPLINE.
Self-discipline is something that does not come easily in my scatter-brained life. I have a bit of an erratic approach to many things and find it very hard to stick to my projects or goals. The only things I can think of that I do consistently is brush my teeth, comb my hair and shower. Everything else happens on whim, impulse and at times, coercion. Sometimes I wonder if I am routine-averse (which would explain my aversion to marriage and pregnancy - I cant think of going nine months without some of my *ahem* carnal and bacchanalian pleasures) or whether I just need some licks and my own personal Dalai Lama to om shanti and meditate my way to a better life. Nevertheless, I have realized that I need to be more disciplined with my writing. I need to practice constantly and consistently (a great book idea would also be very helpful....is anyone aware of the perfect sacrifice to the inspiration gods?) and try my best to get my work out there (yes MMY, and stop being afraid that people are going to steal my ideas).
Three cheers for goals of self-actualization!
This reformed woman thing must be going well. Either that, or my vitamins are laced with something.
SmashingFoxyMinx....Miss Minx if you nasty
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