Writin', Readin', and Racin' Three Wheelers in the Mud

Two points today:
Point 1. Last night I had a dream that I was searching the mall I frequently dream about (it's a mythic mall-- with lots of floors, escalators and a giant food court-- I've dreamt about it in various ways since I was about 13) for a special blank journal book to write in. Generally when I dream about "the mall" it's a signal that I'm searching for something (duh) and usually it's something vague-- I'm shopping for a special outfit (formal) often, or sexy undergarments*. But this time I was looking for a pretty journal blank book because I wanted to write a journal.

I knew in the dream that I had this blog, but apparently in my dream I was also aware that I don't want to write everything in this public forum, and wanted to write about the things that I won't write about here. Of course, I wasn't finding the book that I wanted. I found one with a pretty cover but it had very small spaces for writing-- and I'm way too long winded for that. As soon as I woke up, I knew that if I really wanted this kind of thing I had to go to one of the big chain bookstores-- they have gorgeous blank books at those stores. But in real life, I've bought those kinds of books several times & hardly ever end up writing in them. I kept a journal pretty religiously back when I was a young college student/senior in high school. But since then, most of my writing has been formal academic stuff. Anyway.

The whole point is to think about my writing desires, my "flow" and purpose in writing down these comments for a slightly larger audience every day. Apparently, what I write does attract some folks who think I'm funny, or interesting, or whatever. I've had commenters say things like "Surely you already have a book published that I could read." Aside from the obvious support of Mom (hi Mom) and family & friends, there are complete strangers who tune in to see how I "turn a phrase" and/or what's happening in my life most days. Maybe many of them are still just wondering if I'll ever get my dissertation written (hey, that could be my superhero quest-- I'm ABD GIRL whose superpower is AVOIDANCE!!! And I can't wait to get the tights and go-go boots for my costume). But clearly, my subconscious has something to say about my writing. The stuff I really love is this semi-autobiographical, sometimes a bit confessional stuff here in the "blog." Why didn't I do my dissertation on that, dammit?! (Short answer: blogs weren't very popular yet back when I had to decide on the topic.)

Point 2: and more fun. A week or so ago, I noticed this new song being promoted on Rhapsody. It was called "Redneck Woman" by Gretchen Wilson. I listened and thought-- "Yes. This is the next Shania Twain style "country girl power" anthem. Apparently I was right. Wilson is on CNN Headline news this morning; her song is "racing up the charts"; and yet, as far as I can tell, she still doesn't even have an album out yet. (You can hear the song if it's not playing on the website by forwarding the "CD Control at the top of the screen. You can also watch the video if you just log in. It's pretty cool; has Kid Rock & Tanya Tucker & Hank Williams Jr. in it).

Now, I am not exactly a "Redneck woman"*# but I grew up primarily in the South and I like the song a lot. It's fun, and it sings a positive empowering message about what is essentially the "low maintenance regular woman." I can get with that. And I say "Ya'll" all the time, and "I'm fixin' to eat breakfast." (The first you probably know, but if you're not from the South you may not understand what "I'm fixin'" means. It means "I'm preparing to" or "I'm getting ready to" or "I'm about to").

These two posts relate to each other in no way at all. If I were a better writer, I could think of some sort of clever tie-in between them, and you'd end this (rather long-winded) post-reading session with a smile at my wry clever humor in comparing two disparate things. But instead of that, I'm left here with my pajamas on, my reading glasses smudged, and my latte getting cold, at a loss for how to end this. So, then I'll just stop writing. After all, I'm fixin' to get some writing done on my dissertation.

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*I use this old-fashioned way of describing it to try to head off creepy search term phrases.... we'll see if that works.

**Means "All But Dissertation"-- that and a phone card will get you a phone call. It sort of sounds like ADD, though. To which, in a way, it is quite similar.

*#I was born in Illinois, after all, and am not Southern by birth. I'm also not the "plain old country girl" who doesn't "sip champagne" that the song exalts. And, as an academic "ivory tower" dwelling intellectual, I've quite clearly attempted to move out of the trailer park. (but I did live in them most of my youth). But I married a Texan, and I can cook up real southern food and I think cowboys are sexy even when they're dirty & smelly. And I like grits. So-- an enigma wrapped in a mystery. And I think it's hilarious that spellchecker wants to change "Ya'll" to Yale. Snort. Chuckle. Bellylaugh.