8.31.2012

The Lit Chick Formula…



How did I become a Lit Chick? How does anyone become a Lit Chick?  You would think that we would have a secret society.  That we disguise ourselves in the shadows of book clubs when in all actuality we are rival street gangs that diagram sentences and participate in fight clubs.  For anyone who has ever said, “sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me” was obviously never hit with a dictionary.  Our verbiage cuts like daggers, our wit pierces like knives.   

We are the proud, the few, the cat ladies…we are the Lit Chicks.

In my studies, I have found that there is a simple equation as to how unsuspecting girls gets transformed into crazy, articulate, grammar checking, spelling Nazis.



You take:

1 part girl, any age will do
2 parts fantasy, Disney and Fairy Tales preferred
1 part fiction, either fan, non, or semi
Equal parts dreamer and romantic
A dash of nerd, a pinch of geek
A sprinkle of social awkwardness

Mix ingredients together and place in either a library, book store, Shakespearean sonnet read-a-thon, or creative outlet and let simmer for the length it takes to read “Gone with the Wind.”

Remove, serve in second-hand store attire, sweater and horn rimmed glasses optional, and enjoy. 

SUCCESS!  You just grew your very own Lit Chick.  

"She's alive! And she can read Latin!"


I was cleaning out some papers this afternoon and came across one of my journals that I had back in college.  It was the semester I was taking Children’s, Young Adult, and Women’s Literature.  That, my friends, was my turning point into madness.  That is when I became Lit Chick Macy.  Instead of credit cards falling out of my wallet when I dropped it, library cards went flying.  The phrase, “I don’t want to see that movie.  The book was better,’ started making its way into my vernacular.  Coffee became my best friend.  I would snap instead of applauding at poetry slams.  I even refused to go on a date with a guy because he had never heard of Paradise Lost!  

#nerdgirlproblems


Not to jump topics, but speaking of lost, upon finding that journal, I realized that going back and rereading my 2008 counterparts ideas made me feel nostalgic for how I used to be.  What I used to care about.  I missed me at that point.  I knew who I was at that point in time, and I want that back!  I was the artsy girl who liked French films and wanted to be a secret smoker like Margot Tenenbaum.  I would stay up late at night and read and recite poetry like it was the ABC’s.  I miss it all.    

Moving to Austin was the best decision I have ever made.  But for the past 9 months I have felt stunted, my mind clouded by thoughts of my parents, old friends, relationships that never were, romances that will never be.  I have re-placed myself physically, but not mentally.  I lost myself in the move. 

Along with winter coats and lunch boxes, I might find myself here.


So what do I plan to do?  I plan to get myself back.  I want to be someone I am proud to be.  I want to wake up in the mornings to a routine and a lifestyle that fits who I am now.  I am not the same person I was when I was living in Fort Worth.  That chick is long gone, and to be honest, parts of her can stay gone.  I am keeping only the best from my former self and allowing it to stay her in ATX.     

Henry David Thoreau said, “Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.”  I am finding myself again in Austin.  I am taking the best parts of my parents, mixing them with the ingredients I care to keep of myself, and rolling them around and shaping them together to make a new person.  We are all evolving, even we book worms.  Perhaps the next stage for us Lit Chicks is transforming into Literature Ladies.

Now if you will excuse me, I have some personal business to take care of.   


8.30.2012

Like sands through the hourglass…



 So are the days of our lives.  


What am I doing?  No seriously, what am I doing?  I am drafting this blog post at 11:40 p.m., listening to “Blackbird” by The Beatles, full off Taco Bell and contemplating how I am going to burn off the calories that were in the red sauce they put in their burritos.  I am sitting in front of my computer, staring at the blinking cursor and it taunts me like it has many times before.  

I remember back in college when I had decided to drop the education part of my degree plan and focus strictly on English.  That little cursor and I became best friends.  When I would stay up late writing papers and essays about poetry, when I would draft non-fiction stories for the fun of it, and when I would need an outlet for expression that little cursor and I would make the best of the situation and create some awesome writings. 

It was in 2009 when I last remember feeling totally right with the world.  Or should I say “write” with the world.  I was in my last year of college, I had my own column with the university paper, and I had written a play that was picked up for a summer theater production series.  Things were starting to feel right, that I had finally found my calling.  

Then shit got real.  

In the span of 6 months, my father had passed away, my mom’s health started to deteriorate and I was working full time while taking 15 hours worth of classes just to finish my degree.  I was the sole bread winner of the family, and in between probate court and shuffling my mother from doctors appoint to doctors appointments, I had little time to focus on my writing career…or lack thereof at that point. 

I was searching the archives of my old school newspaper, The Shorthorn, and I found my columns and articles. In my opinion, they aren’t half bad.  In my mother’s opinion, they were great!  She couldn’t wait for me to get home every Friday with a copy of the paper to show her my clippings.  My dad had my every publication, every article I had written clipped and on the fridge like a child who brought home a perfect spelling test.  They thought I was brilliant.  The fact that they got to see my name in print makes me smile.  It also makes me feel like when I make my student loan payments each month my degree wasn’t in vain.  

Check me out here

I had a thought tonight.  I love my job and my career.  I couldn’t ask to work for a better company.  But I really miss that feeling of seeing my name printed next to an article that I wrote.  That feeling I would get seeing my ideas and thoughts in the hands of others.  That was such a thrill.  I decided something tonight.  While I sit here, still listening to The Beatles, I made the decision to get back out there.  Even if it’s just one day out of the week, I want to get my thoughts back into print. I am not doing it for the money.  Hell, in college I was paid $7 a column.  That is what I considered drinking money for the weekend.  It’s for the love of the art, the love of the game.  

I am challenging myself to put all those scribbles I have in journals into thoughts and writings and get them out into the world.  I may never be a hard hitting journalist, but I will be published again.      

As God as my witness…