Return the favor

(That's what she...)

I've become annoyed when folks ask to read my work (namely Mexico, as many friends have been told of it), and then I send it to them, and the rest is silence.

At first, I thought this was because they read it and found it so terrible that they didn't dare mention it again. This is certainly possible. But there's another reality: people just haven't read it.

They're under no obligation to read the work, of course. Or to enjoy it upon reading. But now I will assert myself. If I send it, I will ask, "What part are you up to? What do you think so far?" The litmus test. I'm not going to wait around in silence.

But this means that I have to man up and read what's sent to me by friends. I too have been a slacker on this front. I receive attachments, and then I tend to forget about them.

So here we go. Building up the reader's karma.

...

Here's a cute chipmunk.

Nom nom nom

...

Here are less than twenty songs!

#277: Edens Edge, "Amen"
#278: David Guetta with Sia, "Titanium"
#279: Sia, "Soon We'll Be Found"

Sooner rather than later,

I'd like to try my hand at writing a love story. Of course, there will be complications and probably a lengthy courtship. But maybe there will be a better ending for this duo than some of my past pairs.

Like this happy, healthy, totally realistic couple.

...

How many consecutive days can I go without the need for a twenty-song-catch-up list?

#276: "Somebody That I Used to Know," Gotye

I know I'm a little late to the party on this,

but I'm slightly obsessed with Pam and Jim.

Judge away! I don't care!

...

Also, I'm now using Facebook's "ticker" to creep on what people are listening to on Spotify, though I don't use the service myself. Here's one:

#275: "Stay With Me, Baby," Terry Reid

Preliminary research shows that

my 2011 NaNoWriMo novel will likely take place in or around Steamboat Springs, Colorado.

As Deana would say, "So majestic."

I feel good this week. Making the time to make things happen. Running up that hill.

I'm also, finally, being proactive with the YA novel. Señor Tony did the first read-through and now the Bahlin' one has taken on the task. Though neither is the target audience, I know they'll have astute feedback.

I want to get that story out into the world.

...

And now, we dance:
#262: "Glass," Thompson Square
#263: "Getaway Car," Thompson Square
#264: "Find Out Who Your Friends Are," Tracy Lawrence
#265: "Helena Beat," Foster the People
#266: "Solar Sailer," Daft Punk
#267: "Raise Your Weapon," Deadmau5
#268: "I Might," Wilco
#269: "You and I," Wilco
#270: "Moving to Mars," Coldplay
#271: "Sing Out," The Grand Magnolias
#272: "American Dreams," Paul McDonald
#273: "Welcome to the Black Parade," My Chemical Romance
#274: "Tattoos On This Town," Jason Aldean

all work and no play makes Jack...

All of this work has helped me get a better grasp of what it is I like to do, and what it is I tolerate, and then the final category, what it is I do not want to pursue.

This comes in handy because I like to maintain the childlike sense that Well, I can do whatever I choose to do. That could be true, besides being a professional male basketball player or algo asi.

But I am honing in on the realization of which tasks I prefer over others within my fields of writing and living. That, although I succeed at them, I don't need to do the things that make me wake up in the morning and realize, Damn, I need to do that today and then Oh, God.

...

In keeping with labor, a sudden fond flash to the RA life: "managing" the "Quiet Study Lounges." The lounges were used, on average, by about two people per semester. Tough times.

buckle down

(Buckle up? I suppose that's the appropriate metaphor for an adventure.)

Sunday morning. Back to work. But the kind of work where you don't need to leave, except if you want to, and you don't need the professional pants or the heels that ache after twenty minutes. You also don't need a bag full of your life for the rest of the day at 10 am: notes for here, notes for there, textbooks and essays, water and lunch and snack and possibly dinner, a change of clothes, a laptop charger. You feel a whole lot of things, including despair and anxiety and envy, but you don't feel exhausted.

This is a start.

contact solution, 1:30 a.m.

I am confident that tonight, I am the only customer here.

The soft whine of floor cleaners. Every lantern shut above every register. Even so, these aisles are comfortable. I move from mouthwash to toothpaste and wonder what they think, the few working tonight in their green uniforms: What is this girl looking for? Then: Where is she going?

.

Afterwards I dreamt of driving down a road without dotted yellows. Reeds lined the pavement and the fog and rain made headlights useless. I kept going, hoping nobody would come from the other direction.

Then something happened. The fog cleared. The rain came down more distinctly and the wipers worked to clear it away. But I could see the road now. I could see everything.

.

Read today about Oktoberfest: "refined bitterness"

.

#261: Thompson Square, "I Got You"

The curve and the clearing

Which do I do more of: working, or driving to work? Is it cyclical or am I moving upward (or downward)?

Regardless, I chose to drive by the bay this afternoon. I would take the extra two miles and the stop lights to see the sun on that stretch of water through the trees before the curve and the clearing, and I would do it again. She is singing out of one speaker in my car and so I stay tuned in.

I have to make this day count in some small way.

...

#260: Rascal Flatts, "Easy"

midnight cowboy

I hit that numbness on the drive home. That feeling when you've worked all day here there all over and you should feel relieved, maybe even a bit accomplished, but your mind's muted. Not a twitch in the hand or a foot. Pure stone at the wheel.

From somewhere in the night, a DJ presses "play" on the next song and it fills the car.

"It's all the same, only the names will change."

Windows rolled down a crack and the passing fields smell like bagels, and I don't know how that could be, but I do know that while this song plays, I am awake.

...

#259: Matt Nathanson, "Modern Love"

sudoku exposure

It makes me wonder: What's the story we're not telling?

I have posted about the story we're meant to tell. Is that the same one that, for whatever reason, we're not writing?

A friend of mine has primarily written poetry until recently. I told her several times that she ought to write a memoir, as she has the life experiences and the voice for one. Now she is. She says the writing is difficult for her, but when read, the words fly. It is an honest story, one that makes most sense in prose.

I don't know if it's necessary to bare it all. But are we keeping what makes us innately us from the page? If so, why? And will it one day find a way through?

...

"I used to play Sudoku. But a woman I worked with played it, and I hated her. So I stopped playing because I didn't want to have anything in common with her." - the D.Q.

...

#254: VNV Nation, "Genesis"
#255: Eric Church, "Homeboy"
#256: Eric Church, "Love Your Love the Most"
#257: Jason Aldean, "Big Green Tractor"
#258: Chris Brown and Justin Bieber, "Next 2 You." Yes, this just happened.

a day at the fair

The things we do for free T-shirts.

Soldier: "Are you interested in joining the Army?"
Me: "I'd like the exercise. I'm not really good with confrontation."

But I am good with size XL T-shirts.



///

#243: Journey, "Feeling That Way"
#244: Journey, "Anytime"
#245: Journey, "Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin'"
#246: Sparks, "This Town Ain't Big Enough For Both Of Us"
#247: Sparks, "When I'm With You"
#248: Bjork, "All Is Full of Love"
#249: Bjork, "Army of Me"
#250: Sonic Youth, "Superstar"
#251: Sonic Youth, "Do You Believe In Rapture?"
#252: Beck, "Where It's At"
#253: Whitesnake, "Love Will Set You Free"

board up my windows, prepare for hurricane

This morning, the air was thick. It rained earlier as we sat in the car, watching the waves that were too small for anyone else to stay longer than a moment.

Flood Watch in effect from...

Flood Advisory in effect until...

Now the usual chirping in the trees. Breezeless.

But they keep multiplying:

Tornado Watch in effect until...

Hurricane Warning in effect.

When I was younger, I thought the meanings of "storm watch" versus "storm warning" ought to be reversed. In my opinion, "warning" meant it was a possibility, a heads-up. "Watch" meant: "Look out your window -- it's coming."

I charge everything and use the Internet while I can, reading updates and chatting with friends, and also being productive in my writing life. I type louder than the fear, but I still stop and listen as a soft breeze begins.

Tonight, I will watch.

...

And listen to these:

#224: A Fine Frenzy, "You Picked Me"
#225: Lady Gaga, "You and I"
#226: M83, "We Own the Sky"
#227: Don Omar, "Danza Kuduro"
#228: Barbra Streisand, "The Way We Were"
#229: Sick Puppies, "Riptide"
#230: Hoodie Allen, "The Chase Is On"
#231: Hoodie Allen, "#WhiteGirlProblems"
#232: Neko Case, "Never Turn Your Back On Mother Earth"
#233: Priscilla Ahn, "City Lights (Pretty Lights)"
#234: The Runaways, "Cherry Bomb"
#235: Courtney Love, "Almost Golden"
#236: Courtney Love, "Hello"
#237: The New Cities, "Heatwave"
#238: Gladys Knight and the Pips, "Neither One of Us"
#239: Peter, Paul, and Mary, "Leaving On A Jet Plane"
#240: Peter, Paul, and Mary, "Blowin' In the Wind"
#241: Peter, Bjorn & John, "Young Folks" (Just realized that I know this song. Whoaz!)
#242: Live, "She." Not a new song. But it took about ten minutes to find on YouTube earlier today. Also, it's lovely and uplifting. So here it is.

earthquake commentary

Gymnast 1: "My mom was excavated from her job." ::starts laughing as she realizes her error::
Gymnast 2: "Your mom was executed at work?!"

How to Run Your 10K With New Shoes, Little Sleep, and Less Training

This is what happens: you return from the Warrior Dash with no sneakers. You didn't lose them in the mud pit, but instead donated them afterwards. You've had them for years. It was time.

You intend to buy new sneakers early in the week to run this weekend's 10K. The draw of this race is that it's a trail run, just the way you like it. Dirt and roots and rocks. That's about right.

But for various reasons, you don't get to the store until Friday. Which means that your exercise this week has been limited to treading water and spotting back tucks. Not ideal, but no big deal.

Fueled by increasing crankiness, you reject the Nike and Reebok pairs and reluctantly head into the last store. There you find a beautiful pair of white-purple-green Asics with built-in gel pads. They fit. They are deliciously squishy. This is perfect. Mexican food is the only way to celebrate this achievement.

Until the next day, when you take the prettiest sneakers you've ever owned (with the exception of the Little Mermaid kicks in kindergarten) for the maiden voyage, and a couple of miles in, they pinch your inner arches so irritatingly that you stop.

Egads.

You dust them off and return them to the store. Then you hustle out to another store in the opposite direction, the last stop for the evening. If nothing fits here, no race manana.

Oh, but you'll make it happen.

Play Cinderella. Try on every sneaker that comes in your size, especially if it's on sale. This is not a night of fiscal risks. You pluck out a box of sneakers that has no mate on the top shelf. They are black and electric blue, like skater shoes, and instantly you judge. They can't be real sneakers. They're faux-sneaks that girls wear to look athletic and occasionally ride the elliptical.

Forty-five minutes later, you leave with the faux-sneaks that actually seem to be real sneaks hiding under ridiculous colors. Your father will probably judge you. You're ready for it.

You try to fall asleep at midnight in your friend's guestroom. Midnight turns to one a.m. turns to thrashing about half-awake until the alarm goes off at six.

This will not be pretty.

But you have said you will do this, and so you will. Even though you have to make sharp and wide turns to help your friend Jess find a functioning ATM so she can pay the entry fee. Even though your body is still dreaming and you're already sweating from the humidity as you walk to the registration table.

You put Vaseline on the sore spots. A woman ahead of you on the Port-A-Potty line donates two band-aids. You are as ready as you can be.

How do you run the race? You don't stop running.

You give up despairing over your split times, knowing they're much slower than they could be. After all, there are choices: Run hard now and be ill later, or take it easy and finish without throwing up. You don't move quickly, but you don't stop moving. Over the small bridges and under the tunnels and around the lake.

When your stomach starts to hurt and your feet feel that these shoes are stiff with not being broken in, Jess says, "We're almost there. It's almost over." You keep telling yourself that, too. You hold the pace until the finish line appears a few short meters ahead and then you sprint with Jess calling behind you, "Where are you going?" the way she would chastise a child. You know you deserve it. But that's okay.

The entire race, you think about how awful this all is. Painful and slow and sticky. How do people run double, quadruple this? How do their bodies handle it? Not you, no way. No more races.

Soon after the finish, you take a flyer from a stranger and say, "Hey, Jess, here's a race with costumes."

You keep going.

spotted ponies

It looks like previous plans will overlap with Day 2 of gymnastics nationals, so if you had looked forward to a sequel to Day 1 (Flo Davies, I'm looking at you), it may be delayed. But that's cool with me.

I'm here tonight to say that I'm back. Back to the YA nov, which I left shivering because I started to worry that maybe it was not the novel I thought it was (that is to say, good). But thanks to several days of avoidance and thought and simply letting outside forces shape what they will in their way, I think I have new paths that can be tunneled.

But there's one thing that keeps the headlights glowing: I know how it all ends.

Day 1 of the VISA Championships - Live Bloggin'!

Rice, gymnastics, and blogs -- what more do you need tonight?

Interesting leotards already. I'm kinda digging Shawn Johnson's black and blue number, though the see-through mesh on the back is a bit disconcerting. I feel similarly about the gray-and-pink number donned by WOGA. It's weird. But not in a bad way.

Who's the dude who's commentating with Tim and Elfi? He sounds uncomfortable.

Chellsie Memmel, bars: BIG Tkatchev. Nice, clean routine. Good extension throughout.

Shawn Johnson, floor: JK.

Gabby Douglas, floor: So cute! Such a baby. Liang Chow is always smiling. Clean triple twist. Interesting use of vocals in the background -- very NCAA. Flying out of bounds on double Arabian. I feel like Marta is not amused by "Me No Speak Americano" music. I feel like this girl will only get better with age.

As per Wikipedia, that song is actually produced by an Australian duo.

Break!
...

Alicia Sacramone, floor: Dislike the weird X on her leotard. Nice triple full. Tremendously high double Arabian. Really enjoy this music, though the choreography isn't really a revelation. So it goes. Aaaaand falls to her back.

Jordyn Wieber, beam: Freaked out by the yellow/gold leotard. I was never really a fan of yellow. Wobbly wobble out of the layout. Can't imagine too many "laymen" are watching Universal Sports right now. Nice switch-side-half. Seems to be becoming popular lately. Shakes all around. Nice 2.5 dismount.

McKayla Maroney, floor: Really casual 3.5 twist. This music must be so irritating to practice to day in and day out. Very clean. Looks like she could break in half, but she's a beast. The requisite (thus far) out of bounds. Will she make the double Arabian??? Nope. End scene.

Rebecca Bross, bars: Looks like she's about to fall asleep. Nice Khorkina to high bar. Off on the Tkatchev. Tim is shocked. Then again, Bross has a history of being a hot mess in major competitions on at least one event. I am not shocked. Big Pak salto. She has nice amplitude on her releases -- I have never truly appreciated it before.

Aly Raisman, floor: I bet Aly is a lovely person, but I fear she will win tonight. Egads. Man, though, she is an insane tumbler. Two Arabian passes. Random vocals in the background. Semi-sexy moves on the floor. Triple full. Must also be annoying music to hear day in and day out. But she stayed in bounds, so good for her.

Break!

...

Just realized that they're not telling us any scores. Ah, well.

Super neon green for Legacy Elite. Meh.

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Neon Leotards for the Caquatto sisters? Maybe.

Lol, uh, commercial break again?

...

Bridgette Caquatto, bars: feet crossing on some handstands. Extra swing. Piked down double layout dismount.

Did unknown male commentator just say, "The sweat is dripping down her bra"???

Alicia Sacramone, vault: Leotard by Under Armour? Will check out that logo again. Wow, that first vault looked higher than ever. And that's def Under Armour. Really nice execution in the slow-mo replay. Pretty solid DTY.

Anna Li, bars: The much-hyped routine is happening. Some form issues and close to the bars on releases, but she's making it happen. Cool!

Jordyn Wieber, floor: Right now I'm guessing Aly 1, Jordyn 2, Rebecca 3 for the all-around finale. Just a hunch. Double-double to start. Crisp dance. I appreciate that her moves actually go with the music. Very clean twister. I feel like she has new routines at every meet. Or maybe that's just because she's always injured and does like 1 major meet per season. Nice routine! I liked it.


TOO MUCH YELLOW.

Mackenzie Caquatto, bars: Looks worried. BIG Church. And big Pak. (That's what she...). Very aggressive routine.

Rebecca Bross, beam: Stuck Arabian. She's going all the way here -- no hesitations. Yikes! Foot slips on the back tuck. Tim is shocked again. Valeri will not be pleased. And down on the dismount.

Aly Raisman, vault: I fear this Amanar. JK, she does a DTY instead. I feel better now. On the plus side, she looks nice in pink.

Sabrina Vega, bars: Break on the handstand and kicks low bar. Aw. And off on the Church.

So many falls!

Nastia is helping to make the selection for the World team? For why?

Do we really need to keep the camera on Sabrina Vega's face as she cries? Really?

And Steve Rybacki also chooses the World team?

So many questions, rhetorical and not?

Chellsie Memmel, beam: barani connected to back handspring. Not beautiful, but definitely admirable. Long pause pre-Arabian. Too many looooong pauses throughout this routine. Successfully 2 for 2 in not splatting.

Shawn Johnson, finally! vault: A serviceable DTY. Not going to change the world, but not embarrassing. She sprints awaaaaay. In the slow-mo replay, crooked but not terrible form.

Casey Jo Magee, standing: Her hair is cute. Also, a nice leotard.

Jordyn Wieber, vault: Wow, really nice Amanar. High, clean, and not scary. Win!

Anna Li, beam: Business-like switch-ring. Seems confident. I type this just as she wobbles majorly. Oops. A decent routine.

McKayla Maroney, bars: Extra swiiiings. Seems to be required along with the OOB on floor. This probably WILL spur on Nastia's comeback.

Mackenzie Caquatto, beam: Save on the side somi. Off on the layout. Hot dang, sons, I miss the days when you'd see very, very few falls at a big competition. I sound like I'm ninety.

Rebecca Bross, floor: I feel bad for her. She must hate life. Watched this routine in the training videos and found it to be a major step up from her previous routine. HUGE first pass. I really like this music. WOGA sure loves those violins in their floor music. Slow movements in contrats to high energy music. Lots of posing and standing. Haha, I like the landing of the last pass to the music -- very MIOBI in its conclusion. No disasters for her in that routine.

Aly Raisman, bars: Leg separations. Flexed toes. You know the rendez-vous.

Casey Magee, beam!: Broken connection in the double to single turn. She looks taller than the rest of the pack. I sense that Tim is rooting for her. I am, too. Yikes, didn't really complete that round-off pre-layout. Off she goes. Triple turn, saved. The crowd appreciates it. Love that handspring down to the knee.

Where did Gabby Douglas go?

Breeeaaaak.

...

Shawn Johnson, bars: Nice Geinger - big! Resists the extra swing. Nice dismount! Redemption from the CoverGirl Splatfest.

Chellsie Memmel, floor: Runs out of bounds, OF COURSE. High tumbling. reminds me of Kristen Maloney with better form. This routine is dragging. A fierce finish.

Gabby Douglas, bars: They found her! Holy Tkatchev. Wowzas. Nice extension. Wild dismount almost to her hands.

Bridgette Caquatto, beam: This group is still on beam? Man. Gets a lot of height in the aerial skills. And she's off. Tim calls these falls "infectious." The zombie viral apocalypse? The heralding of 2012? I digress.

That judge hit the bell with true relish. She too is tired of the nonsense.

Is it wrong that I'm looking forward for this comp to be over, but yet I can't look away?

...

I feel like there's no urgency to this competition. Everyone (for the most part) looks like a mess. Whoever survives will win. Kudos to Wieber, however, who has performed like a real champ.

Quite simply, it's boring.

But we'll see what the final rotation brings.

As Andrea Joyce talks about Gabby Douglas's family, does anyone else miss the days of fluffy montages and interviews? I lived for those. Again, I'm ninety.

Rebecca Bross, vault: High vault, scary low landing - bent knees in the air and chest down. Aw. She needs a long rest, and maybe something sugary.

McKayla Maroney, beam: I'd like to see her have a nice routine. Will she? Ah, yes, a fall on the layout. But of course.

Mackenzie Caquatto, floor: Will we see a techno FSU floor routine? Looks like it. Kind of a yawn.

Aly Raisman, beam: Aly looks slightly like a young Emeline, which is a supreme accomplishment. Stays on the layout. Hence why she will win (or place top three). An improved leap. Bent knees on the front pike. She's a tough customer. Whoa, a legit dismount/landing.

Chellsie Memmel, however, is not impressed.

She vaults: FTY. It's fine.

Sabrina Vega returns after the break. Floor: Out of bounds. Spicy music. Lots of energy and sweet ending pose.

J-Wiebs, bars: I suddenly fear a meltdown a la Vanessa Atler in '97 on bars. Legs apart. Seems to be muscling through. Low Tkatchev. That routine seemed really short. No meltdowns, however.

Shawn Johnson, beam: I'm excited. Stays on for the layout. She's very aggressive today. Big save on the aerial. The haters will love the low back leg on her switch leap. Honestly, this is one of the best beam routines at this meet. Over time. She and Raisman desire to be co-champs on beam at this rate, based on this telecast (maybe second to Wieber).

I'd like to ask SJ about her knee surgery. Which graft did she choose: patellar tendon, hamstring, or cadaver? The grand questions.

Gabby Douglas, beam: My goodness, she is tiny. Those damn layouts, man. Off she goes. And off on the back full.

Tim: "This is, quite honestly, one of those meets that's hard to recover from."
Dad: "And hard to watch."

Yikes. Off on the switch ring. One of those times where you wish you could get off mid-routine and hide.

Her coach, however, smiles anyway. I'd like to see what he's like in the gym.

Seriously, who doesn't hate her life tonight? Raisman, Memmel, Wieber, ShawnJohn? That's it.

Alicia Sacramone, beam: Goin' big. No wobbles. Huge switch-side. She may need to be the national beam champ. Really good routine. The execution score should be high.

...

Parting Shots

Much like the CoverGirl Classic, that was one heck of a brutal meet to watch.

Is it really the open-ended scoring that encourages so much difficulty that the girls are a mess? If that's so, then, why did nearly all of the falls on TV come from layouts, a skill that Level 10's perform comfortably? Nerves about the rest of the routine? Nerves about Marta? Nerves about something else? Would we see these sort of routines at Russian or Chinese nationals? What happened to that supreme confidence of a Miller or a Zmeskal, or even Patterson? Is it the Code that makes the confidence impossible? Or is it the undercurrent of something else?

The standings thus far:

1. Jordyn
2. Aly
3. Chellsie
4. Bross

To conclude for the night, here's a beam routine to make you feel better about life:

Don Joy, mud pits, and retail soundtracks

The best part of a custom-made knee brace: the complimentary bag.

Bing Images doesn't have any photos of the duffel bag, which is a real travesty. I've made it to Europe and back by rolling up my clothes and fitting my life into that bag.

This weekend was no different.

Our journey began on Friday evening, when we drove to the town of Coxsackie (which has a body of water called "Climax Brook"). The requisite sing-along took place. But this was not a mere anthematic, "Don't Stop Believing" sing-along. This was an ode to the songs that played again and again and again as we each worked jobs in retail (Banana Republic, Journeys, and the Baby Gap, respectively). Songs that may have been decent but were ruined by memories of standing for hours and pretending to fold baby clothes (me). Or songs that we never knew the chorus to, such as this one.

After getting lost in our quest for a hotel that didn't exist, we found our correct habitation for the night. We went right to sleep, minus the fact that the room was 978786 degrees and very silent. You lie there wondering: Who else is awake? Does their breathing mean they're sleeping?

At 7:45 the next morning, Lauren and I waited amongst folks in Viking costumes and fairy skirts. We were dressed simply in blue T-shirts and black shorts. As music played down below, we worried about the big issues in life: Would we die? Would we have to pee while on the course?

Fire spewed from torches. We were off.

The first mile or so ran strictly uphill. That doesn't sound like a big deal, except for when you're running up a ski mountain. It kept going up, and up, and up...

After I saw jacked-looking men walking, I decided it was okay to join.

The first obstacles we encountered were nothing to write home about. Crawled under some wood and made our way through the junkyard of old cars and tires. However, we soon heard screaming in the woods. That's when we knew we were in for the good stuff: jumping into the water to climb over logs.

The logs spun toward us as we tried to climb over them. The water came up to my shoulders and my super-saturated sneakers kicked for the bottom. Some chivalrous boyfriends held the logs down for their girlfriends, so we tried to capitalize on that. Then they'd release just in time for us to fall back. I tossed one leg up and over and propelled myself to the other side. True gymnast form.

We exited that obstacle thoroughly muddy.

The other obstacles up on the mountain weren't too tough. There were ropes to climb and wooden A-frames to slide down. Lauren and I had some romantic Titantic-like moments where she waited to catch me, should I have needed catching.

The actual running course, however, was another story. After going uphill for that first mile, the two miles down were just as steep; it felt like you could easily fall over yourself and roll down the mountain. There were divots in the long grass and you had to watch your step. Parts of the trail wove through the woods, bringing back the cross-country days.

Down below, we could see the smoke and the parking lot. "I smell food," Lauren said, and thus we were motivated to run forth.

Three obstacles presented themselves at the very end of the race, as the spectators cheered and took photos: a slip and slide, fire to jump over, and a mud pit with barbed wire.

Now, there's actual video footage of me at age three refusing to go down the slip and slide in our front yard, because I was too scared of wet tarp, apparently. On this day, Lauren ran all gungho and leapt belly-first onto the slip and slide. I was more conservative, but still cruised down the tarp on my stomach.

We made it over the fire, and for the finale, crawled in the mud under barbed wire. The wire wasn't all that low, so I didn't live in fear of getting stuck. However, one had no choice but to go on one's hands and knees as the photographer snapped away.

Finally, Lauren and I ran through the finish line together. I threw up a fist in the air, but did not throw up. Which is an achievement.

Sure, the Warrior Dash was a silly time. But it brought back something I'd forgotten: the desire to work through unusual physical challenges and find that I am capable of accomplishing them. Like the Project Adventure courses in high school and trapezing last summer. Contorting not only my body, but my mind, in unexpected ways.

shorty shorts

I just wrote what may be the world's shortest screenplay. That's hyperbole, certainly, but it's quite brief. 358 words and just onto the second page.

Often I have glimpses of scenes. Usually they're comic sketches, over in a moment. The sort of thing that would probably lose its humor if extended beyond a few minutes.

This piece, I think, could stand to go a little longer. Maybe five pages, max. ::does a quick re-scan:: Maybe three. Or a full two.

There's nothing wrong with scenes, I believe, especially since so much thought lately goes to lengthy works. Scenes are the heartbeat. A quick inhalation of air, the hand on the doorknob, the voice that asks, "Who's there?"

Happy Family Friday

I touched upon writing preoccupations back in May - what is the story we were meant to write?

As someone who enjoys writing about the inversion and struggle in relationships, I appreciated this quote from writer Kevin Wilson:

"I'm most interested in the way that people are put together and told that they're connected and how they make peace with that and make a life together. I think I'll write about family forever."

I wanna hold your hand

As I write, I hear the words of the workshop: Why is she saying this? I want to know more about this character. What is their relationship? Why is she acting this way? Tell us more.

Many times those questions have been helpful. I probe into areas that I wouldn't have gone into otherwise. I think through all the why's and why not's.

My brother's advice for writing a cover letter is to make things as obvious as possible for the prospective employer. "You need to add a little more here about how your experience relates to the position," he says on the phone.

"Yeah, but isn't that clear already?"

"Yes, but sometimes you have to hold their hand a little."

However, I hear those same workshop voices when I read a novel and see a slip of a character that I know, I know, somebody in the group would jump on and say, "I'd like to see you develop this more."

But maybe that person just doesn't matter much beyond their one appearance. Maybe we don't need to know everything about his background and her interior monologue and what they wore when they sat down to breakfast.

Maybe a little mystery's good for you, and if you want that relationship developed further, well, keep on wishin'.

///

#220: Keith Urban, "Long Hot Summer"
#221: Pitbull & Marc Anthony, "Rain Over Me" (beyond ridiculous...to the point where I kinda love it)
#222: Enrique Iglesias, "Ayer"
#223: Lykke Li, "I Follow Rivers"