More narcissim

I feel like I always have great ideas to blog about until I sit down and stare at the empty window waiting for my words. At that point I find everything mundane, or forgotten, or rather ridiculous. I remember what I was going to blog about. I could, of course, just have deleted everything up to the point of my blog and no one would have been any the wiser, but as this is mostly for kicks, I'll let the editing process slip silently into hell while I just do what I want.

I just finished reading Bobbed Hair and Bathtub Gin, an interesting book (or I wouldn't have read it) about some of the notable female authors of the 20s, Dorothy Parker, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Edna Ferber, and Zelda Fitzgerald. Odd, that in my 4.5 years as an English major and Women's Studies minor I had never read or discussed these women. At any rate, I wasn't interested in them academically, but I was fascinated to read about the interaction among various writers and artistic types. I would love to be part of an intelligent, creative, "out there" bunch of creative people. I feel like being surrounded by brilliance would inspire brilliance, encourage production, lead to an overall more fascinating life. I guess I have the desire for something a bit Bohemian, more organic and less rigid than a corporate existence. I fully intend on becoming a professor mostly for the selfish reason that I like academic communities. I enjoy geeking out with other smart people. I get turned on by independent thought and ideas and controversy and noise being made. I am enthusiastic about challenging people, slamming down conventional ideas, and getting others out of their tiny little comfort boxes. Parker, Millay, Ferber, and Fitzgerald were psycho. They were psycho and wonderful. They all crossed paths and had varying opinions of each other, and whether or not they got along or cared to, they made up a really fascinating portion of the "Who's Who" of a revolutionary decade. Sex and the City has nothing on these women, I'm pretty sure... ok, fine. I've never watched Sex and the City. But each  had open and busy sex lives, Parker, Fitzgerald, and Millay each had an abortion (tragic), they frequented countless social gatherings, threw parties, published widely, gained creative momentum in different spheres, won awards or recognition... they were doers. They have re-sparked my creative mind into thinking that I, too can write. They reminded me of the satisfaction I gained in keeping a blog (the archaic emaline0521). They make me think I might be able to work on something to publish. I kind of want to see if I can do it, like I want to see if I could be a decent backup singer. Backup singers probably have the most fun in bands who do live gigs; they wear whatever they want, dance how they want, make eyes at everyone... that's my life ambition. 

Ok, so I am going to publish and be a backup singer. Until I find success there, I'll work toward a PhD.