Tuesday, July 23, 2013

You Broke Me A Little Bit

We repeat patterns. We get those old neural pathways ingrained in our grey matter and the synapses just keep firing over and over again, sending us down the same roads, inflicting us with the same feelings and habits until they're all we know.

That's why change frightens us. It resets those neural pathways, creates more of them, restructures how we think and feel. Change can often be a good thing, but Fear that change won't be good, well, that's why we hold on to the bad things, repeat bad habits. Plus treading those old neural pathways feels good, is pleasurable, even. The familiar just feels 'right'.

Even when it's not.

Sometimes we're no different from those poor carriage horses who have blinders on––they just move forward without thought or context, someone/something else guiding their path. That's what happens to us when we get set in our ways and take the easy road that feels familiar––when we should take the hard road, the one that will make us grow.

Robert Frost had it right in The Road Not Taken.

Today I had one of those neural pathway moments. It was not good. My expectations were such that I went right to that bad place in my mind––a place created by years of one, particular kind of experience. When I realized where I had gone, and how my brain had craved the bad, suspicious feelings...it made me cry.

I don't want to be the person who has those thoughts anymore––and besides, no one deserves to wear a yoke placed in your hands by the actions of someone else.

Wednesday, April 3, 2013


Yesterday was a bleh day. Sometimes you just have days like that. I did some work - hated everything I did and have already started re-writing it - and tried to spend some time with my lady friends I'm producing this short film, Uggs For Gaza, with, but I wasn't great company.  I blame my horoscope entirely. It predicted I would be impotent and unable to express myself.

I don't like being impotent.  Yesterday I needed Viagra for the soul.

Do they make that? And if they do, does it cause heart palpitations and cardiac arrest in exchange for a soul boner?

Because maybe I don't want a soul boner that badly.

Soul boners aside (or astride), today was better. I got more work done and I had a real laughing jag over my coining of the term 'soul boner' - although I'm sure someone else has already coined it and I'm just riding coattails. 

Still, today is a minor bleh day, as well. Not that I blame my horoscope. Today it said I would have peace of mind. So, there's that, at least.


Tuesday, April 2, 2013

I Am Working

I didn't stay in bed all day like I planned. I got up, took a shower, brushed my teeth...well, you get the picture. Now I'm sitting here writing. I'm supposed to be writing book stuff, but instead I am writing this blog while I listen to Billy Bragg and Wilco doing 'California Stars'.

Being creative for a living is a blessing, but sometimes - like today - I look at the guy sitting next to me and wish I was the one holding a little box of tools, that I went from job to job, fixing things, having a finite time to my work, so that when I was done for the day, I was done.

I am never done. I am always at work.

I used to feel terribly guilty whenever I goofed off - I SHOULD BE WORKING! - but this has subsided some as I've gotten older and realized that work is not everything. Work does not define me (yes, it does) and it's okay to have a life (no, it's not).

You can't write things, act things, make things...if all you do is work. You have to experience life. You have to laugh like an idiot, you have to sob like your soul is pouring out your eyes, you have to listen to the silence and revel in the noise...all of this is integral to creating.

I forget this sometimes. I get caught up in the work.

Alcohol (in moderation), good friends, food, music, movies, books...these are the things that remind me work is not everything. Life is fleeting. It is here and then gone so quickly we are idiots if we don't enjoy at least a little bit of it.

Tomorrow I will think about staying in bed all day. I will maybe luxuriate in being under my brown comforter that leaks feathers. I will maybe stay in my PJ's until it gets dark outside.

Today I am working. I swear it.

I am working.

It's A Small World After All, Fish Face

So...I totally got called out for my blog post (Game Playing, Yo!) yesterday. And it's my own fault because I should know way better than this. When you post something on a public blog, one that anyone or anything in the universe can read, well, be prepared to answer for your words.

Which is exactly what happened yesterday when the texting dude in question called me up to tell me someone he knew had forwarded him my post - EEEEK!  (Yes, I now have to admit the post was written because of one experience,
in particular, BUT I want to qualify this by saying that, though I may
have been too harsh a judge in this instance, I still one hundred
percent stand behind what I wrote. I have experienced the 'texting disinterest" game before and have actually talked to a few dudes about it, confirming that once the hunt was over for them, they weren't interested anymore.)

Moderately Confused Fish-Face Amber


I am an extremely verbal person. One who is very, very very rarely rendered speechless. This was one of those rare moments. I think I might've said 'uhm' really fast like ten times in a row then I might've also opened and closed my mouth like a silent codfish for a few minutes - which, thankfully, the guy in question could not see because we were on the phone. (Believe me when I say that confused fish face Amber is an unsettling sight to behold.)

The guy in question could very easily have silently stewed over what I wrote. He could've written me a nasty text or called to yell at me. He could've even completely ignored me like forever and ever and ever and ever.

INSTEAD he was kind and gracious. He said he was glad I'd written the post so that he had some insight into what I was thinking. I won't go into detail, but, basically, we worked out the kinks and I think we will continue to be text buddies for a long time to come. Mostly because he chose to be open-minded and to communicate with me...and to give me the benefit of the doubt when I hadn't done the same for him.

In this case, I was wrong. I jumped to conclusions.

The lesson learned is to take each experience I have, individually, not expecting any of them to be a repeat of the last.

Seems pretty basic, right? Wrong.

Oh, and I might still need to go to that nunnery, take a vow of silence, learn that sometimes silence can be golden.

By the way, can you still text when you take a vow of silence?

Sunday, March 31, 2013

Synchronicity or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bomb

I believe in it. Or maybe I should say that I am open to it.

I know that when I start thinking about somebody, I am either going to run into them or get a phone call from them. It's been like that my whole life. I've tried to manifest this experience, but forcing it never works. It happens when it happens, totally autonomously from what I want.

I'm in the process of writing a new series of books - witches are the theme - and the more stuff I read as I research the topic, the more interested I become in the idea that magic or miraculous happenings are somehow tied into the concept of Synchronicity. When something magical/miraculous happens, it's easy to be in awe of it, to credit some supernatural force to its occurrence - which may well be the case, I can't discount it - but maybe another way of looking at it is that it's just a synchronous event. Maybe it's only a confluence of cause and effect from a thousand different smaller moments, leading up to this one larger miraculous/magical experience. All of this happens behind the scenes, out of our direct line of view, so that the event appears magical/miraculous.

I don't know. I like the idea of living in a world where magic exists...but I've never really been privy to it. So in these new books I wanted to create a world where magic is like quantum physics: A whole bunch of molecular events happening on a subatomic level so they can't be witnessed by the naked eye. It's still magic, but it's a magic that's a little more tangible.

I'm hoping that my research adventures into the world of Magic, Witches, Wicca, and the Occult will open up new avenues of thought. Or maybe something magical/miraculous will happen and I will then have first hand proof that the supernatural is alive and well in this world.

I'm keeping my mind open and my curiosity intact.


Friday, March 29, 2013

Game Playing, Yo!

I am not a game player. It puts me at a disadvantage. Especially when it comes to dating. With my friends, it's a different bag. I am not counted out for being honest about who I am or what I want - but when it comes to dating and romantic stuff...jeeza-louisa.

Is there some rule book that I didn't get? Because it feels like there's this rigid framework in place that I totally have not been clued into.

It's not a big deal. It doesn't make me sad or angry...more like confused and uncertain.

So many dudes talk about how difficult women are, how they can't get laid, they can't get a girlfriend or even a date...well, I'm here to tell you that it's not limited to men. Women deal with the same stuff. We're just quiet about it.

Scratch that. We're not quiet about it, we talk ad nauseum about it to our girlfriends, but we don't write blog posts about it (well, maybe a few) or put it out there in the pop culture medium (well, a few do - to their credit). I think finding a partner - or, Hell, just someone to go see a movie with - is difficult all the way around. For everyone.

But it's the game playing that kills me. I just can't do it.

There's this whole weird thing where you're supposed to pretend like you're not interested in someone so that they work really hard to get your attention.

For example, there's like some archaic rule that if you don't reply to some dude's texts, he will - I swear to God - literally text you non-stop a whole, one-sided conversation that you never once have to reply to and by the end of it he's like begging you to go out with him. But if you make the mistake of even once replying back during his frenzy...then he immediately stops texting you.

Game over.

So what am I supposed to do? Be a pretend texting fisherman? Trying to hook some poor guy with my disinterest and then coming in for the kill after letting him text himself into oblivion?


I like you. You like me. Seems like a really simple concept, right?


Makes me want to get myself to a nunnery. At least you're safe from all the bullshit there.

Because God doesn't text.

Monday, March 18, 2013

Waiting In Line

I'm standing here waiting in line at the post office. I have been here for a long time. When Dante was crafting Purgatorio there was no such thing as the US post office - but if Dante were writing his Divine Comedy now, the line I am in would figure heavily in his work.