I'm About to Come Alive -- Train

I got asked to a party while I was on vacay in NY. It was a house-party at an artsy Williamsburg spot, with a plethora of funky artsy types -- buyers for Barneys, designers for DKNY, collectors of Calvin, actors, drummers -- the kind of people I wanna be when I grow up. Or at least, be friends with. It was the standard fare of house parties -- chips 'n' dip, 90's hip-hop, more bottles of alcohol than people and people getting verrry friendly all squiahed into a tiny NYC-sized apartment.

I bring this party up to discuss a funny thing that happened while I was there. I start talking to this one guy -- like, the one black guy there -- whose brother played ball at Hampton. He was cute, funny, a good dancer, a buyer for Calvin Klein and I was charming, flirty, and obviously a bit drunk. We danced and flirted and next thing I know, homeboy is all up on me trying to get some sugar! To his credit, he asked first if I wanted to kiss him, but even after declining his polite offer, he still swooped in for the steal. Okay so...

a) I was not THAT drunk

b) Despite my complexion, I am NOT a white girl (Sorry ladies, but this is your image. Don't like it? CHANGE IT!)

c) We're standing smack in the darkened middle of someone's living room

d) I do not know you from a patch of pee on a rug. I don't know you and I don't know what you're carrying around.

I thought all these reasons were reason enough to not exchange any manner of bodily fluid with this chap. But apparently not. When I recounted this story to a close friend of mine, I was greeted with disappointment and moreover, an admonishment that I, in fact, should have kissed him as I -- and i quote -- "do not want to risk becoming dull". Implication being, of course, that I was halfway there already.

Hmmm. So in order to avoid being considered 'dull', i need to engage in behavior that I think is stupid, irresponsible and gross. If this is the pressure I'm being put under as a fully-grown woman, I can only imagine what 16 year-olds go through. ("You haven't slept with him yet??? Ugh, you're so incredibly dull?") Moreover, I've heard how this particular friend has talked about a friend who habitually made out with random guys in clubs and it was not complimentary. MOREOVER, this person would never make out in a random club with a random guy. Why do I deserve less? I've been selective up until this point, but this doesn't make me wise, it makes me dull. I deserve to be the 25 year old, acting like a frisky high-school kid. I know this is an extremely chick thing to say, but I will anyway -- I was unbelievably hurt by it. Hurt and disappointed. Ugh -- goddamn feelings.

I'll get over it.

What I'm Listening to Now: "Down in the River" -- Allison Krauss. My favorite from the O Brother, Where Art Thou soundtrack. Beautiful harmonies on the updated Negro Spiritual. Kinda haunting but gorgeous.

Blogger's Block

So I stole this litttle piece from a blog that I read regularly because it completely explains my attitude toward blogging of late. I think I read it once a while ago, before I started this blog, and it went right over my head. They say perspective is everything.

As Anne Lamott observed, the best cure for writer's block is a shitty first draft. Convince yourself you don't have to write something good - just that you have to write something - and it becomes far easier to get words flowing.

Which makes sense in the world of novels, where authors iterate months or years between first draft and final product. But not in blogs, where the first draft usually is the final product.

That puts the pressure back on a blogger with writer's block. And as the length of time from one post to the next mounts, the pressure worsens. Drop posting frequency from near-daily to at-best-monthly (as I have of late), and each entry need be Pulitzer-worthy to justify itself.

Yet experience dictates that I blog best as habit - post regularly, day in and day out, and, intermittently, excellence emerges.

So, for the balance of this year, it's consistency over quality. In other words, I'll be doing my best to accept shitty first drafts. And I hope you will, too.