Category Archives: Wrist to Forehead Sunday

Wrist to Aching Forehead

I checked. A mere three days ago I did a lame post about Why I Can’t Write a Post Today. It’s really too soon for another. Then again, it is Wrist to Forehead Sunday. And I have a headache. I want to write this post and not have it hanging over me for the rest of my day.

I don’t actually have a wrist to my forehead. For one thing, I don’t like to type with only one hand. I learned the two-hands-don’t-look-at-them method back in high school and I still find it fun and a little fascinating. Sometimes I just love to feel my fingers going to the right letters in rapid succession.

I really love writing a blog. It makes me write every day, and I love to write. And it is extremely easy to write. I don’t have to worry about what might this character do next, have I included enough clues but hidden them cleverly enough, is this what the teacher really wanted in answer to the essay question (oh yeah, like I ever worried about that one!)?

Some might say it is lazy, self-indulgent and not real writing (whatever that is). I say, oh, be quiet, it’s fun! You don’t have to read it. (Actually, I think it is the critic in my head who said it and she in fact does have to read it, because she is in my head and I’m reading it. I may have voices in my head, but I am not completely disassociative.)

Now I am being silly (say it ain’t so!). I intend to post this then go begin a marathon of watching old movies I can write blog posts about. When Steven comes home we may have a Mohawk Valley adventure that I can also write a blog post about. If only my headache goes away.

Let’s just chalk up today to another Blogger’s Sick Day. As usual, I will try again tomorrow. Thanks for reading!

Tribulations of a Theatre Junkie

This is a Wrist to Forehead Sunday post. Seriously, I have spent at least portions of the last three days inclined to burst into tears at the slightest provocation, and, really, I must admit, the provocations in my life are slight. I really do have a pretty good life: like my job OK, love my husband, have a great dog. And yet, it’s just not easy being me.

I think I mentioned in a previous post being a theatre junkie. Some people might use a less polite word for it, but I think junkie works just fine, thank you. I became secretary of Ilion Little Theatre Club, pretty much because somebody asked me to. I am in two performances of Strike Story next weekend, just because somebody asked me to. And I have been at the theatre for the past two days and will be there this afternoon, because… if you guessed somebody asked me to, YOU’RE WRONG! Nobody asked me to! I volunteered!

Some people would say it is not a wrist to forehead situation when it is your own stupid fault, but I disagree.

I am at the theatre to sell memberships and subscriptions. Last night I also attempted to sell raffle tickets. We are raffling four tickets for our next show. I am, unfortunately, the opposite of a salesperson. I think I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing: I smile, I tell the people what we’re offering, I tell them the price. They say, “No! In fact, you should pay me five bucks for standing here listening to you!”

OK, that’s not really true. People are very polite, and some of them did buy the tickets.

It’s really not that bad of a gig. I don’t know why my wrist is anywhere near my forehead over it, unless it’s that I have nothing to wear. Or that I would really rather be home in sweats, crocheting and watching crime shows on a Sunday. Or that right now it is hanging over my head: I have to be there in two hours. I have to shower. I have to get my stuff together. I ought to be taking care of a few more chores before I go… Oh yes, the wrist is on the forehead.

Well, it’s yet another post for the sake of posting something. I’m not even apologizing for them any more. Oh, well, maybe once more: I’m sorry to post lame again. I’ll try again tomorrow.