SUBLIMINAL THURSDAY: The Waiting is the Hardest Part

I know it's not Monday, but subliminal messages come whenever they damn well feel like it, and I have no real control over them. You'll just have to deal with it. [Or not.]

I love Tom Petty, and in my fantasy life, I know him personally. [Yes, in the biblical sense, along with Ashton Kutcher, George Clooney, and Robert Pattinson, though not all at the same time. Hmm, that might not be such a bad idea...] Therefore, I'm allowed to rip off his song lyrics whenever it suits my needs. Like now, for example.

I'm waiting, and it's undoubtedly the freaking hardest part. AA has the fifth draft of my [awesome, Earth-shattering] YA manuscript, and she even claims to be reading it. So far, two beta readers have finished reading this [mind-blowing, put-Twilight-to-shame] draft, and absolutely loved it. Of course, one of those readers was my mom, but unlike other moms who read their kids' books, my mom's opinion counts. Why? Because she's my mom. [I'm a princess, which makes my mom a queen.] The other reader is a 20 year-old, female, YA fanatic, who is my target audience. Theoretically her opinion should count more than my mom's, BUT, she's not my mom, so she's got less street cred. [I had to add this in case my mom ever reads my blog.]

These [resounding] reviews give me a drop of confidence, but we all know that AA's opinion is - at this [every] stage of the game - the only one that matters. [Please don't tell her I said this. I'd hate for her to think she has the upper hand.]

In the meantime, I'm filling my days with important things like playing spider solitaire, napping, tanning by the pool, and searching for a shore house on the internet. [Usually, in that order.] I would be writing, but I'm not one of those [annoyingly gifted] people who can juggle more than one writing project at a time. If I dive full on into the sea of a fresh, new novel [lousy cliche left over from my 7/8 post], then I will have a hard time redirecting my attention back to my current WIP to make whatever revisions AA deems necessary. ["How can a perfect manuscript need revisions?" you ask. GREAT QUESTION! I have no idea, but I'm sure AA will have the answer.] THEREFORE, I wait. And wait. And wait some more.

So, tell me - what are you waiting for in life? An agent? Book deal? New car? House? Different significant other? [You can leave it in the comments. I won't tell.] Whatever it is you're waiting for, I hope it/he/she shows up soon.

After all, I'd like to think I'm not the only one besides Tom [one of my many hot, rich, famous boyfriends] who believes the waiting is, indeed, the hardest part.

Am I on The Truman Show?

Strange Call

Monday morning I answered the phone.
"Is Tracey there?" I heard a middle-aged sounding man ask.
"No. I'm afraid you must have the wrong number."
"Sorry!" click.
About ten minutes later, the phone rang again.
"Hello?" I answered.
"Is Tracey there?"
"No. You still have the wrong number."
"I can't believe it. She must have deliberately given me the wrong number."
Like an idiot I asked, "Who?"
"Tracey, or whatever her name is - a woman I met at a bar last night."
"Bummer" I said.
"Maybe you can help me. What is it with women these days? Why would they be so cruel as to give some poor guy a wrong number? And, of course, after I'd bought her and her girlfriend drinks all night."
That's how I got into a 45 minute with a complete stranger. We discussed male vs. female, what it's like "out there" after a divorce (it turns out Mike, yeah I asked his name, who's in his 50's was married for 26 years and has been divorced for two), and how do you know if someone is "interested" vs. "lying through their teeth for drinks." And, why are all the beautiful women 'high maintenance?'
"I don't know, Mike," I said, "I run with a pretty good looking crowd, and they're not high maintenance. They're really great gals. I think that's too much of a generalization, like all Jews are this way or all blacks are that way. People are people. Everyone's different."
"Yes," he said, "but it seems like the beautiful ones are the least trustworthy."
"Then, don't go after the beautiful ones," I said.
"But I don't want to lower my standards."
"Look, Mike, you can't have it both ways. You need to figure out who you are, what you want, and go find it. You're way over-analyzing this."
He couldn't believe I judge a guy on things other than his looks. Like sense of humor, views on politics and religion, how interesting he is.
"You mean to tell me a guy gets better looking to you if he has a good sense of humor?"
"Are you kidding? Hell, yeah! In my eyes, Jerry Seinfeld's almost as good looking as Ashton Kutcher!" Not really, but I was trying to make a point.
"I can't believe you're spending this much time talking to a stranger on the phone about his love life, or lack thereof."
"Me neither. I guess you just caught me in a good mood."
"Can I call you back if I have more questions?"
"Sure, I guess."
"When would be a good time."
"There's no such thing. I'm in and out." This was getting tedious. "Look, Mike, I gotta go. I've got a potentially life-changing submission to an agent I've got to get in the mail. Good luck with the girl thing. My best advice? Lighten up a little."
"Thanks. You're amazing. Too bad your married."
"Yeah, my husband says the same thing. Take it easy, buddy, and don't dwell on the bad stuff."

Then I checked my e-mail. My daily Kabbalah greeting that some crazy friend of Madonna's keeps sending me arrived. (Kidding - I don't know how I got on their list, but they send daily words of wisdom that sometimes blow my mind) It read:

Monday, December 8

What were you doing before you opened this email? How was that action helping another person? Heavy question. But if you truly understood what Kabbalah is about – accepting the responsibility of being a channel of the Light – then you’d be thinking only of how to share and care for others.

I looked up at the ceiling and asked out loud, "Am I on The Truman Show?"

Has anything like this happened to you? Or, am I the only idiot who spends 45 minutes of precious writing time on the phone with a complete stranger?

Something's Coming...

IT'S A SUNNY DAY IN PHILLY!

OK, I promised a cheerier post. It's a beautiful, sunny day outside and you'll be happy to know I'm feeling much better! I'll be going to the gym when it opens in about an hour. I don't usually go on weekends, but I've gained 2+ pounds and I'm starting to feel fat. I know that must be horrifying news to all of you , and I'm sorry to drop it on you like that. Reality is sometimes painful. Secondly, I feel like someone has pushed the "pause" button on my world, so I need to take action! Do any of you ever feel that way? Like you're just waiting for something to happen, but you have no idea what? It reminds me of that song from my favorite movie, West Side Story - "Something's coming I don't know what it is but it is gonna be great..." I'd really love it to be a Grammy Award or a publishing deal. I think it's important to dream big. However, it will probably be a refund check for $56 dollars that I overpaid my son's orthodontist or my cat's not messing up the floor in my dining room for one, whole day. Maybe I'm sensing that Obama is going to actually win the election....!!! That would truly be something amazing coming...

ASHTON KUTCHER SNORING
OK, so this probably falls under the category of "TMI" (too much information), but as I write this I'm listening to the not so beautiful sounds of my husband (you know the one who thinks it would be neato to have a menage a trois) snoring in the background. Why do so many men snore? It's highly unattractive probably even in the case of say, Ashton Kutcher, who I would take under any circumstances imaginable including the loudest snoring in the world. In fact, if I were to be in the same room listening to Ashton snore, that would no doubt be a really good sign! But enough of my fantasy life.

STEPFORD WIFE LOOK-ALIKE ALERT!
Did you see John McCain and his Stepford Wife, Cindy, on SNL last night? Could she be any stiffer? She reminded me of the scene from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang where Dick Van Dyke and Sally Ann Howes pretend they are dolls dancing in front of the bad guys and singing, "Truly Scrumptious" (which, by the way, is what Ashton Kutcher is!). Honestly, she makes the Stepford Wives seem like the Smurfs! And, although John was slightly funny in their QVC skit ("just buy my knives - I'll use them to cut out all the pork!" yuk, yuk), he really just seems like yesterday's newspaper. I sensed it was all Tina Fey could do not to reach over and strangle him to death right there on national TV in front of millions of adoring viewers, thereby putting to rest any doubts of Obama winning the election. After all, Tina's the one who said, "If Palin wins, I'm done. I can't do that for four years. And by, "I'm done" I mean I'm leaving earth." That's why she's Tina Fey, because really, who could say it better than that?

And did you see the end of the show where everyone schmoozes and gets all warm and fuzzy? This is often my favorite part of the show - I love seeing the actors, host/ess, and musicians get all cuddly with each other. Again, Cindy McCain looked like she'd landed on another planet where everyone is lifelike, happy, affectionate, and normal and she wasn't quite sure what to do.

"Hel-lo. My name is Cin-dee Mc-Cain from pla-net Stiff-Ass. It is a plea-sure to meet you. Hu-mans are int-er-est-ing crea-tures. Well, good-night. It is time for me to fly back to one of my se-ven hou-ses on my pla-net. Oh, and, please make more hu-man ba-bies. There are not e-nough a-bused and ne-glec-ted chil-dren on your pla-net."

At least John made an effort to shake a few hands and kiss a few babies. (And by babies I mean hot girls like Casey Wilson, Tina Fey and Kristin Wiig.)

Two more days...