Go ahead. Blame Virginia Woolf.
I’m about to have a tantrum. Now, I have two kids, and they’re pretty good kids, but one thing they do pretty well at being horrid at is having tantrums. There’s screaming involved, sometimes shrieking, depending on which kid we’re talking about. There are flying limbs, and flying objects. There’s real, visible, passion leveled at the universe.
When the kids have a meltdown, I do my darndest to hang onto my own cool. It’s a real challenge. Nobody likes a tantrum, and responding in kind tends to not go well.
Even so, there’s nothing I’d like to do today more than kick and scream with all the passion and fury of my inner four-year-old. My kids got my temperament, for sure. I might be better at hanging on to my hat as an adult, but that deep-running emotion is still there.
So, it could be Virginia Woolf that triggered this. Or, I could go farther. Last week I found a copy of 50 Shades of Grey, by E.L. James, lying around in a friend’s room. It’s one of the props to his burlesque show, which is interesting in and of itself, but not essential to the story. It was a Saturday, and I didn’t have my kids, and my friend had business to attend to. I was left to soak in the slow warmth of honeyed San Francisco sunshine out on a smoking patio, with a large coffee and most of the morning to kill.
I finished the book in under 24 hours. This might be related to my desire to have a tantrum, but don’t jump to conclusions, yet.
I took a photo of that flower in bud on the same afternoon. It was peaceful. Remembering it helps calm my aggravation a little bit.
Subsequently, I came home and raided my family’s bookshelf. In the last few days I have finished, in rapid succession: Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own, Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre, and Jane Austen’s Lady Susan. I’m now partway through Anne Bronte’s The Tenant of Wildfell Hall.
During the same time, I continued my usual browsing and reading of random bits and articles and videos and such online, mostly via facebook and twitter. I mentioned that this week I discovered the writing of James Altucher, and today I also saw and read several posts by Clay Hebert.
Nothing personal against Clay, but I found myself about to have that tantrum. On the one hand, he wrote a whole post talking about how awesome AJ Leon is, and we all know how I feel about AJ.
Here’s what Clay had to say, though, about heroes:
I’m a girl. I mean, I’m a woman, no doubt. I’m a mother. I’m pretty damn female, actually. I have female parts. There was no assembly required. They just sort of arrived, along with the whole being alive thing, and a parcel of brains that I don’t know what the hell to do with.
Seth Godin, I think he’s a boy. Steve sounds like a boy, too. Aaron, Jerry, Jack, and Dwayne? Heroes.
E.L. James, Virginia, Charlotte, Jane, and Anne were hanging about in my hindbrain, possibly ready to have a pity party about this.
Yesterday, I was on twitter for some unknown reason, and took note that James Altucher, who just landed on my radar screen this week, was interacting with Chris Brogan. Chris is absolutely one of my heroes (as I mentioned in my first post ever on this blog) and I consider him a friend, though he most likely considers me more in light of a crazed and obsessive fangirl. Which I don’t mind much, as it’s more of less the truth. 🙂 Chris was one of the first people I ever met in person after interacting via twitter, and he’s been instrumental in getting me interested in many, many amazing folk over the past two years. I should no longer be surprised at finding connections between these writerly sorts of folk, but this struck me as being just that much more bemusing. I’ve started to feel like there’s some kind of club, and have jokingly christened it the “supersecretclownninja” club:
Super bloggers. I feel seriously outclassed (I am- these guys have been working on their blogs for much longer than I have, and they know what they are doing!)
Me, I’m still blundering around figuring out how not to do stuff. But I’m learning.
In case you were wondering, this is the clown ninja reference:
I have a quirky sense of humor, ok?
The good news is, I no longer want to kick and scream. Yay internet memes.
I thought, wow. I read exactly one blog written by a woman this week, and it was talking critically about another accomplished woman. I love Marcy. She’s amazing. I don’t know much about Sheryl Sandberg, and I’ve not read her book, though I’ve seen some of the fuss. But the awesome ladies club feels a little scary. There’s no soothing clown ninjas here.
Whereas, I found the #secretninjanerdsuperheroclownclub, and it consists of all boys.
Well, watch out, boys. This Warrior Princess is on her way, and she’s bringing her own cape.
Also possibly wearing her underwear outside her pants. You get the idea.