Tag Archives: confidence

Day 10: Crowdfunding highs and lows (mostly lows)…

April 10

Well if my upcoming birthday isn’t depressing enough (really, I used to get excited for this, not so much anymore), now my crowdfunding efforts to support my attendance at the May 2-3 fiction writing seminar is not catching much action. I am so grateful for my 3 funders, and yet I feel deflated that not more peeps are supporting me. Should I be surprised? I guess not. Am I allowed to be a tiny bit bummed? Okay, a little.

Honestly, I hate pitching myself (but give me a fictional character and I’ll talk your freakin’ ear off, seriously, I won’t shut up and your ear will fall off, but it will be artistic and inspiring as it happens). I don’t want to be a salesperson, I don’t want to have to promote myself and tell people I’m worth it, that’s just not me. But, it is my job to continue to develop as a writer and if I don’t promote myself who will?

So I’m going for it, but it’s (omgee, omgeee) scary. I kind of love-hate it. It’s like asking out a boy at school, you know what I’m talking about…the handwritten note folded up and passed from friend to friend all the way over to the kid across the room who you don’t know if he’s been making eyes at you or the girl behind you and you’re risking it all on this one small effort, this one attempt to be confident and bold and daring!!!!

And then he opens it, the handwritten note that says “I like you. Do you like me back? Circle yes or no.”

And he looks around. Notices you noticing him. Everyone is waiting to find out what he’s going to do. He doesn’t do anything. He just crumples it up and throws it in the trash can in the corner. It bounces off and the teacher goes and picks it up. Un-crumples it. Reads it (gulp) aloud in front of the class.

“Well?” she asks. We look at her, not sure what to do. None of us.

“It’s very rude to leave a question unanswered” she says.

“It was her!” that bitch points at me, you know the one I’m talking about. The girl who always tattles on everybody. Yea, the one with the curly hair and strappy shoes. You know her.

And so, there I go marching up to the front of the class to write on the board that I am a loser (not in so many words, but I was used to getting busted for passing notes so I already knew what I had to write)…”I will not pass notes”.

“Oh no, you’re not getting away that easy this time,” she says, yanking the chalk from my hand.

The class follows up with their typical, “Oooohhhhh.”

“You are going to write a fifty page report examining how your distractions adversely affect other students in this classroom.”

And there you have it. How I began my writing career.

And that is also how random blog posts are born. (Shh, don’t tell the kids!)

Want to help me get high again? (Oh stop, you know what I mean!!! LOOK at the blog post title!) Check out my crowdfunding page for Novel Writing Seminar with Tod Goldberg and chip in, if you feel so inclined (see, I’m terrible at this whole self-promotion, sales stuff…also why I will never receive all the reimbursements from the kids soccer team for the banner I ordered, I just hate asking people for money).


Day 4: Woe is Me!

Saturday, Sept 14

I think this is the first chance I’ve had to sit down all day (aside from the few times I sat to nurse the baby). Saturday! Who says that weekends are for resting? I started out the day with double soccer games for the big kids, followed by a trip to Sam’s Club, then a trip to Super Target, then managed to squeeze in five minutes to inhale the ready-made salad from Super T, and then move on to cleaning up the house.

I had to go shower after this marathon of a day, and it got me thinking how I never ever shower in the middle of the day. You know why? Because I don’t want to have to re-apply my makeup a second time in one day. But, guess what? I didn’t dread the midday shower because I have kept to my challenge and not put one lick of makeup on!

And no one at the soccer game cared. No one at Sam’s Club, or big bad Super T cared. And I’m trying to start caring less, too. But it’s really very hard. Not only do I feel like there aren’t enough hours in the day for everything I need to do, but when I’m too busy I get grumpy. And when I look in the mirror, that makes it worse. Well, it makes it so that I look how I feel (insert frowny face here).

And it reminds me why I love makeup so much. Ah, my great love affair with makeup! Oh, makeup, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways…I love taking those five, ten, or fifteen minutes of applying makeup all to myself. It’s me time. It’s about no one but me, and doing something that makes me happy. I love how, once my makeup is on, I can look awake, and alive, and youthful, even if (especially if) I don’t feel any of those things on the inside. And then, you know what the real magic of makeup is? When I see myself looking alive, and perky, and done up, something happens inside me that actually changes the way I feel and I feel better! I feel almost as good as I look!

But woe, alas (and every other silly poetic melancholy expression) is me. For today I have none of that. And, while I do look a little better all fresh and clean from the shower, I still have difficulty looking in that darned mirror and seeing (gasp!) what I (still) really look like (insert frowny face with double frown here). If it’s not my naked eyes I hate, then it’s my blotchy complexion. I see my face the way I see my house: full of flaws and to-do’s and in need of some touch-up paint.

I am so busy with the kids, but still try to find time for socializing. So, we have another family coming over for dinner tonight. They are good friends (with kids) and I shouldn’t care what they (of all people) think of my bare face, since I know they are not superficial and they’ve seen what I am capable of looking like. But also, I am nervous. I don’t want them to see me all…exposed!

I contemplated a little mascara. That would be okay, right? I mean, technically, would that count as makeup? It’s not on my face, it’s on my eyelashes. But I know I probably wouldn’t be able to stop there. Mascara can only do so much, because eyeliner is what really makes your eyes pop, and then what’s wrong with a little eyeshadow to contour and enhance that look? Dab a little cream blush. Swipe some lip gloss. Voila! No?

No! I’m trying to be good. Trying to just suck it up and go the whole 30 days. But I’m grumpy. Frumpy. And tired. And (waaahhhhh!!!!!) I want my makeup (stomping foot and sucking thumb), now! Although I do admit that so far, I think my skin is feeling a bit better. As in, healthier. Maybe my complexion is even clearing up a bit? Maybe it’s too soon to tell. Maybe I am trying really really hard to be positive and optimistic about this self-inflicted experience.

At least at dinner I can be sure no one will be looking at me because my enchiladas I’m making are so dang good that they will all be busy chomping away. If I can’t be confident about my appearance, at least I know I kill at cooking (9 out of 10 at least). And I sort of wish that I had that confidence in every other area of my life. Looks. Parenting. Writing. Drawing. Even just plain old conversation.

Do you ever just talk and talk and talk and then the person you are talking to just stares, and you wonder if you’ve said something inappropriate or simply talked too much or why they aren’t saying anything? Well, let’s just say that happens to me nearly every conversation I have! Maybe a good challenge would be to stop talking for a month?

I feel like that is about as crazy as this whole no makeup thing, so maybe I’ll consider it. Although I do remember how, for my 18th birthday (and to rebel against my mom, who totally didn’t deserve such a gesture)  I got my tongue pierced and couldn’t talk for what seemed like a week. That was Hell! (And I took the stupid tongue ring out about a month after that anyways)

There will be good days, there will be bad days, regardless of wearing makeup or not. But instead of looking towards my dear sweet makeup during today’s time of need, I have to look elsewhere. I guess it will be food. Cheesy enchiladas (homemade) and chocolate chip cookies (Club made, if you know what I mean, insert winky face here).