this IS your beautiful world

"Why do you even read that guy?"

That's Joe in response to another one of my what-Jeff-wrote moments, when I'm telling Joe about something Jeff Goins said that I couldn't disagree with more.  It's not even disagreement, actually, since that seems so mental.  My reaction is visceral -- an instantaneous shaking-of-the-head Oh No, you poor thing, how sad for you.  

Here's why I read that guy.  He's got tons of great information about blogging, tons, that he gives away for free.  As I've written before, I am learning so much from him.  Really, on blogging, he's great.  AND there there are all the other stuff I get from reading him.  There's more.

I think it's so good for me to be in contact with people I don't agree with, people whose opinions give me that visceral Oh No, Pobrecito/a, that's so sad.  I have this reaction a lot, reading other people's blogs, blogs by the other members of From Left to Write, the bookclub I'm in, for example, a lot of them mothers of young children, a lot of them very Christian faith-y. I'm not part of the Mommy Blogger demographic at all, but somehow I learn a lot from them. And that's the point.

Difference is so helpful.  Use it.

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Farting on the surface of the moon

For weeks now, literally, I've been puzzling over the exercise of a 40-word description of what this blog is about.  That exercise is specifically for the purpose of joining a major massive network of women-bloggers, one with the potential to bring me advertisers, possibly some income, from this daily practice of writing down what I think about whatever.

In the beginning I thought coming up with those 40 words would be pretty easy.  I did one version, then another, then a third that I thought was better and still left me with 12 words more, 12 extra opportunities to describe.

But none of it felt right.

I set myself a deadline -- I said I'd have my cocktail-napkin elevator pitch complete by the night we were going to the midnight super-special screening of The Hunger Games to which we had the good fortune to be invited -- but even with a publicly-stated drop-dead, I still didn't have it.

And now two weeks after Hunger Games, still here in the middle, still considering.

Taking more time with it, actually, has been the best possible outcome for me.  In fact, something occurred to me yesterday while hiking through the woods for the first time since my second epidural for the herniated disc in my spine.  Something good, I think, which is that

The Force Expansive is what life's about.

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bring a coach into your life, for FREE

Checking my email this morning, I realize that I've surrounded myself with coaches of one kind of another this year.  I'm receiving a lot of blogs in my in-box, reads that support my desire to keep my focus on the big purpose for 2012 -- my emancipation as a writer.  This is the whole reason I've begun this practice of waking at 4:30 am on the weekdays.

Not to mention all that email means I need more time to read and think.

So, like I said, I'm reading a lot of coaches.  And oh, coincidentally, the person I declined to carpool with to death camp a few weeks ago is also a coach.  Imagine how excited I would have been when that little factoid was unwrapped in the car as we shared the ride to and from Sebastopol.  And she seems totally awesome.  We're having coffee this coming Friday, so yay!

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the weekend = filling my car

Sometimes, seriously, it feels like the weekend is about driving around and filling the back of my car.  

If the weekdays are about making money, then the brief weekend time is about trading that money for stuff that fills the back of the Prius, requiring multiple trips to get it all in the house.

I’m not complaining, just remarking that sometimes it feels a little funny to get home after a couple of hours, after breakfast with The Kids and errands and shopping and have to unload so much stuff, so very many canvas bags from the back of the car.  It's true that I’ve been on a serious nest-feathering kick and also that it’s spring, which contributes the burning desire to go the nursery, but even so: just keeping the pantry full and the bathrooms stocked with toilet paper takes a lot of time and attention.

Having a life -- especially a beautiful life -- is work.  The very best kind of work, work I love for sure, but still it takes constant effort.

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