Notes from the Red Bird House

Lately, people - friends, co-workers, social networking acquaintances - have been telling me I should be a travel writer. I guess they know of my two loves, writing and travel, and think I should combine them. I appreciate the sentiment and the idea, but I've yet to utter a resounding, "I know!" Because, frankly, I don't know. I mean, it would be awesome - AWESOME - to get paid to write AND travel. But seriously... What would that even look like and why would anyone pay me to do it? I'm not a "foodie" and I don't drink or do "night-life", luxury, "hot-spots", or crowds. So, what in the hell do I do when I travel if I don't do any of the traditional guide-book-tourist activities? And moreover, why do I even bother doing it at all? Right? Let's remember one fact - I'm an INTROVERT (Perhaps a slightly extroverted one when the circumstances and my mindset are both favorable, but don't let that little bit of misdire...

I've been asked several times recently why I haven't been writing. I think what they really meant to ask was why haven't I been posting. Because assuredly, I could be writing, working on the novel, or maybe something else entirely - like a screenplay! Sadly, though, the first question is the right question. I haven't written a damn thing in a damn long time. That's not to say that my imagination has been stagnant. I have a new story churning and I could say I've been working on it and it wouldn't be a lie, but it'd be a stretch. A big stretch, like the kind that leaves you sore the next day. How have I been "working on it"? Well, I've watched a bunch of sailing videos, learned the meaning of the term "naval architecture", and wrote an egregiously short plot summary. Oh, and I'm taking an online Introduction to Sailing class. I like to tell myself it's better than nothing. Truthfully, it's nothing. Really. So, why h...

When I learned that a friend's daughter was having some 'issues' with her liver, I made a quick no-brainer decision. If she needs it (and if we are a match, of course), she can have part of mine. I'm an organ donor, or so it says on my drivers' license. I'm a big believer in giving away what you have that you no longer need or want, especially if someone needs or wants it more than you do. I've given away clothes, furniture, and money over the years. I live by the creed 'what's mine is yours' and I walk my talk as best I can. So when I heard about my friend's daughter, the decision was easy. I know it's not an old sweatshirt or a couch or $100, but I don't need my whole liver (they say they grow back, kind of like a lizard's tail) and she might could really use it. My liver's a good one, slightly worn and a bit finicky at times, but she'll get the job done. The poor girl in need is barely twenty-one. She hasn't even ...

                It wasn’t how I planned to spend my Friday night. Red wine with Erin. I hated these nights. I hated a lot of things, if I was being brutally honest. In no particular order – red wine, ugly breakups, my uncomfortable sofa, poetry (God, I hated poetry), selling cars, being broke. I could go on and on. Erin, though, always tried to get me to see the sunny side of things. I suppose it’s what best friends are for. This particular Friday night, I was ready to fuck the sunny side of things.  I told her as much.                 “Fuck the sunny side, Erin. I mean fuck it. Really fuck it. I can’t do it this time.”                 “You damn-well will do it. That girl wasn’t good enough for you. She cheated on you and lied constantly. Lied. She wou...

"Falling feels like flying 'til you hit the ground..." ~ from a cool country song by Chris Stapleton I'm eighteen days away from my forty-eighth birthday and I have to say I don't recall ever approaching a birthday or the start of a year as positively as I am this one. I truly feel like the best part of my life is yet to come, my best stories as yet unwritten.  I guess I'm just in a good place, though I have no idea how I ended up here. I have goals, plans, dreams, a mission. A novel nearing publication. The creation of  "brand". More graduate school. Plans for a new life's work that doesn't require wearing an orange apron. A job I can tolerate in the meantime. Fast runs. A solid backhand and confident volleys. A vacation decades in the making.  It's not always easy, though some may think I make it look pretty easy. I go non-stop all day, every day because you don't get something from nothing. And I'm kind of afra...

When I started thinking about writing this blog about a month ago, I had a few different goals in mind. For the blog and for my running. How did so much change in a month? I finished the Austin Marathon Half Marathon in 1:46:18 on Sunday, good for fourth in my age group and a mere forty-five seconds away from placing third. I also happened to come across the finish line ahead of 6,310 runners. Only 381 people - men and women from ALL age groups - finished before I did. Last night, when I finally let the results sink in, I realized something very important about myself (and thus the change in the blog and my running). A month ago, I planned to write a blog about becoming a mid-pack runner and how not winning could be just as rewarding as getting a Coors beer can trophy or a lump of lacquered cow shit on a plaque. I was going to write a blog about alternate goals and the enjoyment of just being out there and able to run. Then on three months of "training" (i.e. running long...

I've determined, after really not much thought at all, that the reason why I don't blog much anymore is because I have become boring. Once upon a time, I was accused of blogging life rather than living life. This was when I wrote what probably seemed near constantly. Stuff happened or came to mind and I wrote it. It had to be moderately interesting stuff - being an out lesbian in the middle of the Bible Belt sure didn't hurt - to create a moderately ambitious following. Needless to say, I haven't been approached by a hot woman in a bar in years claiming to know my name because she's read my blog. Tell me again how I blogged rather than lived life. Now, I'm apparently doing neither. Granted I'm older, more mature, I no longer live in the Bible Belt, and I have a girlfriend. I don't hang out with a bunch of hot thirty-somethings who like to drink and watch porn. I don't go out much if at all and I'm not a shining lesbian star in a homophobic univ...