Catch-up from All Summer

white lined notebook on gray table
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Fog on the brain.

No matter how much I write each day, or edit a sentence, or get through the day job, most of the time that unrelenting fog of obscurity looms in my mind, clouding my thoughts and visions, making me walk in circles with no compass. Uncertainty is always there. It bites.

Yet I still move on as there always be the finish line for any task.

This is a long overdue post so this will be somewhat short.

I want to say that my editing services are still active. A few interested writers came up so that’s a small win for me. Marketing ain’t my strong suit but still learning, even as I juggle a 9-5 office job. Part of that was I found a writer’s group in San Diego full of writers, new and established. I drive down first Sunday of the last few months, talking about the life and business of writing. And it’s managed by Jonathan Maberry!

The meetings are helping me write, confidence-wise, just knowing that I’m not the only one beating writer’s block. Right now I’ve used a graph paper notebook to write two pages a day and transcribe those notes to Scrivener. I then continue on to wrap up the day’s quota, if I have the mental capacity to do so. Any why graph paper? Probably harboring on my Dad’s habits. He was a civil engineer, building houses for a living until he built the B&B in Big Bear.

This year I turned 31 last June. The biggest moment to crown that weekend was visiting the actual JPL headquarters in Pasadena. Yes. JPL. Ho. Ly. Crap. They had Explore JPL happening, showcasing the labs, technologies, and active projects to the general public. There were tours, and one of them was missing control, the very room where the moon landings and Curiosity landing operated. I was restraining myself so hard from squeeing like a little girl. Pics to prove it.

 

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Bucket list moment… checked off.

The day before that, well, was a sad one. Anthony Bourdain. Finding out his suicide that Friday morning was hard, sulking over the inspirational quotes from all over social media.

Instead of writing anything else, here’s what I shared before you might enjoy.

I met him once, but he interacted with me twice.

The first was Twitter, back in college. I think he tweeted about favorite foods or something, and I tweeted back about oven-roasted chicken with an orange glaze/sauce. He noticed it and tweeted back how good it sounded. Very little to anybody, but it felt great after actually making it back home.

The second was in person. He was on tour and his next show was in Palm Springs during college. So I went there after class, my copies of Kitchen Confidential and Medium Raw in hand, grinning ear to ear in the auditorium hearing about his stories on food and travel. At the signing, my copies were signed, we shook hands, and I became a bumbling idiot talking about the chicken tweet. Pretty star struck that night, but hey, you need to meet your idols when you can.

It’s those tiny moments that make life great.

But that didn’t compare to what he was and did outside those times. His TV shows, his books, his work on food and travel journalism, and his massive heart to share that it’s okay to meet the unknown head-on with curiosity was deeply felt across those that watched, read, and heard from him, and they were an inspiration to me. It will be hard to watch and read his work again, knowing I will never hear his voice again, but he did shine light on dark moments of my adult life.

RIP Mr. Bourdain. I raise my glass to you.

Even to this day, it’s hard to see his face on Parts Unknown on Netflix. Like a ghost voice… I’m gonna miss him.

So a month later I went to Northern Michigan with my mom for the 4th of July weekend. I can’t remember the last time I attended a parade or seen that much green forest in a long time, or the small town vibe of Harbor Springs. Haven’t been back for years, not since moving off the mountain and when Dad died. He loved it up there.

Sorry for ending on a sad note, but it’s what I wanted to share. Now, time for me to hit the notebook again.

P.S.: I might—and I mean might—share more on the What Do We Know collection. Why? Boredom, mostly.

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