Saturday night musings

Today's lyrics are from Paperback Writer by The Beatles. I love the Beatles. Yesterday, Blackbird, Hey Jude, Let It Be are some of my favorite songs of all time. I remember when I was a kid my mom would put records on while we ate dinner (yes actual records that have two sides with grooves in them and are played by a record player with actual needles). She would also light candles and she and my dad would share a bottle of wine. So much has changed since those days.....anyway, back to the lyrics.

Dear Sir or Madam will you read my book?
It took me years to write, will you take a look?
It's based on a novel by a man named Lear
And I need a job so I wanted to be a paperback writer,
Paperback writer.

I'm sitting on my love seat (because I don't have a real couch yet, that will be here on Tuesday and after like four plus years I will finally be able to lay down and stretch out while watching movies again) and listening to 80's music on Sirius radio (thank you Dish Network!). This is my wild and crazy Saturday night. You know you're jealous of me, I can almost see how green you are with envy. I just finished watching the movie "In The Land of Women" which I really enjoyed. Incidentally, is it wrong for someone in their 30's to find an 18 year old completely and utterly hot? Just wondering.

Anyway, the movie was good and while some people might have focused on the mother/daughter relationship or perhaps the grandmother/grandson relationship or even the life/death aspect, I found myself focused on the writing aspect of the movie. Because the main character is a writer (in the soft porn industry) who has wanted to write the story of his high school experience for eleven years but has yet to do so. Sometimes I feel like this guy. I have all these ideas inside my head that I just can't seem to get down on paper (or on the computer screen).

But the thing that struck me the most was how this guy, Carter, described letters he'd written to his ex-girlfriend. And how he thought that if he could write the perfect letter then maybe someone would love him and that these letters were the best writing he'd ever done. And you know what? I totally get that. I spend a lot of time when I write trying to find the perfect words, trying to find the exact turn of phrase to illustrate what I'm saying. I do this not only when I'm writing poetry and prose and blog posts, but even with e-mails I write at work. I reread everything at least once to make sure it has the right tone and feel and rhythm. I am maybe obsessed a bit with words....

Somewhere along the line I got this notion in my head that if I write something that's crafted exquisitely with great attention to detail and careful or even better yet deliberate word choices then people will immediately understand me and where I'm coming from and why. Perhaps they'll even fall in love with me. I believe in the power of words. I believe that the pen is mightier than the sword. I believe that one day the words I write will speak to someone's heart. And that is why I must be careful and deliberate when I write. I wouldn't want to miss my chance to touch someone. Wouldn't want to miss my chance to catch the attention of the right person, perhaps even the elusive "one" (or at the very least an agent or a publisher who thinks I'm brilliant).

And also in the back of my mind is the thought that my cat is playing with something in the kitchen hold on.....okay, I'm back. The cat was playing with my earring which I didn't even know was not in my ear. And here's a weird fact about me, if I take my earrings out for a few hours my holes start to close. I guess I have the power of super healing in my ears because it took me a while to get the earring back in (ouch). This is why I sleep and shower and swim, etc. with my earrings in and take them out only to clean them on occasion. Perhaps more than you needed or wanted to know about me. Okay, where was I?

Right, also in the back of my mind is the thought that if I write the perfect e-mail I can make someone fall in love with me so deeply they can't imagine their life without me. Because that's a rational thought. As if my words are so awesome they can reach right off the page and ensnare someone like that. As if me as a person and me in person has nothing at all to do with that. As if chemistry and compatibility were not factors at all. Nope, the absolute most well crafted and perfect e-mail is going to make the difference for me in that department, it will be the one thing that makes or breaks me. I bet there's a support group for people like me. I wonder when and where they meet....and if I send them the perfect e-mail maybe they'll let me join....

Really what it boils down to is my love of words. How they flow together and how the right combination of words can hold you riveted to the page while tears roll down your cheeks or while you laugh or while shivers run up and down your spine as you fight the urge to get up and make sure your doors are all locked and no one is hiding in your shower (or is that last one just me?). I want to make someone's heart swell and soul sing as they read the words I wrote to them. I know she's out there, perhaps we've already met, perhaps we have yet to meet, but she's out there and when I find her or she finds me I will write to her. And she will be my muse, the inspiration which guides my artistic vision.

Also on the subject of writing I would like to know where my blog to book deal is. Have you seen it? Because I feel as though I am behind the eight ball on this. I mean I've been blogging for a few months now so clearly I should be getting a book deal out of it right? Wait, what's that you say? You mean more than like four people need to be reading my blog for me to be getting a book deal out of it? Huh. I'll have to work on that. I'll add it to my goals list for 2009.

And in more exciting news....Maggie climbed the stairs on her own!!! I know I haven't talked about her at all really since her surgery three months ago, but she's doing great (a fact for which I am extremely grateful every single day). We've been going to hydrotherapy a couple times a week (okay, okay SHE'S been going to hydrotherapy I have merely been chauffeuring her there and back). I came home from work yesterday and left her down stairs when I went up to change my clothes. I heard her nails on the floor in the hallway and was so happy to see her little face turn the corner and come into the bedroom as though it was nothing, as though it was a piece of cake and she hadn't ever had extensive surgery to repair the chronic herniated disc in her back. She's repeated the feat a couple times since which is a great sign. She still won't go down the stairs on her own, perhaps in time, perhaps not. But I've gotten very adroit at carrying her under one arm and lots of stuff with the other. It's a darned good thing she's a small dog and that I'm not too clumsy!

I don't think she'll ever know how much she means to me. I didn't used to understand the phrase "heart dog" but I certainly do now. Maggie is my heart dog, that once in a lifetime dog. I have a list longer than you can imagine of people who want to take her from me. I'm beginning to wonder if the folks at her hydrotherapists are just not going to give her back to me someday because they all love her so much. You know what they say about getting between a momma bear and her cub? Like just don't do it? Well, I'm the momma bear and Maggie is my cub. And though she cannot read I know that she understands me when I talk to her and that my words touch her soul like her wagging tail and goofy smile touch mine.