I'm really not sure what this is. But at least it's something. I'll get better at this. You watch.
September 19, 2008
September 11, 2008
Read the book! Hear the music!
September 7, 2008
I can't stop biting my nails!!
I'm trying to get back into blogging and I know I should be writing about writing or reading or something book-related, but I’m sitting here trying to write and the thing that is completely preoccupying my brain (and my mouth) is that I JUST CAN’T STOP BITING MY NAILS! It’s, like, compulsive. It’s a terrible habit. It’s as if I were sitting here chain-smoking or overeating or undereating or playing online poker for money. What’s wrong with me? I cannot stop. I’ve tried everything – bad-tasting nail polish, humiliating manicures where the manicurist tries to file my stumps, a rubber band around my wrist that I snap whenever I realize my finger’s in my mouth, will power – and nothing works. I’ve stopped at various times in my life and I’ve loved the way my nails look. But eventually, a nail breaks and I’m compelled to chew it off. And then I have one nail down, but nine pretty nails to go. And then I bite the corresponding nail on the other hand, for symmetry’s sake, and then it’s pretty much downhill from there. I can’t stop. I can’t, I tell you. And I want nails. I want to be able to scratch myself when I have an itch, instead of just rub the itchy area hard with my fingertips. I want to be able to squeeze a zit effectively. I want to pick scabs and dry skin off my body. I want to be able to open things that are shrink-wrapped.
I tend to be somewhat neurotic. Okay. I’ll give that to you. But, even on the days when I’m feeling somewhat calm and happy and in control, the evidence of my manic disposition is on the tips of my fingers. Strangers know that I’m anxious. Friends have gotten used to seeing me gnawing on my digits. When I’m in a meeting trying to present myself as professional and laid-back and fun-loving and sane, my mind always lands on my nails (or lack thereof) and I immediately worry that my future employers and collaborators will judge me. Judge me they should. I’m failing myself. I guess one of the things that inhibits my progress is the lack of immediate results on the few occasions I do go cold turkey. I decide to stop and actually manage to keep my hands out of my mouth for a day or two, maybe even a week if I’m lucky, but my nails look exactly the same. The growth is so slow, so tedious, like watching water boil. Why do my nails grow so slowly when other people have to trim or file their nails every few days? Are my nails scared? Have I broken their spirit? Are they like turtles not wanting to poke their vulnerable heads out of their shells for fear of getting chomped by a big, evil, red-haired creature? I don’t blame them.
Sometimes writing about something unlocks its mystery. Sometimes just being able to articulate a problem begins the process of healing. Sometimes focusing a blog on a personal habit relieves the pressure one is putting on oneself to break the habit. Sometimes one just keeps typing one random sentence after the other because one knows that the minute one stops typing one is going to put one’s left ring finger in one’s mouth and gnaw at the remnants of one’s fingernail until it no longer resembles either a finger or a nail.
In the meantime, if you haven't read my new book, THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE (YEP, THAT WOULD BE ME), go buy it or borrow it or steal it (kidding) and READ IT. 'Cause as long as you guys keep reading, I’ll keep biting… I mean, writing.
I tend to be somewhat neurotic. Okay. I’ll give that to you. But, even on the days when I’m feeling somewhat calm and happy and in control, the evidence of my manic disposition is on the tips of my fingers. Strangers know that I’m anxious. Friends have gotten used to seeing me gnawing on my digits. When I’m in a meeting trying to present myself as professional and laid-back and fun-loving and sane, my mind always lands on my nails (or lack thereof) and I immediately worry that my future employers and collaborators will judge me. Judge me they should. I’m failing myself. I guess one of the things that inhibits my progress is the lack of immediate results on the few occasions I do go cold turkey. I decide to stop and actually manage to keep my hands out of my mouth for a day or two, maybe even a week if I’m lucky, but my nails look exactly the same. The growth is so slow, so tedious, like watching water boil. Why do my nails grow so slowly when other people have to trim or file their nails every few days? Are my nails scared? Have I broken their spirit? Are they like turtles not wanting to poke their vulnerable heads out of their shells for fear of getting chomped by a big, evil, red-haired creature? I don’t blame them.
Sometimes writing about something unlocks its mystery. Sometimes just being able to articulate a problem begins the process of healing. Sometimes focusing a blog on a personal habit relieves the pressure one is putting on oneself to break the habit. Sometimes one just keeps typing one random sentence after the other because one knows that the minute one stops typing one is going to put one’s left ring finger in one’s mouth and gnaw at the remnants of one’s fingernail until it no longer resembles either a finger or a nail.
In the meantime, if you haven't read my new book, THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE (YEP, THAT WOULD BE ME), go buy it or borrow it or steal it (kidding) and READ IT. 'Cause as long as you guys keep reading, I’ll keep biting… I mean, writing.
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