Late, Very Late, Midlife Crisis

flowers fun girl hat

It’s my sister’s fault. (Does this type look really small?)

So, she told me about this set up where you dress based on your personality. You do your hair and makeup that way, too. I took the test. OK, it hit me right on the money. It said I’m a crash bar person. I like to get on with it. True that.

So I watched the videos, and they made sense. So I cleaned out my closet and got some new colors of Crocs and styles of clothes. Then I got a new haircut that moves and changed my makeup away from old lady makeup. I feel good, nah nah nah nah nah nah nah. (Hear the song?)

People are saying, “Hey, you look good.” I’m responding, “I’m having a late midlife crisis.” I guess midlife really is determined by how long you plan to live. I do not plan to live to 140, so mine’s late.

Now, how much does this matter? It’s a good idea to put your best foot forward, and my foot is looking a lot nicer, especially in the dusty rose Crocs. However, I’m still me, a daughter of God, and inveterate crashbar person. I still put my pants on one leg at a time, albeit in deeply colored pants. I may, however, be loving my neighbor a little more than I used to because spending a little love on myself makes it easier to spend some on my buddies.

Thanks, Sistiyounger!

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Autumn

nature red forest leaves

The winds come up and the air cools. Little puffy clouds skip across the sky. Leaves fade from green to yellow to orange to red. Daylight shrinks.

My thoughts turn to pumpkins on the front porch, Indian corn on the coffee table and crunching leaves down the sidewalk. The action of summer slows to the last harvest. Apples are crisp and juicy. And my heart inhales.

If winter is dead, autumn is the sadness before the death. Why are it’s colors so happy, so warm? Is it because our Heavenly Father knew we would need the gold, amber and crimson to warm our chilly fingers and toes? Or is it His promise that spring will come again? Or maybe it’s His promise that death isn’t sad, but a new beginning.

 

Platformitis

In these days of rampant technology, writers are being advised to build a platform. This platform, according to the experts, should include a blog – written daily, or at least weekly; and Facebook, Twitter, instagram and some other “presences” I don’t recall the names of, posted with even more regularity; as well as speaking on the subjects about which we writers write. (Do you know how long it takes to prepare to speak?)  I believe this platform-building steals the hope of good writing, especially for those who wish to improve their writing over the course of their lives. There are, after all, only twenty-four hours in one writer’s day, and we all do have to get the dishes done or take out the trash.

design desk display eyewear

Interesting that I’m wiritng this in my blog–kind of an oxymoron in progress. No, not really, though, because it serves to clean my brain of a rant. I’ll just add this. When I was writing nonfiction, research was my biggest “distraction.”  Time-consuming, but far less than my current writing life, then I could spend a fraction of my time on platform.

Now that I’m trying my hand at fiction, there are so many skills  to learn, skills that build on each other and require neverending practice.  This polishing of a writer’s writing should take priority over platform building. If it doesn’t, my writing stands a good chance of being lackluster, ill-conceived drivel.

I know, because I have read others’ who I imagine spent the time they could have polished their fiction — you guessed it, building platforms.

So what to do? Publishers want the platforms so that readers will be drawn in. Makes sense. Perhaps they should consider helping  authors create and maintain their platforms. Or maybe agents should assist with that job? Or perhaps the frequency doesn’t need to be daily or weekly. I’m just advocating for putting the most, best time into the writing.

Rant End.

Brain Tornado

More frequently these days my brain flits from one subject to another so fast I can barely keep up. What’s up with that?  I can be thinking about dusting the living room, when suddenly my brain wants to go to Hawaii. Or maybe I’m deep thinking on the subject of balance and my brain switches to ignorance. That is not to say that I become ignorant, but that I consider the possibility that I really know nothing about anything. I guess that is the definition of ignorance, though, isn’t it. So where am I going with this? Looking for cohorts, I guess.

person holding string lights photo

 

I do begin to feel like there’s a storm forming in my cranium sometimes. And add someone else talking to the mix, and I am whirling, honest. So I wonder, is this because I have learned so much that my brain isn’t sure which thing to pick? Or could it be the beginning of some weird disease? Or is it that I have a lot of interests? Or do I need a shrink?

Maybe it’s the human condition. No, I don’t think so. I didn’t do this until this stage of my life. Wait, what about those times when three kids were all clamoring for my attention at the same time? Yeah, I had forgotten that. Or what about the days I had to study for tests in three classes on the same day. Yeah, there was that. Or what about the images that played in my mind when I waited for Christmas as a child. Holy smoke, I’ve always been like this! How about you?