Tuesday, March 10, 2015

day three on day four: freewriting my way to the finish line.

Day three fell over. House of Cards is back on Netflix. Those two things are probably related. Does it count if I marvel at the writing in that show? Does the admiration of someone else's words count toward my own goals? I like to think so. I'm sure I couldn't really call myself a writer if I didn't notice the writing being put forth by others. I don't call myself a writer. I am one. I just, you know, struggle to actually write.

There was a remarkable line in one of this season's earlier episodes, though I couldn't tell you which episode, as we've been blitzing rapidly through them all. How sad will we feel, having gorged ourselves on the season so quickly, forcing ourselves to wait a year or so before new episodes emerge. Time to re-watch previous seasons? Or, perhaps, you know. Write something. I digress. The brilliant line:

"Is this how you live with yourself?
By rationalizing the obscene into the palatable?"

After all, we are nothing more or less than what we choose to reveal.


BOOM. Maybe you need the context. Here's the context: House of Cards, Season 1, 2, and 3.


SPOILER ALERT: Claire dyes her hair dark brown.
USELESS INFORMATION ALERT: I'm getting my hair done in April, and I plan to go a lot darker, too. I had already thought of it, and last night's character transformation by Claire only solidifed my suspicions: dark hair makes a woman seem much, much more intense. I could use some more fierce in my image. My life experience, at current, is one of intensity. I'm required to be bold (I'm not naturally bold), I'm required to be brave (I'm not naturally brave), I'm required to be outspoken (I'm not naturally outspoken). I am being called out of hiding and made to loudly announce my intuitive instincts & insights, when I'd much rather quietly watch the world go by, then pat my pride on the back when I get another one right. My natural hair color matches the way I feel about my natural penchant & personality: mousy, polite, quiet. I suppose I need my hair to match my life. No more drab. Set your former-greys to STUN.


Writing, at its base, for me anyway, feels entirely narcissistic. Who cares what I think? I have an entire blog based on my thoughts, are you kidding me. Why are you here. I don't even say anything interesting, I just talk about myself. Sometimes I passionately divert my words into thoughts about music, TV shows, environmental problems, but at the root of everything, this blog is incredibly narrow in its focus - or, rather, it feels that way. Sometimes I write poetry. Sometimes I wax poetic. Sometimes I journal. But you see? It's all me, me, me, me, me.

Frank & Claire Underwood are hardly role models, and if you watch House of Cards you'll understand why. I'd tell you more but there is an unspoken and heavily enforced limitation on those who've watched the show: you can't just give these things away. You will ruin lives. (just kidding. sort of. but if anyone talks about the Season 2 intro with someone who hasn't seen it, you are eternally excommunicated from the tribe of decent humanity). It's a little bit like the Fight Club, actually. Don't talk about it.

Don't talk about what?

Exactly.

Anyway. Frank & Claire. In-the-whole Role Models. Nope. But, I do find myself aspiring to certain traits, to one extent or another. They are shameless. I don't necessarily want to be shameless, but I could stand to apologize a lot less than I do. So, there's that. They are ruthless. I don't want to ruin lives for my own benefit (they don't do that at all. nope. totally not talking about it), but I do want to make sure I'm defending my own life & household. So I take a cue here and there from the way they approach their business. I've stopped sympathizing with the people who are out to get me, and I've stopped asking for permission to go after the things I want.

I'm not Frank & Claire, after all, and the things I want are fairly boring in comparison. Normal life. Quiet household. Paid bills. 500 words.







today's writing prompt was: freewrite.  I'm so sorry. No, wait. I'm totally not.

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