no, the two aren't connected, other than in that they have both been on my mind in recent days.
that car has serious issues
have you ever gone sixty miles an hour in a shopping cart? well, neither have i, but that's what it felt like driving the Suzuki Grand Vitara while my own beloved Ford Escape was in the shop for plastic surgery (had a run-in with a Toyota Highlander on 6A in Dennis--not my fault, though. the driver of the tractor-trailer who almost hit the Toyota, which is why the Toyota cut across my lane, was given a citation. i have the worst luck sometimes).
The Suzuki, despised by my entire family except my dad who defends it fiercely, became my mode of transport for a week. Since the last time I drove it, when my even more beloved Toyota 4-Runner was totaled--again, not my fault--things have gone down-hill big-time. My brother had been driving it, and God knows where, because it feels like the wheels are going to fly off at any minute. Ever bump and crack in the road reverberates through the seat and steering wheel. I hit a pothole, and the car tried to jump the sidewalk--the wheels seem to operate independently of each other. Hence the nickname, The Shopping Cart.
I thought I was pretty clever for coming up with that.
and now, for my next trick...
so here i sit, procrastinating when i should be writing. writing something else, that is. aside from the fact that i am at work and should be writing about supermarkets and restaurants, i also should be writing the short story to end all short stories--the one that will get me into a graduate writing program at the likes of Brown, BU, or Emerson.
the problem is fear, that much i know. i'm very good at starting stories, but when it comes to developing them, i freeze. i have a trunk full of half-finished stories and ideas for stories, but not much to show for all my years of struggling. i start, and then i come across something someone else has written, something so cohesive and perfect that i am stricken with the knowledge that nothing my jaded little brain comes up with can ever be that good.
why am i applying to a writing program then, you might ask? good question. i love to write. it is in my bones, and always has been. and i hang on to the thin hope that someday i will coax greatness out of my fingertips, that a combination of nurturing my inner creative child and developing my skills in a Master's program will help me conquer my fear of failure. to be just a mediocre writer is somewhat terrifying to me.
the pressure i put on myself is both necessary and disastrous at the same time. well, maybe more disastrous than necessary.
So that's where a degree from Vassar will get you: glowing with great dreams but afraid to tackle them because you KNOW how many other people are out there with more talent and dedication than you have in your little finger.
it's a vicious cycle, this fear and self-sabotage.
A success amidst struggle
i baked an amazing, beautiful, and delicious apple pie, if i do say so myself. i even made the crust, and did that criss-crossy thing over the top. maybe i should give up writing and become a baker.
