I know that title is really lacking, but after my weekend of writing diligently I am way too spent to go digging through my brain and finding something creative. I am amazed I was even able to write this post after all I accomplished this weekend.
Saturday, I was invited to attend an office barbeque. One of the women from the CSR department decided to throw a little get together for Ladies Only. No kids, no husbands, no significant others. I was very apprehensive about attending. While yes, it is true that I feel a little more comfortable working with them, I didn’t know what to expect as far as socializing with them outside of the office. I wasn’t planning on going at all. I mean who wants to spend more time with the people you see every day at work? However, after I discovered the host had gone out of her way to buy ‘Meleah Approved Food’ specifically for my food allergies and medical conditions, I was so touched, I couldn’t say no.
Upon driving to the barbeque, I suddenly became nervous. I may seem like the free spirited outgoing type, but, in reality, I am often shy and introverted when taken outside of my comfort zone. I began to worry that I wouldn’t know how to act around these women. I started to question why I was even invited to this function. Other than work, what did I really have in common with these women? What would I talk about with them? What could I bring to the conversation? Or would I be really awkward and just sit silent with some dumb expression plastered on my face? I had gotten myself all worked up over imaging all of the ways I might inevitably make an ass out of myself that I ended up getting lost. Twice. (In my own town.)
When I finally arrived, an hour late, I was instantly welcomed with warm greetings. The girls seemed genuinely happy to see me. I was surprised and pleased to say the least. I found a comfortable chair, settled in, and let go of my fear. I was relieved when I did have something intelligent and appropriate to add to the conversation. In fact, I ended up having a great time. I was able to see another side of these women. And I liked this other side. I had no idea some of them are very funny. In the office we are so busy, there isn’t a lot of time for joking around. It was very refreshing.
I guess after 6 years, that old expression my father is forever telling me has come true. My father says, “After you spend that much time with the same people, the office people sort of become like a second family.” And yanno what? I really felt that way on Saturday. I am happy to say, I truly feel like I belonged as one of the girls.
After I came home from the party I was able to indulge in the longest nap ever. I slept for a solid four hours uninterrupted. Ahhh.
When I awoke, I was overcome with a deep driving urge to write. I wasn’t about to pass that moment up. I brewed a steaming hot cup of coffee, I slowly smoked a cigarette while I let certain words and ideas marinate in my brain. By the time I went back into my bedroom, I was ready. I dove head first into chapter three of my book project.
But, I found myself struggling with some of the dialogue. I had forgotten how different writing my book is in comparison to anything else. It’s a completely different style, with a completely different voice. It took 2 hours of ‘warming up’ before the words began to really flow.
In order to ‘warm up’ I decided to try something new. I usually have to write in complete silence. I can’t even stand the slightest background noise. However, I wanted to draw the characters out of me. I needed to visualize them with extreme clarity. I needed to coax them out of ‘That Place’ where I had buried them.
Music is an amazing tool. When I worked in the bar, there was always music, and to this very day I associate certain songs with certain dancers I worked with. For example, this one girl named ‘Lady’ danced to Led Zeppelin songs. She had very specific choreography and coordinated outfits for these particular songs. When I hear those songs now, I can clearly see her on stage spinning around that brass pole with style and grace.
I decided to use the power of music to my advantage. I started listening to all of the ‘Old Bar Music’ I usually tend to avoid when I don’t want to remember those days. That really helped bring back the memories in vivid detail. After two hours of listening, my characters came alive. They were dancing around in glorious fashion and talking to me. I could barely type as fast as they were developing.
I wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote. Until 4am.
As expected, I had some pretty bazaar dreams. I usually never remember my dreams. I don’t know what it is about writing this book that gives me crazy dreams.
All I do know is that the last time I was really serious about writing my book, not only did I have nightmares I exhibited some very strange behaviors.
I started sleepwalking. I would wake up in my own living room, re-arranging furniture and not know why or how I had gotten there. But the strangest behavior I executed was when I started sleep-calling people. Yes. ‘Sleep-Calling’ people.
In my dream, I was in the dressing room of the bar getting changed into a new costume. I used the payphone to call my drug dealer. In reality, while I was sleeping, I called my mother as if she were my drug dealer. I left voice mails on her cell phone, screaming at her to bring me cocaine. I didn’t even know that I had called my mother until she called me back, terrified, and played the messages.
Aside from of that, in truth, and in all honesty, I stopped writing my book a long time ago because it was too painful for me to ‘go there’. I like to tell myself that I am over it. I like to tell myself that I have moved on. And, I have. I know that I am a different person now; I am not the same girl I was then.
But, the only way to write my book? Is to ‘go there’ mentally and emotionally. I have to go back to ‘That Place’. A very dark, a very cold, and a very scary place. It takes a lot out of me to go to ‘That Place.’ I have to put on her shoes again. I have to become Jasmine, in order to remember and spill it onto the pages.
I wonder? If I am so ‘over’ all of it, then why does it still hurt so much to ‘go there’?
When I am really focused on my book, I start reliving all those old feelings as if they were new. The pissed off sleeping teenager inside of me, wakes up. And she is still pissed off. (A. Very. Angry. Little. Girl.) I am not going to rebuild all of those walls I worked so hard to take down. But some of the familiar “I can’t be in my own skin” feelings come back. Things I thought I had forgotten become almost tangible.
Another reason I stopped writing the book, was the sheer horror of being that exposed. I am supposed to be this professional woman. I couldn’t have my colleagues or co-workers read or know any of these things. Maybe they would loose respect for me? Label me? Look at me with different eyes?
(I had to do a lot of soul searching to find the courage and strength to publicly post chapters one and two.)
Alas, now that I know who I am and what I want to be when I grow up, I am committed to reinvesting in the challenge of writing this book, with all of that gusto and passion bubbling inside of me.
I’ve figured out that even if I am not as ‘over it’ as I’d like to think I am, maybe I have to write this book to get over it. Maybe I need this emotional process to really heal. And, maybe I am the only one that needs to look at me through different eyes?
I haven’t decided weather or not I will post any more chapters on the Internet? While I’d love to share what I completed this weekend with every single one of you, I am slightly hesitant because I am not really sure how to ‘protect’ my hard work from being stolen. Until I figure that out, I feel it is best to keep things under wraps.
However, I have decided that no matter how scary things get and no matter what sort of side-effects I am going to experience as a result of writing this book, I have to believe this process will be worth it when it’s finished. I am not going to make excuses anymore. I am just going to do it.
I am not afraid of those demons anymore.
I am not Jasmine anymore. I am looking at her as a fictional character. As far as I am concerned, now, she is just ‘good material.’
