Natasha Fondren » Musings

Life in the Dark Ages

Natasha Fondren — Sat, 26 Jun 2010 16:39:24 +0000

Time passes quickly, doesn’t it? I was just thinking how much my life has changed. Ten years ago, I hadn’t started writing. I spent time on the internet, but it was on a desktop computer and my laptop was not connected to my hip.

I read a lot more. I slept with piles of books.

I did have a little blog! On Diaryland. Cool place. I’m sorry that it never grew big like Blogger.

I finished working, and then I’d start a fire and either watch TV or read books. Or both. I’d get up, do yoga, practice piano if I was able to sit up (that was still when I was sick), teach, and then read more. On days off, I would generally stay in bed all day. Back then, it was such a relief because it was always such a huge effort to try and walk around like normal.

It sounds like a leisurely life, but I was working six days a week, nearly sixty, seventy hours on piano teaching alone. It did not help my illness, LOL.

I don’t miss that life, except for the reading part. The slower part. Man, has my life gotten cluttered with the internet.

On one hand, I’m glad. I’d be dreadfully lonely without someone to chat with or status updates to read while working. But I’d really like to finish working by 6 or so, so I can spend the evening reading.

I miss how fast I read books then, but I wouldn’t want to have a life without writing. I wouldn’t want to give up the friends I have online. Just musing.

What was your life like, ten years ago? Fifteen years ago? How much is the internet a part of your daily life? Reading?

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Lost: Mojo and Confidence

Natasha Fondren — Tue, 15 Jun 2010 01:02:24 +0000

Well, so, I have a piano student. He’s ten. He asked. With big brown eyes. I’m happy to teach him. The father insisted on paying, but I wasn’t going to charge them, so I quoted a figure $40 an hour cheaper than my rate, LOL. When I was ten, my neighbor taught me for free. So I figure this is just turnaround.

It was fun! I enjoyed it.

Sadly, the best thing about it was that I’m so confident about teaching. I know exactly what to do. I feel good at teaching. I don’t have that confidence or feeling of success with writing. I did before. What happened to it?

I haven’t really felt that confident this whole year. I don’t know what’s up. I’m fairly certain I made the right decision, but I think I underestimated how hard it is on the ego to change what has been your identity for thirty years.

I sort of lost my writing confidence somewhere in that.

And I miss my friends. I miss Taekwondo especially.

I can remember plenty of writing sessions where I just sat down and kicked ass. I can’t remember a single one, lately.

I’ve lost my mojo. I feel like I’ve lost myself. I don’t know.

You know, honestly, it’s not just this year. I changed a bit when I hurt my foot. It’s like my Achille’s freakin’ heel, I swear. Seriously, I can pinpoint a ton of things that changed for the worse in my life to that moment. I need it to get better and I need to get back to Taekwondo, and then everything will be better. I hope. I don’t know.

I can pivot now, so that’s a big improvement. I just can’t run and jump. I haven’t tried kicking a target yet. *sigh*

Eek, I hate when I’m moody. Glenn left for Alaska a couple weeks ago, so I think I’m feeling a little lonely.

I’m sorry it took me so long to respond to your comments last week. My computer broke, then I was getting a new one set up and all this other junk. A mess. (I always respond before my next post, at the latest. I think. LOL!) Anyways…

Have you ever lost your mojo? How’d you get it back? Where do you draw confidence from? Where do you get your identity? Have you ever… changed it? What gives you confidence in your writing? Your life?

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We Need A Word.

Natasha Fondren — Tue, 18 May 2010 13:41:56 +0000

I’ve decided to make up a word. Okay, actually, I’ve decided to open up my blog for ideas on making up a word. In other words, I want you to make up a word.

It’s a word like jealous or envy, but with no negative connotations. It’s all positive. It means, “Wow, you lucky duck! That’s awesome. I’m totally thrilled you have X, couldn’t be happier that you have X. And I really want X, too.”

Frenvy? (Friend+envy?) Naw.

Thrilledvy?

Oh boy.

You can see why I’m eliciting your help.

Any ideas for this word we need?

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What Soothes You?

Natasha Fondren — Tue, 11 May 2010 05:00:45 +0000

I like to organize things. It’s almost an obsession. Of course, nothing useful. If something should be organized, it’s likely I don’t have the compulsion. Maybe it’s because I have such difficulty organizing my mind, that if I can find something my brain can organize, it’s very relaxing.

Like if I play campground poker, where all the chips are worth a dime no matter the color, I still sort my chips by color. (No one else does.) Always white first on the right, then red, then blue, then green. The countertop is all messy, but if one thing is out of place in the refrigerator, I’ll drop everything to put it back in order.

What else? Playing Bach. I just love putting all those notes in order, making them nice and neat.

And this is so odd it’s embarrassing: I like to clean up html code. I spent a few hours doing it the other night and just had the most enjoyable time. It was an absolute blast. I felt like I was knitting. I think this week I’ll write a series on how to format a Kindle book.

I’m not sure why I know how to do this, when I have yet to have a book that I can put on Kindle myself. *sigh* Hopefully soon.

What soothes you?

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But If I Had A House…

Natasha Fondren — Tue, 04 May 2010 17:43:00 +0000

Wouldn’t this be grand? (Via Keris Stainton) A room within a room, a cozy little hideaway. I’d make that fluffiness of a bed only half the room, make sure that window was a really BIG window, and put my writing desk inside. Then I’d close those doors so it was just me, all me, and no else.

(How many writers have you heard of who write in closets? There’s something to it, I think.)

Writing in a small space feels safe and gives one the feeling, physically, that it’s only you in the whole world, and you don’t need to stress out your writing with thoughts of what readers think, what editors think, what agents think, what anyone thinks.

Just you and the words. You and your story.

(I’m now missing owning a closet. Maybe I should buy one of these paper playhouses:–>)

Yes, when I was little, I had a room in the cupboard under the stairs. I wanted to make it my bedroom, but I wasn’t allowed. It was an AWESOME playroom. And when I had the whole third floor as a bedroom, I retreated into the back of my closet, behind my clothes, curled up, and read.

You know I live in a little camper. And when we went to look at bigger campers, I was less than enthused. In fact, while I felt it was a practical decision (might be nice to have a working stove and electricity and a bathroom and such), I was everything but enthusiastic.

*sigh* We’ll see.

If I had a real house, I’d want one of those tiny houses. Have you heard of them?

If I had to go big, I could go for the fully-functional LEGO house, where even the sink is made from LEGOs. It was torn down, but when it was standing, it was two stories. More pictures here.

Did you make little spaces as a kid? Forts? Playrooms? Hideaways? Do you ever long for them as an adult? Ever want to retreat while you write? And have you ever written in a closet?

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I Miss Star Trek.

Natasha Fondren — Fri, 30 Apr 2010 06:08:17 +0000

I’d always hoped that the United States would one day grow up to be the United Federation of Planets. In fact, aside from a few practical details, I believed we were headed that way. (Yes, I was young and naïve.)

But if you look at the nineties, you could believe it a possibility. If you look at today’s climate, it seems like we’ve turned our back on evolving into a better country and a more humane world.

Coincidentally, I noticed there are no Star Trek shows on.

There’s 24.

How reflective of our culture.

Which comes first? The chicken or the egg? Do shows like 24 bring about an acceptance of unethical, illegal, and ineffective techniques like torture? Or do shows like 24 succeed because they strike a chord with the beliefs of the current culture?

Don’t get me wrong, I loved 24. At some point, though, it felt like propaganda for Bush’s torture and invasion-of-privacy policies. The show and I had a falling out after that.

I’m longing for a show, like Star Trek, that dreams of an ideal future for humanity. I’m longing for a show that espoused acceptance for and curiosity about other cultures. And above all, a respect for all of our differences and the dignity of each being—whether “other” or alike, smarter, poorer, richer, or less smart.

Even more than missing Star Trek, I’m missing the hope that we are continually evolving into a better species, that our political landscape will become more and more concerned with human rights and freedoms and less and less concerned with making war and being greedy.

Did Star Trek give me that hope? Or did I love Star Trek, because I saw in it the hope I had for humanity? For society? What about you? Do you miss Star Trek?

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What’s A Day Job Like?

Natasha Fondren — Fri, 09 Apr 2010 05:53:58 +0000

Because I think I’ve forgotten. It cracks me up. I got drafted to volunteer for twenty minutes, because Glenn was volunteering for his friends, the campground owners, and his partner in crime wasn’t around to do his part of the cooking. But then the twenty minutes kept going on and on because they just didn’t have enough people, and his partner in crime was not doing any cooking.

I had not volunteered (this is not a charity; the owners are getting paid a ton for this), but when I got roped in, I said I’d stay until 5:30. One lady yelled at me because she wanted me to do something, and I was all, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, tell someone else. I was supposed to leave twenty minutes ago.”

And I have this idea in my head that when I establish a boundary, it will be respected. No, LOL.

She yelled something like, “I’m not telling someone else. You do it.” (I said no again, she yelled at me again.) She was pissed because she got sucked into working and it was her day off. (This campground works their camp hosts like CRAZY. The agreement is 18 hours a week in exchange for a site, but it’s more like 35-60 hours a week. And they all seem to put up with it, which is bizarre to me. They complain, but they all keep doing it. Is this a generational thing? They’re all 62-75.)

I should add that we are not camp hosts. We’re just paying customers. Glenn is happy to chip in because he’s friends with the hosts. I’m happy to volunteer to do water aerobics because I like my class. Otherwise, I’m too busy writing.

So I had had it, because I’ve been working from four a.m. to midnight, trying to get my WIP done. Slaving in a hot kitchen was not on the agenda, especially since I wasn’t getting paid and I hadn’t volunteered or committed to it in the first place.

So I walked away, because I knew if my body was there, people would keep asking me to do things. (I have no idea why they were asking me, since I don’t work there and I had not committed to doing anything.) And the other lady yelled, “I’m not supposed to be here, either!”

And I told her, “Then just walk away.”

She seemed rather astonished, as if this were a novel concept. And she continued working!!!

The whole thing is now hilarious. Is this what it’s like to work for someone else? You just have to put in extra time if they need it, even if they aren’t paying you extra and it wasn’t agreed upon?

LOL, that really sucks. Wow.

Now I truly understand why Zoe quit thirty-three jobs. I don’t mind working extra for myself (for even pennies an hour, evidently), but I’m not real good at the whole working-extra-for-someone-else thing.

Glenn, apparently, had a blast. He doesn’t mind, even if he got abandoned to do the job of two and a half people. That must be normal, too, what with all the downsizing and layoffs. He’s accustomed to working for people, and he just shrugs stuff like that off.

Fascinating. I feel like this was important research. It’s a side of the human experience I’d forgotten about; I’m completely out of touch with what it’s like to work for The Man.

So, if you have or had a day job, what is or was it like? Stories, please!

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Earth-Shaking News

Natasha Fondren — Mon, 05 Apr 2010 01:38:39 +0000

We had an earthquake! A new Arizona experience! It came from Mexico, and by the time it got all the way to where I was sitting in the Borders cafe, it felt like someone was massaging my toes.

My last snowbird friend is leaving the campground in the morning. I am sad. I am very sad. I adore these people and can’t wait until next winter when they all come back. I have a mental list of who’s coming back in which months, so already I’m looking forward to November.

Yesterday it was in the high eighties. Glenn and I went RV shopping (didn’t buy anything), and I was hot and overheated and panting and dehydrated in shorts and a tank top. In Ohio, this is as hot as it gets!

Meanwhile, all the Arizonians were still wearing pants and long sleeves.

Yes, I’m staying for the summer. (90% sure.) No, we do not yet have an air conditioner. (60% sure we’ll get one.)

I want to say something interesting, but I can’t think of anything. And that is how my writing is going. So I am going to harness the magic of blogging and request of the universe that after I finish this thing I’m currently writing, that–

–my YA be a “gift” book. Fast and easy and quick.

Please?

If you had one thing to ask from the magical blogosphere genies, what would you ask? (Okay, don’t get all world peace on me, here.)

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I Love the Stars.

Natasha Fondren — Thu, 18 Mar 2010 02:22:37 +0000

Our camper has no potty. I’ve grown to love this, even though it involves several nighttime trips. If you weren’t aware, there is a law of the universe that states that if your bathroom is five feet away, you’ll sleep soundly through the night, but if it’s a fifty-yard trek, you will have to go two or three times a night.

But I love these nighttime treks. I can’t keep my eyes off the stars. I’m fascinated by them. The constellations tell the stories of the Greek myths. Isn’t that the coolest? Sometimes I just imagine laying on my back with my (thus far imaginary) children and telling them all the stories.

And I can see how astrology developed. You stare up at the nighttime sky, and it sometimes feel like they’re twinkling just for you, like they know what’s ahead and they’ve got everything planned out.

When I was living in a house, I hardly ever looked at the stars. Usually I was inside at night. Even when I sought them out, it definitely wasn’t a three-times-a-night occurrence for ten minutes apiece.

So I feel sad that we’re going to upgrade our camper in the next year. I like having to trek through the open air to get to the potty. Okay, I hate it when I push myself out of bed, put my shoes on, put my jacket on, and step out into the cold.

Then I’m outside and I look up at the huge, cloudless, twinkling Arizona sky, and everything is okay. The future feels full of good things. I believe in magic.

And all the stars seem to reassure me that I’m on the right path, that I’m doing exactly what I should be doing.

Have you studied the stars lately? What do they tell you?

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New Shoes, Old Shoes

Natasha Fondren — Tue, 02 Mar 2010 02:57:18 +0000

I am not a shoe person, not like her. I’m a movie person, a book person, and a save-for-a-rainy-day person. My husband is not very like me in this regard. He buys clothes and shoes and stuff.

Me?

Not so much. Glenn is constantly sighing and going, “You need new pants.” “You need some shirts.” “You need new shoes.”

When we first met, a few months into our relationship, he took me clothes shopping. I thought he was trying to get brownie points, but I later learned that he was less than impressed with my wardrobe.

So it came to be, a couple months back, that I brought a pair of shoes to donate to my volunteering gig. They were appropriated one place, but as I was holding them, someone asked me for them. He pointed to his shoes, and explained why he needed new ones.

In looking at his shoes, I realized mine were ten times worse. We’re talking flapping soles, worn edges, frayed, loose threads. I was speechless. I kept thinking how weird and ironic this situation was.

The shoes were appropriated elsewhere, and given that I was still struck speechless, I gave up trying to make a joke and gave him a hug. I wasn’t quite sure if he laughed at me because I hugged him or because he saw my shoes and thought it was funny, too.

But I finally bought a new pair of shoes. “Barefoot” shoes. Designed to leave your foot free to develop the muscles God put in your feet.

Since several Facebook friends asked for picture, here they are. What do you think? Weird, huh?

Yeah, I know. Style really isn’t my thing.

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