Can we talk about windows for a second?

 

 

My girlfriends and I were discussing living room windows the other day. It’s that kind of talk that gets us all fired up. We’re a real exciting bunch. But honestly, I was surprised at how opinionated we all got. Who knew window grid could be so controversial? And who knew “window grid” is actually called “Mullions”? I do my research when things get serious. For the record, I was in love with the window grid. Err, window mullions.  

I immediately went home and took a good hard look at my living room window. It’s one of those old school huge double pane windows that doesn’t open. The double pane is a little over kill. It always looks dirty because you can’t clean between the panes, so there’s a permanent layer of caked on film that makes it look foggy outside on a perfectly sunny day.

The house I grew up in had that same huge double pane window across the front of the living room, looking out over the front yard. It had three sections though; the middle was the double pane filmy mess with two smaller portions on either side that could slide open.

My mom would hang our handmade arts and crafts hanging in the windows when my siblings and I were young. We would cut pumpkins out of orange construction paper and draw designs on the faces for Halloween, Turkeys with multi-colored feathers for Thanksgiving and green decorated trees for Christmas. I always looked forward to seeing them in the window as I would pass by our house riding the school bus each morning. It would make my heart ache just a little, wishing to be back inside the warm, comfortable living room.

I used to think the kitchen was the soul of a home, so to speak. But maybe it’s the living room. And the living room window is how we allow ourselves to see the outside, and in turn, to be seen. Or maybe I just have way too much time on my hands to consider the deeper meaning of floor plans. At any rate, it’s fun to think about. What’s your living room window look like? 

 

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Voice Lessons

What would you do if you had a week alone, to do whatever you wanted? Me? I promptly grabbed my computer and headed for the coffee shop because writing and drinking coffee are two of my favorite things and doing them together is absolute heaven.

I have pages and pages and pages of random stuff that I’ve written and logged away for later. And by later, I mean probably never but it was better than awful so it didn’t get deleted. Sometimes I come back to a piece and think “Hey, that’s not half bad. You should work on that.” And then I immediately move on to a blank document and proceed to stare at the blinking curser for an hour.

When I’m really desperate (when am I not?) I’ll resort to Googling things like “how to be a writer” or “how to stop staring at the damn blinking curser”. I’ll spend the next few hours reading over all the same articles I’ve read a thousand times before.

Find your voice, they say. Every writer needs a clear, consistent, recognizable voice. Well my voice, apparently, is schizophrenic. My voice sounds like my mood, which has an impressively wide range and can be, admittedly, hard to follow.

Maybe I should spend this week in search of my voice. Although, at 34 years old, one would assume I know what my own voice sounds like. What does that even mean? I just listened to myself say the word “avocado” out loud, just to see what my voice actually sounds like. Then I remembered the first time I heard my voice on someone else’s answering machine and I was floored. That’s what I sound like? It was awful. Almost as awful as me using the term “answering machine” and completely dating myself.

At any rate, I’m working on the whole voice thing. I’m also working on not using phrases like “at any rate” in my writing because I’ve been told I shouldn’t do that. Wait, whose voice am I looking for? Ugh. My inner people pleaser is so stubborn some times.

There are a few things I really need to get to this week, like paying bills and doing my taxes and taking the trash out. But if I died tomorrow, I don’t think anyone would notice that I hadn’t done those things.

That’s always a twisted perspective right? Because the odds are that I won’t die tomorrow and then I actually will care that I didn’t do those things. I’ll actually be totally annoyed that I didn’t do those things. So, here we are. All alive and taking out the trash.

In short, live like you have the week to do whatever you want. And then, do whatever the hell you want, but don’t forget to take the trash out.

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