Lies & 1 Truth

The glorious Tulpen Elefanten of Bad Words tagged me in her Memetastic post. Since I haven't done anything fun here in a while according to The Father Load , I'm going to participate.

Here's the poop scoop on this game/meme, according to Tulpen:

You must list 5 things about yourself; 4 of them must be bold-faced lies. Just make some shit up, we'll never know; one of them has to be true, though. Of course, nobody will ever know the difference, so we're just on the honor system here. I trust you. Except for the 4 you lied about, you lying bastards! But don't go crazy trying to think of stuff as we're not really interested in quality here. Then you must pass this on to 5 bloggers.

Now for the 4 lies and a truth:

1. When I was six my baby brother, Kevin, was born and I was super jealous. My parents had just given me this book with its all-too-vivid illustrations of two cartoon characters doing the sex:

image courtesy of Amazon.com

So I asked my brother, Mark, who was four at the time, to help me in my pregnancy endeavors. I ordered him to lie on top of me (I bossed him & he did everything I said) so we could make a baby STAT. He did, we snorted and giggled, and then I told him we were all done. Needless to say, no baby was made that day.

2.) As I was going through security at Nashville airport yesterday, I got stopped because I forgot to put my Poo Potpourri in a ziploc bag. I was mortified, but the TSA guy just chuckled and shook his head,  then handed it back to me.

image courtesy of http://poopourri.com/

3.) I brought The Father Load's giant suitcase to Blissdom and sweated like a pig hauling it through the Gaylord Opryland. What's up with calling it Gaylord, anyway? I always overpack. It's silly because why was I trying to dress to impress 600+ women and four men? I got lost approximately 22 times in 72 hours. I can't read maps. The highlight of the conference? When KLZ (Taming Insanity) ate my banana. Ooooooh. That was HAWT.
 

image courtesy of photobucket.com

4.) I'm hopelessly in love with Natalie Portman. I loved her in Black Swan. Because apparently I'm all dark, heavy, and twisty like that. But aren't many writers born out of dark and twisty lives like Sylvia Plath who stuck her head in the oven?

images courtesy of Google.com

5.) These are my feet:

image courtesy of Google.com

I've chosen to pass this nonsense along to these lucky ladies (who you should be following, DUH):
1.) Terri Sonoda (@Tsonoda)
2.) Snuggle Wasteland (@MsWasteland)
3.) Totally Ovar It (@TotallyOvarIt)
4.) Taming Insanity (@TamingInsanity)
5.) Crayon Wrangler (@CrayonWrangler)


Cheers!

I Just Have a Soul Full of Ladybugs.

inspired by a prompt yesterday via Blissdom Wisdom Workshops

I just have... wildflowers in my heart

I just have... poetry pouring out of a hole in my head.

I just have... eyes that are puffy from tears I hold back. Or the tears I can't.

I just have....love etched on my arms.

I just have... a soul full of ladybugs, butterflies, and songbirds.



I just have....aching, papery skin that shrinks away from touch.

I just have...fireworks of longing going off inside me, hues of purple, pink, and orange.

I just have...spiderwebs in places that I've left closed off for years.

I just have...a stomach that stays knotted up like some old rope on a ship.

I just have...an empty womb where swan songs were once sung.

I just have...a heaviness that's too big to hold.

I just have...brown eyes that want to see inside you, see if you're real.

I just have...an angry tendency to compare.

I just have...so much love for others, yet so little for myself.

Dude, Where's My Blog?

So I'm here.
At Blissdom. In Nashville.
All I can say is?

It's eleven kinds of awesome.

Part of me feels like I don't belong here
Amongst all these super smart people.
(This is not just the low-brow Chardonnay talking)

I have a lot of work to do
But I need your help.
That means honest input, critiques, and comments.

I cannot be objective about my own work. I can't step away.

I'm afraid. Afraid of my writing, afraid of myself.
Afraid that my life will be reduced to getting crunk at cronferences.
Just dreaming about the writer I could be.
Instead of taking chances---submitting posts for publication and not caring whether "they" accept something or not. Have to keep trying. Practicing.

I'm afraid of saying things. Things that will alienate you.
Things that might even scare me. I'm not sure what's underneath,
This dinosaur buried in the rubble. I'm chipping away slowly,
Because fear is a dirty fool.

But I am still here.
It's a first step.

I love you all.
Thank you for reading.
There are no real words.
I am grateful and scared and humbled here.
I will never be a "big blogger," but I don't wanna be.
I wanna be the girl next door. Who's a writer.
Who you love to stop by and read.

Because that is who I am.

Blissdom, here I come!

As if this space isn't already selfish enough about me, I thought I'd copy Crayon Wrangler and write a special post dedicated to Blissdom, the upcoming conference I'm attending. Just so we can get the initial awkwardness over with, I'm going to introduce myself here and get all the small talk out of the way. Mmmmm'kay?

I'm Erin & this is me with my kiddos. Yes they are twins. No, they are not identical. Yes, I knew I was having twins. No, twins do not run in our family.

No, these little darlings are not coming with me.

This conference is about me, not my kids.

I'm a nervous conference newbie. Although I know my roommates pretty well (@elainea & @birdonthestreet), Blissdom is big, the Opryland Hotel is huge, and I'm feeling very, very small. I'm grateful for the Blissdom column I've created in Tweetdeck so I can easily "meet" and "see" everyone beforehand and try to match names and faces with blog titles, etc. But please forgive me if I confuse you with someone else or call you by the wrong name.

I'm going to Nashville to learn how to be a better writer and blogger. I'm a sponge just dying to absorb absolutely everything I can. I'm going so I can meet other people who want similar things and network with them. We will learn from each other, too.

I tend to be shy. I love to laugh and I giggle a lot when I'm anxious. I have to fight the urge to go hide in a corner. I'm terrible at starting up conversations. But next week I am going to stuff all my insecurities so I can get the most out of the conference, out of you, and out of myself. I don't want to waste those three precious days worrying about the kids, the dog, and whether or not the house is on fire; this is my time. And you know what? I am fun, damn it. So let's hang out and have a blast!

Blissdom is my gift to myself: it's for me, about me. Because I'm worth it.

What about you? If you're not going to Blissdom, what have you done for yourself lately?

Ten Things I'm Willing to Admit to Myself (& You)

And so 2011 begins.
I don't make resolutions because they just beg to be broken; but I do have goals for the new year:

1. Starting today, I'll be writing my morning pages before the girls wake up. This will become my daily ritual, my alone time to think, write and let the words tumble out.  Eventually I hope this will evolve into the beginning of a beautiful book. Don't get your hopes up.
2. I'm working on a brand new site, my own domain/ dot com. I'm excited, but so anxious I've got the runs. I won't be The Mother Load anymore. It'll be a fresh start and I hope you'll follow me over to my new digs when it's time.
3. I'm going to Blissdom, a writing/blogging conference in Nashville at the end of January.

In order to be successful, I have to admit some things to myself and to you so we're all on the same page.

1. It is going to royally suck be really hard to wake up at 5:15 a.m. every day. But I have two (cyber)writing partners who are holding me accountable: Ashlei at Shades of Blue & Green and Nancy at Away We Go. We plan to check in with one another on Twitter every morning at the ass crack of dawn.
2. A lot of what I write will may be utter crap. And that's okay. The point is just to get into the habit of writing for several hours daily.
3. There will may be days when I hit a wall. I'm not perfect. No one is. (Right?)
4. I'm scared to death of my new blog/site. I'm not even really sure what I want it to look like. All I know is what I don't want it to look like. Le sigh.
5. I'm going to Blissdom at the end of this month and that also scares the pants off of me. But I registered, bought my plane tickets, and booked my hotel room, complete with two darling roommates. So there's no going back. Done deal.
6. I'm worried I'm going to annoy the heck out of said roommates at Blissdom. Also? I don't want them to know that I poop. Shhhhhh.
7. I'm terrified that "the book" will never happen.
8. I don't know what I'll do if the words won't come? (call Ashlei & Nancy or refer to Bird by Bird?)
9. I will may need lots of help: pressure, pep talks, and ass kicking. Alcoholic beverages are also a given and you might be so lucky as to witness a good cry.
10. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. With any of this. A minute ago I had "hell" written there instead of fuck. But fuck it. Oh wait, that sounds bad...

What are YOU willing to admit to yourself? Please leave it in the comments---profanity and all.

Jump.

At first I thought I was free falling, Tom Petty style. But I'm too Type A for that.

I realized I'm jumping headlong. I'm in the middle of a daring, deliberate, exciting, exuberant leap--into 2011. In my OCD way, I've thought about it long & hard but it's time to shit or get off the pot  so it's time I make a conscious JUMP. Like this one, only perhaps slightly less graceful.



I'm attending my first bona fide writing/blogging conference, Blissdom, in Nashville next month. I have two kick-ass roommates, both Louisiana gals: @elainea & @birdonthestreet. Initially I was on the fence about it, but while at lunch with my mom and Katy (@birdonthestreet), there was some serious arm twisting going on the lightbulb went off. And The Voice said:

What are you waiting for?

Now is your time. It's your turn.

Just go for it, you deserve this. You need this.

This will help you start writing your story. It's your time.

A lot of this also stems from the incredible book I just finished, Love Your Mess, by @AllisonNazarian. I'm embracing myself as I am, while at the same time taking steps toward a new me, a me who is comfortable in her own skin. I. LOVE. MY. MESS. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, people.


What are you jumping into for 2011? It's okay to be scared.