Sunday, March 6, 2016


  I'm horrible at accepting compliments, but I love the shit out of them. My self-esteem is usually at the bottom of the river beside some mafia hits wearing cement shoes. Last night, I had a former co-worker ask if I was still blogging and then she said I was a good writer. My heart swelled. Of course, I doubt my writing and intelligence. I went on a strange day drinking date earlier in the week. My date told me I was adorable and intelligent. What??!!!! On a consistent basis, I feel like a dope. This may be why I seem to date men of higher than above average intelligence. My husband was top of the list with a Mensa-like IQ of over 140. Pretty much every guy since him has been on the higher spectrum of the intelligence level ( maybe even one or two fall into the "spectrum" category.) I've never felt on their level. This is a girl with average intelligence. Luckily, I have common sense, which is a damn, fine thing to have. But, I'm horrible at geography, math, and many other subjects. I can name actors and authors with astonishing clarity, however. Abilities that get you nowhere in life. I can answer Final Jeopardy questions correctly 90% of the time. And, I swept the shit out of the Russian history and Scarlet Johansen categories. 
  My drunken date said I was more well read than he was. This guy was very well read. A total turn on. Reading is my jam. I have a lot of friends who read more, so this surprised me. I feel like I don't read enough. 
  As far as writing, I'd love to do more. I'm lackadaisical and doubt my abilities. I have half of a screenplay finished, I rarely blog and this blank journal that's supposed to become a novel is empty. It's not that I don't have ambition. The doubts just plague me. I remember when I was in third grade, wanting to write a sequel to Charlotte's Web. My mom, who was oddly supportive of creative ventures and nothing else in my life, bought me a blank journal in which to write it. All was well with my first draft until kids at school rudely told me I couldn't write the sequel. Way to dash dreams, dudes. I finished one screenplay that I entered into Project Greenlight. I think only Bob read it. The contestants who were supposed to obviously didn't. You were to answer a questionnaire to ensure you did. They said I didn't have any female characters. There were actually two. Regardless, it was crap and it doesn't matter that I didn't progress to the next level. My current one isn't bad, by my standards. The question is- will I EVER finish it? 
  I would love to write a novel, but I'm terrified. I wish I could just grow a set and do it. 
  Thank you anyone who has ever read this blog and encouraged me. It means a lot. The feedback seems genuine and I appreciate it. Even if it's the only thing I write, it feeds my soul.