I’ve been listening to some wonderful music by Jo Blankenburg, who has become one of my favorites. I have about 45 days worth of this kind of music stored on my computer, and yes, I know that’s not wise. But I hear something I love, and then I get into a writing groove (I’ll tell you some days it’s way better than sex and trust me, I like that a lot too) and play the darned thing over and over again. Why? Because I love to be inspired. I think that’s why I love to write.
I probably cruised through my early married life with rose colored glasses and missed so much along the way, but I’m defending my imagination and all the worlds I lived in while I was spending the 2 1/2 hours every day in my white Suburban, shuttling the kids from karate, to swimming lessons, acting classes, gymnastics, volleyball and soccer practice, listening to the music that would make my kids groan. Yes I’ve been an overbearing mother and they did it my way. Of course, now that they are older, I get some grief about it. None of them can listen to New Age music without losing their dinner.
Where did I go when I was doing that? I went to other worlds. Fell in love with beautiful men and handsome warriors. I became the faery princess and the Queen of everything. I lived in worlds where love was supreme and feeling great about being alive was all that was necessary. That’s where I was. For years I was there.
My kids? They were in the back of the Suburban. Okay, so I ruined it for them. My license plate was SNOWEYT, because I usually packed around seven or more dwarfs everywhere I went. I even took all four kids to listing appointments, lined them up on the couch and told them to behave while I told the sellers I had about 30 minutes before the wheels came off my little family and boy did we get down to business fast. I became the number one Realtor in my office, then my company, then the whole county while I was traveling to those distant lands and meeting those strange beautiful beings.
I guess you would categorize me as an adrenalin junkie. I want the best part of life. I like the chocolate centers of the chocolate candies at Sees, the soft part in the middle of a cinnamon roll, the “point” of the slice of pizza, the first sip of a cold beer, the part of a song that is so incredibly sweet you will put up with the whole rest of it just to hear those two stanzas again. I used to read to the sexy parts in books, and then read them again with heightened anticipation because I knew they were coming. When I’m writing I write until I get tired, go back to bed and wake up 2 hours later and get like three or four new mornings out of one day. When I listen to educational tapes I play them on triple speed so you can do 45 hours of continuing education in less than 5 hours (btw it only takes about 5 minutes to get used to Mickey Mouse speaking to you). I hate reading manuals and love having someone tell me a really good story. I believe in people and I never give up. I get discouraged, but I never give up.
I once heard a motivational speech by a lady who put it well. She said she wanted the “juice of life”, that sweet part of the orange that is so rare. And to get it, you have to squeeze it. You have to grab it.