“All we have is right now, this moment. So, if you're going to live your life, you have to do it today. Live your life today.” ----
This is a horribly rough paraphrase of Nate's little sermon from last week’s Six Feet Under. Yes, my English teacher ways are cringing with my lack of correct detail here, but I think it sounds like Nate's warbling I'm-a-hip-Californian-talk. Perhaps I'll never be as astute a faker as Vivian Grey, but I never claimed to actually be a successful dandy. (For all of you who have yet to peruse the wonders of Benji Disraeli's novel Vivian Grey (which would be nearly all the literate world), Vivi is a dandy extraordinaire who makes his way in the world by a lot of schmoozing and a special knack at being able to imitate nearly anything he has read. That and he's hot, if you're into that Regency dandy look.)
Anyway, I never intended to go a week without updating this thing I’ve started. But, first I didn’t want to post because I didn’t have anything clever to write about. Then it was a lack of pictures. The bigger question became my artistic direction… or basically, what the heck am I supposed to write about? As many of you know, I have a habit of being a teency bit on the “last minute” side. No, mom, I didn’t intentionally finish my graduation speech in the minutes before I read it. No, I’ve never given any of you birthday presents six months late. (Hey, in my world, six months late is only a teency bit last minute… they could be eight months late, right?)
I know you’ve all got your theories on the Leslie schedule, but really, it’s generally because I tell myself that I can’t do something before it’s the perfect time, day, phase of the moon. Can’t start sewing until I finish the last project. Can’t write the paper until I’ve finished all the smaller assignments first. Can’t do the blog until I have some wonderfully artistic pics, a tremendously funny story, or a hip and happening life to write about.
Well, kiddos, it ain’t happenin’! Although I’m not sure about the wisdom of taking life philosophy from an HBO program, I think Nate’s little tirade is going to be the theme for the blog and hopefully something I’ll be better about doing. I can’t wait until I’ve got the perfect job, the perfect dissertation, the perfect knitting needles, the perfect crafty room. You’re going to get a messy work in progress.
I know this is much more for me than for you. Shoot, you’ve all put up with me and patiently waited in parking lots for me to show up fifteen minutes late, frazzled, confused and generally lost. You’ve all been excited to get your gifts twice (once in the “idea” stage and once when I actually get the darn thing done). You’ve all laughed at my apartment with dishes piled to the ceiling because I didn’t have time to get them washed before you came. And most of you have even helped me in said messy kitchen trying to finish up some crappy Martha Stewart appetizer that I’d decided to throw together at the last minute. (You know you love to arrive decked out in your finery to be sent to the kitchen to chop mushrooms!)
So, in all my perfectionistic charm, I intended this to be the coolest blog on the planet, imagining that I’d be able to tell you about the coolest life on the planet.
And then I woke up and realized I was supposed to be writing about me.
And then the real light bulb moment… my life is pretty cool, dirty dishes and all.
So, I’m going to try this again this week. It’s going to be a very busy one since I’m leaving for Missouri on Friday. I’m sure funny things will commence…
Oh, and since I believe blog etiquette requires you to respond to comments, thought I’d answer questions.
Erica, my non-crafty-but-still-delightful friend, a fat quarter is akin to crack in my family. Technically, it’s a bit more than a quarter-yard of fabric. Simple enough… But to the lovely ladies I call my relations, it’s something that must be purchased in the hundreds because (a) they’re so cute all folded up in baskets, (b) like those potato chips, you can’t just buy one, and (c) they say they’re going to make something out of them. Believe it or not, I’ve not really succumbed to this family disease as of yet. Of course, it’s only because I tend to buy whole bolts of fabric instead of teency little fat quarters, but that’s another issue…