Tag Archives: fortune cookie

Stupid fortune

 

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Which one are you?

I made up these little bags of inspiration and handed them out at my writers group this week.

They are loaded with things a writer needs like a mini notebook, tea, chocolate and mints, which are supposed to stimulate brain activity.

I also included in each bag a piece of Mookaite Jasper, a crystal that promotes creativity.

I challenged everyone to think positively about their writing and writing goals as we start 2017. We talked about keeping a gratitude journal to stay in a positive frame of mind.

And here I sit. Stuck.

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Ugh.

“Begin … the rest is easy.” That was my fortune from New Year’s Eve. It’s sitting here on my desk. Every once in awhile it disappears beneath a pile of papers, but it always surfaces, mocking me with its overly simplistic advice.

“I already knew that,” I say to the fortune. I glare at the small, smug strip of white paper.

White like a priest’s robe.

It sits there absorbing the red lasers shooting from my eyeballs. It taunts me with its exaggerated stoicism.

“I’ll begin anytime I want,” I say. “I’m the boss of me. Not you. You’re just a scrap of paper. Made in China.”

Still nothing. The fortune is quiet as a ninja. I assume it’s deep in meditation on the meaning of life or how to best piss off a stuck writer

“I’m not ready yet, stupid fortune,” I say.

The fortune sits patiently, waiting for me to begin.

* * *

Wishing you all great success in 2017!

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The year of the butch

Subtitle: Obligatory post after getting Freshly Pressed (Seriously, it’s in the WordPress rulebook.)

Wow, it’s only January and so much has happened in my busy butch life.

Curse you, evil fortune cookie lady!

Curse you, evil fortune cookie lady!

Before 2014 even started, there was an omen that things were going to be different. A fortune cookie that I innocently selected after a takeout meal of shrimp in lobster sauce instructed me to “welcome change.”  It was an evil fortune cookie, apparently baked and stuffed by evil people in an evil fortune cookie factory. Anyone who knows me knows I despise change. I am more rigid than a brand new pair of Dr. Marten’s eight-eyelet lace-up boots.

Things I like more than change:
— Paper cuts
— Use of the “word” womyn
— Calculus
— That Nationwide commercial with the giant baby

This never happened.

This never happened.

And then the new year came, and the world didn’t explode.

I started writing again after hibernating like a big ol’ bear (or furry lesbian who hasn’t shaved her legs all winter).

I’ve since finished another memoir chapter.

I wrote a blog post about a message from the universe that was delivered by a mystic plumber and got Freshly Pressed. Like three minutes after I posted it.

That’s when I declared 2014 “the year of the butch.”

It’s a new year, and I’m trying to welcome change. Like I would my least favorite aunt or perhaps 35 inches of snow. So, maybe not with open arms but with a curt, businesslike handshake.

I have a whole bunch of new followers thanks to getting FP’d. Is it just me or does that sound weird and wrong?

So, welcome new followers.

A few things you should know about me:

  • Pet peeves — Use of the “word” womyn. (You can’t just make up words, people. Old crunchy lesbian, I’m talking to you.)
  • Confession — Sometimes I blog about my cats. (You can read my all-time favorite cat story here in a post deftly titled “Of mice and lesbians.”)  I have no clue why this has not been optioned for a TV mini-series or children’s book.
  • Other things to know about me — I blog a lot about gender, the butch-femme spectrum and what it’s like to be called “sir” when I’m shopping at the grocery store. People tend to like these posts a lot. My work in progress — a memoir that I hope to sell for millions of dollars to a mainstream publishing giant — is about that kind of stuff, too. (Note: I will not sell the book if the publisher insists on calling it One Womyn’s Struggle or Some People Think This Womyn Is a Myn. Okay, maybe for a million bucks. The thought of a brand new Subaru Outback and a shopping spree in the young men’s department of our local department store is too tempting.  I am, after all, a butch and not a rock.)
  • My partner — I call her “W.” She is my muse. Not that I sketch her naked — that’s some other blog, sicko — but because she inspires me to be my best butch. She always laughs out loud at my blog posts (when appropriate, of course) and pretty much thinks I’m a super-talented writer. What’s not to love?
  • Sometimes I — Post gratuitous pictures of sexy women. Because I can.  Sorry, Heidi Klum.
  • Frozen pipe update — Pipes froze again. I thawed them out with a hairdryer. Which is weird because me butch. You hairdryer. Have you any idea how short my hair is? But thawing frozen pipes, even  with a hair styling accessory, is how you keep your lesbian card current.
  • Goals for 2014 — 1,000 blog followers, finish memoir manuscript, try to sell memoir manuscript. Other things, too, like self-improvement, blah, blah, blah, give to poor, blah, blah, blah, add more T-shirts to embarrassingly large collection.

In 2013 The Flannel Files was viewed 15,000 times. That’s about how many lesbians attend an average Melissa Etheridge concert. Which kinda makes me Melissa Etheridge. Well, not really. But I love me some Melissa. You should know that about me, too.

So, thanks for joining with millions of other Flannel Files followers. Ok, so, like, 600 hundred and some.  And enjoy the ride and the soft but rugged power of flannel.

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Enough about me.  What about you?  Tell me something, anything about yourself.  Surprise me.