wendylbolm

Archive for September, 2010|Monthly archive page

My Nerdery, 2010

In LARPing, New Orleans on September 27, 2010 at 3:11 am

A few years ago, I took part in a kind of nerdery blogging carnival. Now, I live in New Orleans, and I figured I would post about my nerdery, my home office, or whatever you would like to call it. It is constantly evolving and already looks quite different from what it did in these pictures, which I took a week or two ago.

I’m very happy with my productivity corner. I don’t write a lot there. Most of my writing actually takes place in a beat-up, giant armchair. However, I write letters, do homework, and get a lot of day-to-day things done at this table.

In a few months, I might take another picture. I just got back from a White Wolf convention held in New Orleans, and I have a new Laws of the Night on my shelf and some souvenirs tastefully placed around my spot.

I don’t have many pictures of people in costume from the event, but I do have a picture of The Juggernaut Prince of St. Petersburg (One World by Night).

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The Jew (New) Year

In The Writing Life on September 16, 2010 at 5:45 am

The Jewish new year started last week. This year I’m going to open myself up to possibilities.

Yesterday, I received my first rejection letter of the year. My plan is to submit the story to my writing group and workshop it. This week, I’m going to finish the rewrites on another story I workshopped with them and submit it to a magazine next week.

This is how I will spend this year: rolling with the punches and coming out better for them.

Quick heads up

In Uncategorized on September 13, 2010 at 6:45 am

My friend Jenni has a blog up about a summer trip she took to Israel this year. She studied at a Conservative yeshiva. Her blog deals with Judaism, gender, feminism, and loads of other interesting subjects.

She’s an all-around awesome person.

You should check it out.

Awesome dream

In Dreams on September 6, 2010 at 3:07 pm

Last night, I had an awesome dream. It wasn’t a sex dream; it was a love dream.

I dreamt I was a young blond with naturally curly hair. Sort of like Tess from Roswell. With a ragtag group of survivors, I was crossing the jungle landscape of a post-apocalyptic world. In the distance was a large, multi-story apartment complex. We were hoping to reach the building to see if there were any survivors or salvageable supplies, but between us and the building lurked a number of dangerous animals, including lions that were lounging about.

We decided that showing fear would be a mistake. We tiptoed through the menagerie, giving the lions as much room as possible. We could sense the lions’ eyes on us. The last few hundred yards, we broke into a run, me with a baby pressed against my body. When we reached the doorway, we were greeted by a guard; we convinced him to let us in.

As soon as we were inside, a woman offered to take the baby so I could clean up. It led to a conversation I find hilarious at its realism.

Woman: Here, I’ll take your baby. You look tired.
Me: It’s not my baby.
Woman: Oh. (Looking at baby.) How long have you been taking care of it?
Me: A few months. The others wanted to abandon it in the woods.
Woman: Well, don’t worry, I’ll have the little darling back to you as soon as you’ve rested.
Me: Don’t worry. I don’t want it. I don’t really like babies.
(Woman looks horrified. I never see the baby again.)

We were given a tour of the building, and one of the first areas we saw was the pool. (Don’t ask me how a post-apocalyptic settlement managed to maintain the pool’s pH balance.) As we walked up, a chubby gamer boy was walking out of the pool. He pulled on a black and red tshirt, and my dream persona was instantly shy and in love. At the same time, she/I was introduced to the villain of the dream, a cocky jerk who decided he wanted to possess her/me. He only showed up a couple of times, because I guess my brain decided the love parts of the dream were more important.

At night, in the common sleeping area, I stared at this young man, who was always wearing the red and black shirt. I would start the night facing away from him, and when I thought it was safe, I would roll over and watch him safely. Little did I know he usually spent the first part of the night staring at my back in lovesick awe.

He was the settlement’s handyman, and I was their fierce and sassy historian who didn’t take crap from anyone.

One night, when I rolled over, he was still staring at me. We stared at each other in the dark the rest of the night.

The next day, he tried to flirt with me, which I was really receptive to. The flirtations escalated to the point of making the other people in the settlement want to barf. At night, we slept nestled in each other’s arms like little lovebirds. Eventually, the settlement received so many complaints about our saccharine sweet relationship, we had to apply for coupledom and one of the separate apartments set aside for couples.

That’s about the point I woke up.

I think there’s a novel in there somewhere.

I want to be John Waters when I grow up

In Art, The Writing Life on September 4, 2010 at 3:58 am

Sometimes I wish I was John Waters. I enjoy his wit and fierce sense of irony.

John Waters makes the movies I would love to make (or live), but I lack the courage. In his new autobiography, Role Models, he writes that LSD gave him the courage to make his movies.

It’s strange to think my general abstinence from drinking and drugs and negatively impacted my creative process.

I have problems trusting myself. This fear manifests in ways that are annoying. Like, my hair, makeup, and clothes are never good enough for me, because I feel strange candy-gothing myself up as a 28-year-old trying to enter the professional world.

I hold back in my stories, because I’m afraid of what people will think.

Some of my friends might not believe this, but I’m afraid to take risks. This bothers me.

If one day I woke up and found out I was living John Waters’s life, I would be happy.