All I want to do is write....

But I have such a hard time getting started. I turned to my new friend, Henry Rollins, for inspiration and he has delivered, boy has he delivered.

"I've always seen it as the role of an artist to drag his inside out, give the audience all you've got. Writers, actors, singers, all good artists do the same. It isn't supposed to be easy."

I am relieved that Henry feels this way, that the art of expressing yourself through word isn't supposed to be easy, because I find it so incredibly difficult. I have at least 6 half-written, somewhat thought-out attempts at blog entries and nothing to show.

The silly Friday's Feast that I've done in the past (OK, once) is easy. I like easy today. And it's almost Thanksgiving, so I am digging in.

Appetizer
What was your first “real” job?
My first job was at the BVM rectory. I answered the door and the phone and helped to cook and clean up dinner with the cook. The cook was very tall, kinda overweight woman named Bernie who told me stories of when she was young and spoke so fast that she almost couldn't breathe. My guess is that she truly enjoyed having someone there, to talk at, to listen to her, and help her. Her knees were bad. I wonder if she is still living. Morbid, I know.
My first "real" job as a college grad was at V-SPAN, Inc., a videoconferencing company based in King of Prussia. I was a Reservationist in a huge call center. It was like college all over again, a very dorm-like environment. It was a great place to be for that year right out of school.

Soup
Where would you go if you wanted to spark your creativity?
I like the beach, because it is quiet and serene. It is hard for me to write on the beach though, because of the elements. Elements like the wind and the sun and the families with kids running back and forth from the waterline to their circle of chairs. My creativity comes at strange times: on the train, in bed right before I drift off, at the doctor's office. Capitalizing on these instances is what I struggle with.

Salad
Complete this sentence: I am embarrassed when…
Recently, I am embarrassed when I go to the rhuemetologist and I have to do any of the following:
-Remove any part of clothing. I just experienced my first Humira injection and my doc had to administer the first shot. (I will do the rest at home, on a bi-weekly basis.) I had to pull down my sweatpants just a teeny bit and I was mortified.
-Answer questions about my personal life. Dr. El Creepo asked me on Wednesday at the aforementioned appointment, "scale of 1-10, how is your libido?" At the time, despite my giggle (sexually, I feel 13 on most days), I didn't think that the question was that absurd. It was not until Jackie pointed out the absolute flagrant inappropriateness of this question that I realized something is definitely off about my doc.
-El Creepo makes jokes, of any kind. They are usually somewhat crass and never funny, not in the least. I have to produce a quasi-laugh and do my best not to roll my eyes or make a disgusted face. Complete embarrassment.

Main Course
What values did your parents instill in you?
Easy. Amazing work ethics. My Mom, to this day, works 3 jobs and she is literally a magician when it comes to money. My Dad made a point to do whatever he did well.

Dessert
Name 3 fads from your teenage years.
*Disclaimer - I was a huge geek in my younger years. Who am I kidding? I still am. Any of all of these "fads" may or may not have been hip, so to speak, I may have been the only weirdo sporting them. I probably thought I was so cool too.*
1.) Sock layering, like one color on top of another, to match your outfit.
2.) Biker shorts. Spandex biker shorts. I had the best pair of black biker shorts with a hot pink stripe down the side of each leg. I wore them with way too much pride.
3.) Colored braces. What a terrible idea.

There, that felt good. Just to get something out. Thanks again Henry - more from you later.