Today's freewriting topic: Oops!

I put the topic in the title line in case any other BWP folks want to join us on the blog for freewriting. I'll send out an email later to let people know.

Now, on to my own writing . . .

Oops!

• coffee stains inevitably dot my shirt if I don't use a lid
• blowing out my knee while trying to climb a volcano carrying heavy equipment in Greece
• calling my great-uncle a bad name, thinking I was being funny and getting a talking to by a cousin who was old enough to be my dad
• Chelsea Always Falls--we named a waterfall after my niece because she's so graceful

That's a good story about my niece, so I think I'll tell it.

My family used to do family vacations up in the mountains of Georgia, North Carolina, Tennesee--wherever Dad picked. One of our favorite activities was hiking to waterfalls. My parents had a RV at the time that they didn't live in; they just used it for vacations. One time my parents took their RV, and we stayed at a campsite--my parents used their RV, Wes and I took a tent, and my sister and her husband rented a tiny cabin (seriously tiny cabin). Okay, this is not as good a story as I thought, and I'm getting all the different vacations confused. The punch line to the story is that my niece begged to sleep on the bed over the driver's seat in the RV, but we were worried she would fall out. We had this conversation while hiking to a waterfall. We called her Grace for a year or so. Anyway, just as she argued that she wasn't clumsy and wouldn't fall, she tripped over a root and planted her face into the ground. Hmm, I thought that was a better story, and I think it could be, but I'm not really interested in writing it.

Oops!

I struggle for more ideas, searching my mind for more stories, more potential, but I find nothing. My brain refuses to cooperate, choosing to spite me instead. Stupid brain, literally.

That reminds me of the really mean couple on MadTV who follow almost every statement they make with the word "literally." They attend events, such as kids' soccer games and kids' recitals, even though they have no children participating, and they gossip about the kids' performances.

My brain has attention-deficit disorder today, skipping aimlessly from one topic to another, refusing to settle on one idea and see it through. I wonder why. I sip more coffee, hoping it will cut through the fog, but it has no effect. My brain laughs at the coffee, telling it to take some steroids and come back later.

I like personification. I guess it's more of the Drama Queen coming out in my writing, the Drama Queen I resist in real life. I've been thinking more about the Drama Queen stuff, trying to figure out why I enjoy Chelsea's insistence on drama and absolutely hated a few teachers' insistence upon drama. I think the difference comes down to playfulness. Chelsea, although she would never admit it, is in character when she insists upon attention. She's playing the attention-needy teenager, the dramatic character. It's in fun, and she's making fun of herself. When someone plays the role for real, that person seriously wants attention and thinks her life matters more than anyone else and that everyone else's life should stop until her issues are resolved. That insistence upon being the center of attention unnerves me. That insistence upon taking over the lives of others annoys me. When the center of attention brings humor, well, okay. When the center brings strife day after day, it's time for the center to go to therapy and leave me alone.

And I play with drama in my writing because it's play; it's a way to experiment with other personas. There are lots of people in my head, and I let different ones come out when I write. Not other people in the Sybil, multiple personalities sense, but in the sense of all the different people I've been in my life.

I've been . . .

• a cheerleader, in fact, captain of the cheerleading squad for two years
• a person who desperately wanted to sing in the church choir in fourth grade but was too young
• a person who realized she could not sing and just mouthed the words for a while
• a person who cannot understand song lyrics, which leads me to create some very interesting songs until Wes straightens me out
• a person with a seventh-grade sense of humor, very juvenile sometimes
• a person who avoids ugliness (not in the sense of "Oh my goodness, look at her hair" but in the sense of almost never being a rude customer)
• a person who sometimes hides from the real world
• a person who needs lots of alone time
• a person who enjoys writing more now than I ever did in school
• a poet
• a wife
• a daughter
• a pet owner
• a home owner
• a person who loves word play
• a TV addict, who especially loves true crime stuff and Law and Order and The Tudors and Dexter
• a sunflower seed eater
• a worrier
• a blogger

Okay, I'm not sure where that's going, but I think I'm through writing for now.