All posts for the month April, 2012

almost back to the normal

Published April 30, 2012 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

For the past several days (okay,okay it’s been a few weeks) I have been less than prolific.  I mean that as a writer.  Proliferation is relative and makes me think of profiteroles, which makes me think cookies, which, of course makes me want to slack around some more.

See what I mean,  I can’t seem to stay on point.

I have gotten out of the groove of my self-imposed work schedule.  This disappoints and discourages me because in addition to my obsessive need for constant reassurance, I also want to be a high-achiever.  You wouldn’t think that considering what a mess my house usually is and how much dust and cat hair wafts to and fro, not unlike tumbleweeds. Except I don’t have the occasional dust-up (pun intended) with a gunslinger to shake things up.  (Although my cat does occasionally have a stare down at the back window with one of the neighborhood stray cats)

I was doing great there for awhile, but then I had minor surgery, which appealed to the slug in me, then there was the free lance lull, which followed Spring Break, all of these thing led to the slack that is me right now.  I don’t exactly have writers block, I have plenty of ideas and time and the tools to explore these, I’m just finding it hard to pull it together.

The freelance thing is finally picking back up and I should be seeing some funds coming in from that and the substitute teaching thing.  A couple of my short stories have scored very well in a local contest and I am trying to put my ducks in a row for another contest.

I will also need to pull myself together and update my web page really soon. I am switching from Office live to host gator. It’s a long story. and it makes me want cookies.

And we’re back


And that’s all I have to say about that.

Published April 23, 2012 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

Begin the Be-reft

On March 12, 2010, my best friend told me he had three months to live.   I didn’t know what to say; in January he was told that his cancerous liver would give us six to eight months.  What do you say to that kind of news? Who are you going to sue for additional time? It’s not the doctor’s or even the health care system’s fault. So I checked my tongue and counted ahead three months and marked it on my calendar, May 12, 2010 would be the end.

Seeing it made it real, but what do you say? I kept my head on straight and faced forward and did the one thing at time that helped me trudge my way from my job to my friend, and from my friend to sleep, then lather, rinse, repeat.

So many and so few things happened in that 90 days. On several of those days I sat with my friend and held him while he cried because he knew he wasn’t going to get better.  I cried because I couldn’t tell him any different.

On one of those days it was stormy and we spent the entire day in the dark watching old movies and dozing off and eating ice cream.  As I snuggled into the sofa while he nodded off in his favorite chair.  I knew that this would be the last time we would ever do this. It was.

The polite thing was not to mention it.

When the end started to wind down, as I knew it would, I was the one who was the designated voice for him.  I paid the bills, and checked in with hospice care.  I hope I said the right things.

The last thing he ever said to me was “Sniffles?” He had been drifting in and out of consciousness for a day or so and he woke up long enough for me to ask if he wanted ice chips.  He did and I started to cry a little because the ice wasn’t arriving fast enough.

I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I did go all Terms of Endearment on my kid.  I cried for hours.

Four days later he was gone.

Waiting for the people from the funeral home to come and get his body was a ghastly mess.  It took them four hours to arrive.  I didn’t say anything because what do you say about that? The next time he dies, we’re going to go with one of your competitors?

So I didn’t say anything.

One week later he posthumously received his chip for twenty years of sobriety.  I was asked to speak, but I said that I couldn’t.

I didn’t talk because I was afraid I would break down, I didn’t talk because I knew that I wouldn’t. I would hear my own eerie detachment and I wouldn’t be able to laugh it off.  If I heard myself say it, it would be real.  I kept it inside because if I talked about it he wouldn’t be just mine anymore. The minute I said something the thoughts, and love and all of the things that belonged to us and made us special would belong to everyone.

Now, almost two years later, his assets have been liquidated. His house has been sold. I have held him just for me for a long time.

It’s time to let him go.

Here he is.

Steven Scott Garrett died on May 14, 2010.  He was my best friend.  I loved him.

That’s all I have to say.

And I’ll thank you not to talk to my bear that way!

Published April 22, 2012 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

My good pal Steve honestly, one hundred percent , believed that we are indeed in the end times.  Or as he put it, “It’s Chinatown, Jake.”

While I kid about the hope that the Mayans were right because all of my credit cards expire next year, and I often remark  that I hope I have enough notice on the actual world’s ending to get to a cheesecake and a bottle of Grey Goose Orange, I don’t really know how I feel about it.

Dolphins in Peru are a beach (sorry I couldn’t help make the terrible pun.)

There is a heat wave swooping across a the Southwest and the Northeast is about to be monsooned upon again.

The Catholic Church is still doing their “Bitches ain’t shit routine.” (That is my paraphrasing, please don’t think that is a direct quote, but how cool would it be if it was?”)

It does seem that the earth is trying to eject the human race like a bad cow heart.

But the thing that makes me think this may indeed be it is the fact that everyone is racing around like a bunch of freaks.  I am surprised that I am not among them.  I think it may be because I am usually pretty stoned on allergy medication.

I think that maybe the allergy thing is the universe’s way to keep me from choking the world’s bitches. I have been so stoned on the meds that my response time is pretty slow.

A few years ago, I was buying supplies (supplies!) for a lesson plan on multi-sensory external stimulii.  Why yes, I AM very smart.  One of the things in the grab bag was a Ty Beanie Baby that was all black and has the words “The End” festooned on his chest.

Steve and I, having no point of reference, thought this must be the commemorative Armageddon bear.

He and the bear were enjoying a nosh when one of his (Steve’s) negative friends began to boom about the ridculousness of his belief.

Steve let loose with a spout of vitriol in defense of himself that ended with a rousing,

“And I’ll thank you not to talk to my bear that way!”

let’s clear the table, it’s time to open up the whine

Published April 20, 2012 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I’m not sure what’s going on.  I am hoping their some kind of noxious odorless gas seeping into my house that is making me so lethargic.

I’m pretty sure I just don’t give a f*($@#.

There still isn’t much going on in the freelance world, but thanks to my friends, colleagues and co-horts in the Theatre world, I have been subbing enough to make enough money that I don’t feel completely useless. If only I could get rid of the Catholic guilt.

Every day this week I have woken up on time, but haven’t actually started anything productive on schedule.

I have actually worn real, non-pajama like clothes and put on shoes every day this week.   I’ve even worn make-up.

That’s progress.

I wrote an emergency lesson plan and practiced my stern face, which, I have to admit makes me look like a very confused chipmunk.

I’m just really out of it and have been all week.


I’m not really bored, because if I was, I could at least do some dishes or do some research or work on one of the gazillion projects I have set up.

I just don’t wanna.


It just occurred to me that this is my 100th WordPress post.  And this is what I came up with .whee.  I am less than non-plussed.

hugging the (learning) curve

Published April 20, 2012 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I am trying to get the hang of this writer thing,except my brain keeps acting inappropriately, (imagine that) I wonder if a writer is only as good as his/her tools, unless, of course, the writer in question IS a tool, but I digress.  Right now, I am writing on my new netbook.  It just came in today.  It was purchased with some of the money that came from the sale of Mr. Steve’s house.  The idea is that having more portable tools will make me a more prolific writer. 

I will still have the old brain. 

But the computer is new.  I’m trying to  get the hang of things, and according to the results of my neuropsych, I still have a lot of velcoity in my learning curve. 

There are some thoughts that have occured to me in the last few days that I wish I had followed to their logical, if absurd conclusion.

Thought 1: I need to pull all my little story ducks into a row, or at least get them all in the same pond becaue I need to submit several short stories for a couple of juicy job assignments.I know, I know, I just said a few days ago that I would love to have more creative writing opportunities and here I am, unfocused.

Thought 2: I have proof of a supreme being at work in the universe.  I truly believe the ridiculously high pollen count is to make sure that I am stoned on allergy meds 90 percent of the time so I don’t punch anybody out or create some kind of protest.  Twice this week I have heard a minority group refered to as “those people”  Apparently the bigots in question didn’t notice my little brown face or narrowing dark eyes.

Thought 3: I don’t know if I have writer’s block or if I am unmotivated or if I’m just stoned on pain meds. It is possible I should just relax and I’ll figure it out.  Today I actually felt life-like and my computer was slooooww  and my ipod decided it hated me.  This was before my netbook arrived, and by the time the computer things were figured out it was time for me to go to cover a couple of classes.

Thought 4: If you look at a word long enough you will completely forget how it is spelled.

I don’t know where to start (or where to begin)

Published April 17, 2012 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I think Social Darwinism was doing just fine and everyone was getting the message via the media, Samantha Brick and the mean girls that inhabit everyone’s secret childhood trauma that the meek are still waiting to inherit. ( I am very impressed at the amount of metaphor I managed to cram and into that statement) so I don’t know why the world needed  The description of the site is maddening.

People with the following attributes are banned from Darwin Dating:

Sweaty patches. Nerdy glasses. Pocket protectors. Saggy tits. Weird pubic hair. Fat rolls. Acne. Out of proportion noses. Non-symmetrical faces or bodies. Red hair and too many freckles. Hair in the wrong places on women. Pasty skin. Patchy skin-especially skin that flakes on others. Large hips on men. Small jaws on men. Teeth that aren’t white. Teeth that aren’t straight. This is a quote taken from the article  I tried to go to the site but the server has been busy for hours. I am hoping there are a lot of people suffering from the “slow down to see the car wreck” effect.

I don’t really have anything witty and urbane to say about that.

I’m just horrified, and thrilled that I don’t have to deal with that on a realistic level.


I wish I knew

Published April 14, 2012 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

There is something weird happening in my head.  I don’t think this is the kind of weird that’s going to yell “halp, halp” and then drop on me. I am having a hard time getting started in the morning and then staying upright.  Today was pretty action packed.  I subbed for a theatre class today.  I will be doing this again on Monday.  ( I can’t say ‘taught’.  “Taught” implies that an actual learning went on.  The seniors were not checked out, they were borderline insane.  All of  these high achievers seem to have learned all they can possibly learn this year.

They were talking about colleges today and I fought the urge to laugh and shake my head and say, “You poor saps, even if you’re not betting on the Mayans, chances are pretty good that you are going to graduate from college steeped in debt and then possibly wind up taking a job that means you were uncomfortable shoes.” I didn’t say this, because if the world doesn’t implode/explode our just plain disappear, I don’t want to look like a jerk.

This is what I mean by what is weird in my head

Freelance work has picked up a bit.  By this, I mean that there are more jobs being posted.  I am waiting for something to make sense. It’s far too late in the day for me to try and decipher what the client could possibly mean by “use filler”.  I am not flipping word-burgers here!

I have no idea what that meant.