overwritten
I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it here, but I just changed jobs this week. Still working for a local interactive agency, but I’ve moved departments and more significantly, I’m no longer going to be doing project management-type work. I’ll be doing pretty much all copywriting, all the time. I moved my stuff from my old desk to my new one at the end of the day Friday and the new guy started working Tuesday.
A coworker came up to me today and said “You’re really moved, aren’t you? I just went by your old desk, and like, someone else sits there now…” We both just paused a moment to absorb the reality of my movedness.Â
Moving on.
I still have to train a couple of people in my previous department, but for the most part, I’m now a copywriter, not a copywriter/traffic coordinator.Â
And it came at a really good time, because the volume of copy that needs to be written at work has expanded rather alarmingly lately. Which is excellent–I love job security and we’re getting some pretty cool projects in. But it’s a little intimidating.Â
On a related note, Friday marks the beginning of Script Frenzy, from the insane people that brought you National Novel Writing Month. I’d actually prefer to do SF than NaNoWriMo for a few reasons: first, because the big project that’s been floating in my head a while is really more dialogue-driven (and thus better suited to a screenplay) and second, because June is a much better time of year for me to write myself into a catatonic state than November.Â
Pachelbel’s (Loose) Canon
gettin’ geeky wit it
Apparently, there is an extremely high probability that if you are a  comic geek you are also an advertising copywriter.Â
Who knew?
through the looking glass
To spoil or not to spoil, that is the question? Whether ’tis better to suffer the slings and arrows of plot and character unprepared, or to walk boldly into a fated outcome with head held high.
Okay, waxing a little dramatic on the season finale of LOST, but I think it’s warranted.  Unlike my beloved hubby (who was completely spoiler-free) I read each and every spoiler I could get my grubby paws on before the show. And I still don’t know which of us was better off.  No, I wasn’t surprised by any of the twists and turns.  But I was also not, like Chris, feeling compelled to immediately rewind the tape and rewatch the thing to see what I missed the first time around.  In the end, it doesn’t really matter–we watch the show in fundamentally different ways.  Moving on.
So poor Charlie, unlike Boone, Shannon, Eko, Ana Lucia or Libby, chose to die. Knowing that everything was playing out according to Desmond’s vision, and that if it continued to do so, Claire and Aaron would be rescued, he sealed the door and his fate. Could he have survived? Maybe–and that’s what made his death unique. He passed up the chance of survival for what he felt was the surety of salvation for those he loved. And not before passing on a warning to Des about the boat that wasn’t Penny’s. Excellent, excellent acting job by Dom. He managed to take an event we knew was coming for months and still make it compelling and heart-wrenching. Monaghan and the writers played us like a $2 fiddle, and I for one enjoyed it immensely.Â
Locke made it out of the Dharma Pit of Despair with a little help from a friend. Of course, Walt looked older, and came with a mysterious to-do list that we never heard.  Anybody doubt that the bullet passed through where his kidney wasn’t-but-would’ve-been? 
Chalk one up for the contingent that believes revenge is not a dish served best cold. It certainly seemed to have turned Sawyer’s stomach.  Anyone else notice that he’s now calling people by their right names? Don’t breeze over that. Sawyer is a Three, and it’s very significant to his character development. Tawk amongst yourselves.
Hurley has completed the transformation he began when he first attempted to fire up the Dharma Beer Van of Doom. He went from being the “useless one” that got sent back by the Others to tell the survivors not to come looking for their friends, to being a hero in his own right. Listen to Jorge’s delivery: “I told you, man. I saved them all.” Hurley needed that. He needed to know that he had power of his own, power to change the outcome of a bad situation. For a Nine, that is the biggest lesson they’ll ever learn.Â
And Jack… Jack is probably a post all by himself. Jack did what Ones do: the right thing. And as the flashbacks revealed, he got bit in the hindparts by the same thing that bites all right-doing Ones. Sometimes you’re wrong about what’s right. Sometimes all the empiricism and common sense in the world leads you to the wrong conclusion. Sometimes you just screw up because there’s no way you could know you’re screwing up. And we see what happens when Jack loses faith in his ability to judge the right thing.  It ain’t pretty.Â
So where does the show go from here? Well, after Flashes Before Your Eyes, we know that what’s been done in the past isn’t necessarily unchangeable. The writers gave you a tremendous clue in “LOST: the answers” when they said “This show is all about these characters: who they were, who they are, and who they’re going to become. By the end of the show, that will make up the story of LOST.”Â
I for one am looking forward to three years of finding that out. 
losing my grip is a good thing
It all comes down to holding on and letting go.
I’ve been dealing with a little more existential angst than usual (and for me, that’s a lot) lately. I can’t seem to shake this feeling that I’m not where I’m supposed to be. Or perhaps, that I am where I’m supposed to be, but that I need to have a little sit-down with me, myself and I, about where to go from here. I can see the person I say I want to be. She’s right there. All I have to do is just be that person. For once in my life, I’m not waiting on someone or something else to be able to do exactly what I say I want to do.
I’m just waiting on me.
It reminds me of standing at the edge of the swimming pool. You think you know how to swim. I mean, seriously. You’ve done all the parts of learning to swim. You’ve learned to float. You’ve practiced the motion with floaties. You’ve learned how to breathe right. You just haven’t ever put all the pieces together, dived in, and actually done it. And now, you’re not so sure you can. Or that you should. Maybe you should forget about swimming and take up croquet.
Becoming the person you want to be means letting go of the person you think you are now.
I’m missing a friend lately. I have the luxury of having several friends now, so I recognize it’s good that one can go missing and not leave me feeling like a three-legged stool that lost a leg. But still, I liked this friend, and I miss them, miss their take on things and their unique voice in my personal Greek chorus. Because the friend is a guy friend and not a girl friend, chasing him down and saying “Hey, whatup? Where’d you go?” would be a mistake.
There are several possibilities as to why this friend may have disappeared, the most likely of which is “I’m too danged busy to keep tabs on you, a marginal friend/acquaintance, right now.” But in the event that he’s trying to gracefully exit my life because, for whatever reason, being my friend isn’t what’s best for him, then I’m going to gracefully let him go.
See? I can learn this letting go thing.
the gwen stacy moment
We saw Spiderman 3 this weekend (for the second time–having first seen it at the Georgetown Drive-In at midnight the day it opened.)  While overall I really liked the movie, as a comics afficionado, I have to admit I felt that they cheated a bit on the mythology in one regard: Gwen Stacy lived. Yes, I know that if we’re going to split hairs, Peter should have been pursuing Gwen, rather than Mary Jane, for the first movie at least, and the whole bridge scene with the Green Goblin should have been different. What bothers me about the fact that they didn’t kill Gwen Stacy is that comic books are modern day myths. Myths have important key elements in common, regardless of their point of origin. One of those key elements is, for lack of a better term, “When the Hero Fails.”Â
For most adults, they can point to a particular point in time that was their own personal Gwen Stacy moment. They’re hanging by their fingernails over the abyss, but thinking “Surely it’ll be okay, because the Hero will come and save me.” For each individual, that Hero may be an amorphous Higher Power or a personal God, or a flesh and blood hero.  But for whatever reason, divine help does not come swooping down out of the sky.Â
September 11 was a Gwen Stacy moment on a national or global scale. I think at some level, people really did expect Spiderman or Superman to swoop down out of the sky and stop what was happening. Part of the shock of the event was that no divine intervention occurred–and whether they realized it or not, most people expected it.Â
I have my own personal, individual-level Gwen Stacy moment. The moment that you bargain with God, in the “stages of grief” sense, to not have to go through. The cup that you pray passes from you in your own personal Gethsemane. Like our blonde damsel-in-distress (and on a related note, you have no idea the pain just typing that stupid cliche causes me), I fell and went splat. Well, not literally obviously, or I’d be blogging from the great beyond, wouldn’t I?Â
Which brings me, rather neatly, around to why you have to have “When the Hero Fails.” Because the truth is, I probably wouldn’t be blogging, period, if God had allowed that event to bypass me. Yes, it sucked in an unbelievably sucky way. But it also brought about a catharsis, and a re-evaluation of my life, and an unloading of a lot of stupid false beliefs, and I could go on and on.Â
I saw a clip of an interview with Mel Gibson about the movie Apocalypto, about how the word “apocalypse” means “beginning,” but in order for a new thing to begin, the old things have to end. When the Hero Fails, it destroys the status quo and forces us to create a new status quo.Â
In many ways, it forces us to become the Hero ourselves.Â
a way to waste time (other than blogging)
You may be wondering what I do when I’m not blogging (which, lately, has been all the time). Â Believe it or not, I do spend large blocks of time not blogging. Â Or you may not really care what I do when I’m not blogging. Â It’s possible you don’t, in fact, care when I am blogging. Â Anyway, moving on…
In the last few years, I’ve started playing more video games.  Must be all those years living with Chris and Josh. After beating KOTOR, KOTOR II, and Jade Empire, I was a little despondent. However, I’ve recently found a free online RPG that is somewhat similar to Jade Empire: 9 Dragons. Â
It’s in open beta, so it’s free.  It’s also a pain in the butt to download and install. Â
But it’s free, so all it will cost you to play is a lot of patience.  And it is an enjoyable game.
I always feel like, somebody’s watching me…
Okay, the horoscope people are starting to freak me out.
It’s difficult for you to pretend that you feel less passionately than you do, but others might be hesitant to engage you on your own terms now. You have a decision to make. Maintain your current intensity and accept the consequences, even if it means alienating someone. Or lighten up your presentation, no matter what you decide to do with your emotions.
the dip and script frenzy
I picked up Seth Godin’s audiobook version of The Dip because I figured it would be relevant to both Chris and me, and I thought it might be easier for him to listen to an audiobook than to read yet another book while going through accelerated college classes.
Anyway, it’s quite good so far (I keep getting interrupted about 5 tracks into the CD).  But the idea that is currently whacking me between the eyes with the 2 x 4 of Truth is that to be the Best in the World, you have to quit a LOT of stuff.  I suck at quitting. The upside to that has been that I’ve persevered through a lot of really tough circumstances where lots of other people would have just thrown up their hands and thrown in the towel. The downside is that I’ve wasted a lot of time refusing to quit pursuits that weren’t exactly the best use of my personal resources.
Further complicating matters is that I am and have always been a Jack of All Trades. But the point Seth makes is that when you try to be a Jack of All Trades, being Master of None goes hand in hand.  And being the Master has a lot of benefits.
Let me tell you, I am feeling the pain of that inability to limit my focus right now. All the irons I’ve got in the fire currently are burning my …. well, you get the idea.
So of course, it’s an ideal time to add another, right?
I checked my email and found one from the Louisville Municipal Liaison for NaNoWriMo. You know, that month-long novel writing contest I never complete. Anyway.  I thought, wow, it’s a little early to be thinking NaNo.  Guess what? It wasn’t about writing a novel in a month. It was about writing a screenplay or script in a month.
Apparently, the folks behind NaNoWriMo are starting a new insanity called Script Frenzy, wherein writers attempt to finish a large theatrical piece during June.
Actually, of the two, I’d rather do Script Frenzy than NaNo. And I’m not sure it doesn’t contribute to me trying to become “the best in the world” at something. I do need to drop some stuff. For example, I’ve had a couple of offers to do websites, and since my employer changed their official freelancing policy, I could do it.  But I won’t. Because I’m never going to be an awesome website developer or designer. And trying to be a “fairly good” one would sap time, energy and focus that would be better applied to my efforts to kick hiney as a mom, wife and writer.
I’ll probably write more about this later, but I am still getting back in the swing of things after my sabbatical, and that’s a lot to chew on for now.
loss
I got choked up over chicken salad at lunch today.
I didn’t write about Mother’s Day, because truthfully, it’s not my favorite holiday since Mom died. I don’t think it’s any major secret that I’m not really over it yet. So anyway, I was at Arby’s, minding my own business, when Rascal Flatts “What Hurts Most” started playing. And for some reason, the chorus just floored me. Right there in Arby’s. It was more than a little pathetic.
What hurts the most
Was being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was tryin’ to do
Right before Mom passed on, we had more or less worked out a lot of the typical mom-and-daughter baggage. We had gotten to that place where we really could talk to each other, and found we had a lot to say to each other. But I never did get to say that what she probably thought was me judging her, was really me thinking that she deserved so much more than what she counted herself worth. I was trying to love her when I got after her for smoking, or for not taking care of her health. But it probably came across to her as criticism, and judgment. And of course, it hurts to not know what it would have been like if she’d lived to see and know Madeline, Lindsey, Lucas and Sophie. It seems like there’s this other timeline out there, this “what if she were still here” that sort of haunts me, for lack of a better word.
So anyway, I choked down my chicken salad, and went back to work, where a lovely catastrophe was waiting to rescue me. The catastrophe got resolved, as it usually does, and mostly I was just grateful to be busy, and have my mind fully engaged. But the whole thing made me think about do-overs. I think we all want at least one do-over in life. We get stuck, and think if we could just go back and fix that one thing, then everything would be as it should be.
And that’s wrong. Wrong as in “morally wrong,” because it’s a rejection of God’s sovereignty, and wrong as in “inaccurate.” Reality is as it’s supposed to be. When we make that decision, that somehow, somewhere God screwed up and allowed reality to go somewhere it wasn’t supposed to go, we break with reality itself. It prevents us from connecting with and living fully in the reality we’ve got, this longing for a reality that isn’t and never will be. We get stuck, and become ghosts of a sort, stuck between realities.
It’s natural to grieve and to acknowledge the loss. As sad as it is that Mom isn’t here to be with and enjoy her kids and grandkids, it would be even sadder if we let her passing keep us from being really “here” as well.
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