Epic Prolouge

I wanted to post this.  Though it is kind of cheating.  It isn't what is going on right now, but something I wrote a few years ago.  It was an essay for an assignment.  But it is about my pen.  My Papermate Flexigrip Medium Blue pen. 

The assignment was write about something you lost.  While my classmates were writing about people dying and other traumatic events, I wrote about the discontinuation of my pen.  Because I'm sappy like that.  Or maybe because I'm sarcastic like that. 

Whatever.  The title of this sad story is Do I Need To Go To Rehab?

I love this pen. My Papermate Flexi-grip blue medium – I cannot live without it. I love the way it writes – like butta. In my hand, it is like inspiration between my fingers.

The only pen I will use. My life is complete with it in my hand, there is nothing else I need. This pen is my OCD. My hand's OCD.

One pen left in the box. It's time to get some more. Drive to the office supply store. Get more, maybe two boxes this time. There are none on the shelf. Ask a sales associate when the next shipment comes in. Wait, what did you say? They don't make them anymore? Wait, what did you say? They have been discontinued????????

Back in the car, driving home, I do not know what to do. My head is spinning. My hand hurts. Withdrawl. Is that what I'm experiencing? Cold sweats and vomit are coming soon, I can feel it.

Get online. Get on the Papermate website. No Flexi-grip blue mediums available. Oh my god. I will never write again.

Go back to the office supply store. Need pen. Need to find a pen. Need some methadone to get me through. I need some food. I need to write. Hold every pen in the store. Feel it. Write something. They all suck. I hate them all. I'm still starving. I still need a pen.

BIC Atlantis blue medium. Clicky pen. You will do. You're no flexi-grip, but you're not a Rollerball, and that's good. You're smooth. Not butta, but maybe apple-butter. You're not perfect, but I'll get the hang of you. You feel like you could inspire. You will have to do.

Until Papermate comes to their senses.

 
OK, here is the good news, Papermate did come to their senses.  They make my pen again!  No more BIC clicky shit pens for me!  And, of course, I have bought them in bulk amounts in case the famine comes again.

I’d like to thank all the little people…oh yeah, I am the littlest person in the room!

I’m pretty new here. I am still learning my way around, constantly adding and deleting to my layout, and still cannot fix the formatting in my comments.

In spite of my newness (or perhaps because of it), I have been given an award! My long-lost dear friend, Olivia has bestowed a blog award upon me. Honored. I am truly honored.

However, in order to be deserving of said reward, I must do two things.

First, I must pass it along to seven fellow bloggers. That is the easy part.

I feel nervous about the second task. I must reveal seven truths about myself. All at once. For all the world (okay, for the very few of you who read my ramblings) to see. Since I am trying my best to take the fear road of Face Everything And Recover, instead of F&%# Everything And Run, I’m going to put seven truths out there. Maybe you’ll respect me tomorrow anyway. Maybe not. Either way, it was a fun night, eh?

1. Is Ivy Bliss my real name? This is the easy one. Yes. Ivy Bliss, in all its bad-ass-ness is, in fact, my real name. I am not famous, nor do I possess the self-confidence it would take to change my name to something that cool. First name, Ivy. Middle name, Bliss. Last name, irrelevant, unless you are my doctor, work at the DMV, or the bank. My last name is irrelevant because you will not be able to pronounce it or spell it. And it just isn’t as cool.

Buddy Hackett. He is how I got my first name. His daughter’s name was Ivy and my parents met them when they worked at a ski resort in Colorado. Apparently, they had the Lorraine McFly moment, “Ivy, what a nice name.” (okay, she said Marty, but we are talking about me here)

A waitress. That’s where my middle name came from. I am adopted. My parents were on the way to the agency to pick me up and they stopped to eat. Because, the kid can wait, we're hungry! Whatever, mom. Thanks for making me lay in that crib in the orphanage while you noshed on some grub. Back to the story, they had already settled on Ivy, but had yet to come up with a middle name, and their waitress’s name at said restaurant was…yep, you guessed it…Bliss.

So there you go. My name. 

2. I am deeply attached to notebooks and pens. They are my tools for writing. I find it difficult to be creative if I am not hunched over a one subject, wide rule, spiral bound notebook with my medium blue papermate flexigrip pen (the one with the cap, not the clicker) in my hand.  (And usually a cigarette in the other.)

I handwrite all my blogs, then type them in. I hand-wrote every paper I wrote for school, even the ten-pagers. I type later.

Yes, this takes a lot of time. But, it is how I work. I love scratching out mistakes. I love the hurried feeling I get in my wrist when I am in the middle of a great flow. But most of all, I love how my handwriting changes as the words go on.

In spite of all this, I love my computer and wish more people and companies in the world would be paperless. What a friggin’ oxymoron I am!

3. I love to take pictures.  I struggle to find the time to find beauty in my life.  I tend to be hyper-obsessively-focused on my life.  And that makes this difficult.  When I am behind a camera, I feel free.  I have made a committment to myself to take pictures of at least one beautiful thing a month this year.  And by one beautiful thing, I mean a roadtrip (even if just for a day) to see a place I have not seen before, or a place I have been, but not appreciated.

4. I love dogs. I feel more comfortable around dogs than I do most people. I am fortunate to be a house sitter for many people and their dogs. I appreciate the loyalty and unconditional love dogs give and strive to be more like that.  (Yep, that's my dog and me!)

5. I am shy and reserved. All my friends are loud and out-spoken. I am fiercely attracted to outgoing people. I suck at small talk. My theory is that they compensate for me, and others, in turn, think I am great at conversation. As long as I am not responsible for the small talk, I can play along. I feel amped up and more alive when I am with these types of people. It is easier to be social.

I prefer deep conversations, and they come as a result of the small talk sometimes, and that is good.

6. I believe in music and that it heals. In many ways, I believe it has saved me over and over again. The power of music feeds my soul and reinforces my life every day. It brings me to a place I am still hesitant to put into words, but I can feel the sound on my insides, and I internalize the words. 

7. I used to love to write. This blog is my attempt to get that feeling again. So far, it’s working.

Well, I guess that wasn’t so bad. Thanks again, Olivia. You are everything I want to be when I grow up! (If that should ever really happen!) To all the bloggers I bestow this award upon, don’t forget your list and thank you for encouraging me to write on!

Guess I should start typing!

And now for the awards!

http://thatrebelwithablog.blogspot.com/ - My inspiration for starting and continuing this blog. I am glad you are back. We will make time for each other.

http://gentlysaid.blogspot.com/ - Thank you for all your good words. I think we share humor in many ways.

http://murrbrewster.blogspot.com/ - You are funny and wonderful. Thank you for your support and comments.

http://psychedelicsister.blogspot.com/ - Your pictures inspire me to take more of my own and see things others don’t.

http://lizzysends.blogspot.com/ - I have just found you, but I like your style.

http://www.ratherbeblogging.com/ - I love the Fonz, too! ;)

http://jkoyanagi.com/ - You are an amazing talent, and I enjoy every sentence!