Writer's Block

So here's the trick with writing a blog that is personal narrative, when you are naturally pretty reserved, and raised fairly Yankee- what do you write when the voice in your head says "that makes you sound like an ass hat; who would care about the mulch in your garden; no, that will come across as self-righteous/pompous/asinine/entitled/hollow/hypocritical."  If you don't have something useful to say, don't say it.

Etc.

(Pause to contemplate what exactly the use of an ass hat would be and the design implications... I digress, and parentheses always aid and abet me- but seriously, take a moment and imagine your own ass hat design).

You are welcome for that compelling exercise in imagination.  It was your Xmas/birthday gift for the year.  I love you and it is indeed, it is the thought that counts here.

I have a lot of free time in my mind these days- specifically in my mind, not "on my hands" because my hands are busy.  These days, my hands are cramming herring into baits bags, banding lobsters, or weeding the garden.  This leaves my mind to roam, to revel, to reverie.  The upshot is that story outlining is moving ahead apace.  Characters and content for Tales from the Wilde Isle surface regularly- just this week Jonah, Jinx, and Job showed up on my doorstep, I suspect because their parents didn't want them around.  I have found the outlet for my feelings re: the bigger-and-better boat race and the habit some people may well have of hauling other people's gear to pay for said bigger/better boats, which is a retelling of "The Fisherman and the Draug"- a classic Scandinavian ghost story.

The beautiful thing about fiction is that you can get all the vengeance your little heart desires, and it is entirely legal, and presumably doesn't make your soul all Dorian Gray manky.   And the beautiful thing about manual labor is that you have your mind to yourself.

But what to write for the blog?  You see, I had set a goal for myself- to post at least every week; only by writing can you become a writer, and blogging is a business tool, and a regular writing exercise.  And a couple of weeks have flown by... and... date and time stamps, and any sort of public will keep you honest.

I have not met my goal because I've been over-editing before even sitting down to draft.   This is hilarious, given that the root of my writer's block is anxiety about the audience's reception of me and my little preoccupations.  Everyone is absurd in their passions and preoccupations- perhaps growing up (growing out?) is allowing yourself to be publicly absurd.

And let's be honest, right now that "public" is only friends and family (Hi!- seriously, happy birthday/merry Xmas!) and they are patently familiar with my particular peculiarities.

So sit down, and work through it, woman.

You're Welcome vs. No Problem

It was a couple of months ago, and I was hosting a visiting artist at the theater.  As I set up for him, he was keeping up a steady conversation with our librarian, which I could hear as I monkeyed around, refocusing lights, finalizing sound levels, etc...

"Why is it nobody says 'you're welcome' anymore?  It's always 'no problem.'"  At that point he began to range out of earshot, but I think there was something about graciousness, and the casual lack of it in younger people.

Later, when he was thanking me for all my work- despite overhearing this pet peeve piece of his worldview- out of sheer habit and muscle memory, I grinned and delivered a sunshiny

"No problem!"

Then I mentally kicked myself- but there was no taking it back.  I was one of those ungracious young people who would only do work I deemed to be "not a problem" while insinuating that the person I did the work for was a bit of a problem.  As if by denying that I had gone out of my way, I was really affirming that it was a pain in my ass.

And I heard one of the gray-faced, gray-suited members of the Committee for the Criticism of Morgan that has always resided in my head saying: "Then again, young lady, this type of 'out of your way' is in your contract...he is welcome to these services."  He was, everyone is- and to the best of my ability I always wanted people to feel comfortable, to feel welcomed, in the space.

Since then I have been chewing on this, and have been trying ever to slightly to retrain myself.

"Yooooooooou're weeeeeeeeeeelcome"

But I have become one of the breed that says "no problem."  The way Midwesterners say "you betcha," Spanish speakers say "de nada," and Aussies apparently say "no worries."  I will confess I fell into the geographically inappropriate habit of saying the latter during the spring, while I was juggling the audio versions of In a Sunburned Country and The Last Continent.  My mind is ever suggestible, and I was no match for Bill Bryson and Nigel Planer's voices in my head as I fell asleep.  Happily, once I moved on to other books, I recovered my sense of dignity before someone slapped me, or it got worse and I started sliding into a bad assumed accent.

So this response to "thank you" had been bothering me, and then a week ago, while catching a bit of Prairie Home Companion in the car, I heard Garrison Keillor go on a self-confessed elderly tear about the young people and their "no problem" problem.

What is a young(ish) person to do in the face of such generational discord?  And is it generational?  Did it start off as regional?  The passive aggressive "no problem" sounds about right for Mainers working in the service and tourist industry.  Oh the complexities of life when two two-word phrases face off!

Quit Rate

Do you ever listen to the news, and think "Hey, I am a part of that statistic!"

This was recently the case for me, as reporters and economists discussed the increase in the quit rate, and how it is an indicator that the job market is recovering.  People finally feel secure enough in their chances of finding work that they are willing to leave the jobs that do not suit them.

My seatbelt kept me from hopping up and down in my seat exclaiming "Me!!!  Me!!!  I am doing that!  It's terrifying, absolutely terrifying- and wonderful!!!"

Some of those people who have been grinding on the thought "I am mad as hell, and I am not going to take this any more" and keeping it behind their teeth, finally wrote tidy little letters, and are moving on to...

Well- I can't speak for anyone else comprising the statistic, but for me, I am moving on to fishing and writing- hopefully being able to cover expenses while focusing on a few things well enough to master them.  I loved the work I was doing- but it was about 5 jobs compressed into one, with more bosses than you could shake a stick at.  Not a recipe for longevity- the turn over rate in the position had been pretty high.

So I knew:

My candle burns at both ends;
   It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—
   It gives a lovely light!

Mine lasted three years before burning out.  Now I look forward to reconstituting my particular candle- hopefully just as lovely, but longer burning.  Maybe find a position not so vulnerable to wind from every quarter.