Thursday, July 1, 2010

When I grow up, I want to be......

When I was younger, I wanted to be a writer.

Well, first I wanted to be a broadcast journalist, but then I was told I was not pretty enough to be on TV. So I thought I could be a journalist, but I was told I did not have a “voice” readers would connect with. Then, I was willing to settle for being a DJ but was told I had terrible taste in music, I was not at all funny and had no knowledge of pop culture. So I thought I could be a radio talk show host, but then I realized I did not have a lot of intelligent things to say….So I thought I could become a baseball announcer…but realized I needed to know a lot more about the game than I as a fan knew.

I was living in the Chicago area at the time and was a corporate facilitator…which is a fancy way of saying I taught people how to do their jobs. But I also designed and wrote the training material that was used…really was a great job. Shitty company bit a great job. Anyway, when I lost my job, I considered going back to school to become a teacher….figured I could mold the minds of America’s youth and maybe make a difference and an impact on someone’s life……but I was too scared to go back to school......afraid I would not be smart enough (for some reason, people think I’m smarter than I really am, I just play along with it), afraid I would not be able to afford it, afraid I'd fail.....

 In the meantime, I moved to Medford, had a job with Gillette for a spell and then landed my current job.

For the record, and in the spirit of full disclosure, my second cousin’s (or she could be a first cousin once removed) husband owns the company. I had been living in Massachusetts for 4 months and working at Gillette which was a temporary job with almost no chance of it becoming full time. I had interviewed within the company for full time jobs, specifically in their call center training department, but there was a hiring freeze and things were not looking good.

So I get this phone call from Steve and he says how’s the job hunt going. Tough I say. He tells me he has a position he's trying to fill, I’m not doing the interviews, I have a consultant doing them but if I get you one (an interview) want to come in? I have nothing to lose I say. One condition he says: I’m not telling anyone who you are and you can’t let on that you know me. If you’re going to get the job, you have to get it. Ok, I say, sounds fair.

So I go to interview (getting lost on way) and 5 minutes in, realize that I am so not qualified for the job…and I tell teh guy interviewing me there is no way I can do this job....but, he likes me, thinks I’m funny and that I can handle the job learning as I go along. I get the job and nine, almost ten years later, I am still here.

My job is mainly accounting, which is funny given that I was a Poly Sci/English Major and that I can’t play Cribbage for shit because I can’t add numbers in my head…..there’s a bunch of other stuff I do but my point is, I had no clue what I was doing for the first year I had the job (filing sales tax reports, registering to do jobs as a foreign corporation in other states, commercial lines of insurance, what the eff!) I learned on the job and for the most part, I do okay…..and it’s not a terrible job. Like all jobs it can be a bit trying at times but it could be worse…besides, it’s a stable job, pays the bills and I respect the guys I work for. But deep down inside, I still want to be a writer.

I’ll never write a novel, I don’t have the patience to see it through, develop all the characters, and the story loses steam within 3 pages. I always seem to be able to come up with a story on my head, but as soon as I try to put it down on paper, I get bored….so I thought I would try short stories. Again, I would concoct the story in my head but just could not seem to get it down on paper. I just did not have the wherewithal to see it through to the end.

So I think poetry! Poems are short….and by default do not require a lot of development because people love pondering over poems trying to decipher what they mean…somehow poems and art make people feel smarter than they really are…..…I could be a poet

Here’s my attempt at poetry



The last time we won
We beat on those drums
We held our heads high
We heaved great sighs

Then a trade was made
One that would never fade
From the memories of all
The old and the small

The Babe was gone
We sang a sad song
And for 86 years
We shed so many tears

1946, 1949, 1967, 1975, 1978……

I can’t even explain….
Had the Curse kicked in?
Are we paying for Frazee’s sin?
Would we ever win?


Could it be possible, could it be done?
Could the curse finally be hung?
One pitch too many, Pedro left in too long
Grady Little is moving on


We always thought we’d be immersed
In this terrible curse
You know the one of which I lament
The one that weighted us down like a block of cement

For eighty six years
We have shed so many tears
For eighty six years
We have lived with so many fears

Is there a curse?
Did I really buy that purse?
Will Red Sox Nation
Ever see total domination?

Will they tear down Fenway?
Will the Team move away?
Will we ever sign a player
Who will be the Evil Empire Slayer?

For eighty six years
We have shed so many tears
For eighty six years
We’ve said thousands of prayers

Please dear God, take pity on us!
Help us to reverse the curse!
And for the love of Jesus,
Give us just one winning season!

Year after year
Beer after beer
Our hearts would get broken
And we’d go home sulkin’

So I ask you Dear God for one little favor
Make this the year we have something to savor
For its been eighty six years
And I have shed so many tears

There was speculation all season
As we continued to look for a reason
As to why we should win
Would that really be such a sin?

And then there was that trade
To some it felt like a raid
Nomar was sent away
Some were sorry to say

It was looking pretty dark
If we pulled it off it would be a lark
Some threw the towel in
While others still thought we could win

Believe! Have Faith!
Curt Schilling is our ace!
Variteck is a rock
Not just some big dumb jock!

These two men led the team
Is this all really a dream?

We were three games down
Red Sox Nation was wearing frowns
But then the tables turned
And we started to yearn

We didn’t want the season to end
And the Idiots were turning the bend
They played smart
And with their hearts

And the Evil Empire crumbled
For once, we didn’t bumble!!!!
We took back three
And then made it four

Could this be the year?
Do we even dare?

We took Game One
Our boys got it done
We took Game Two
Do the Cards have the flu?

And then we went West
To prove we were the best
Game Three was ours
We all hit the bars

Game Four, Game Four
We are at the door
We could break the Curse!
Oh, yea, I returned the purse

And so we watched………..
We waited for it to get botched
But Lowe pitched the game of his life
Oh how I wish I were his wife

And there we were at the bottom of the ninth…….

Three strikes to go and we were all gonna blow….
Three, then two, then one left to go………..
It was an easy hit….
I can’t even sit

He threw it to first


For eighty six years
We have shed so many tears
For eighty six years
We have lived with so many fears

But with that final swing
With that little ding
It all ended………

For so long we’ve been cheated
Things got pretty heated
We loved the Sox
And then we hated them like Lox

But deep down inside….

We always BELIEVED
We always HAD FAITH

And so finally after many years
After so many tears,
Red Sox Nation
Has seen total domination

2005, Need I say more
2006, show us the door


Terry O Terry
Why are you so merry?
We’re down 3-1
Unk is looking for his gun

Gagne oh Gagne
Why not just hang me?
You lost the game
Now it’s not the same

Across the Nation
Hearts are breaking
Kids are crying
Fans are sighing

Down 3-1
An improbable run?
Hope springs eternal
Ted Williams was almost immortal

Wait 'til next year
Is being spoken so clear
And all I want is a win
Is that such a sin?

We broke the Curse
It’s been reversed
Why fret and frown?
We’re only two games down

We’ve done it before
Won all four
Then Captured the Pennant
With Varitek as the Lieutenant

There could be hope
For this band of dopes
We could reign supreme
This is my dream

My knuckles are white
My chest is tight
But I’ll tune in
Please let the Sox win

It’s time for Game Five
I’m getting a hive
Beckett’s old flame will sing
He never gave her that ring

Youk stepped up to the plate
All I ask is that this night be great
He swung his bat
And gave that ball a tap

Up by a run
I can almost see the sun…
Never mind, its 1-1
What happened next is a blur

I started to slur
Manny hit it hard
But moved like lard

Ortiz made it all the way home
Manny ran like a gnome
He made it to first
I almost burst

Run you bum! Run!
Before I get my gun
390 feet
Can I smell defeat?

But Beckett was a rock
He stepped back and took stock
He was in control
He was ready to roll

It happened in the 8th
Why do they make me wait?
We scored run after run
We made sure we’d won

Brought out Crazy John
He’s really gentle as a fawn
He closed the game up
I raised my cup

We got a game back.
But do not relax!
Two more to go
Let’s take it nice and slow……

Games six and seven
Am I in heaven?
Did we really win?
Was I drinking gin?

The beer is flowing
Papelbon is glowing
The rookies rocked
And I thought of Schilling’s red sock

Game six went so fast
I almost didn’t last
I really don’t remember it all
All I know is we didn’t stall

And then it was time for the final game
I prayed we wouldn’t be lame
We started out strong
Thought it wouldn’t be long…..

But the Indians came within a run
Once again, Unk was looking for his gun
But then it all turned
Please don’t let us get burned

Skinner O Skinner
You helped make us the winner
Kenny was running,
He was really gunning

But you made him stop
And now I think your tops
And Pedroia may be small
But today, he’s walking tall

My jaw is up off the floor
I can’t stand it anymore
My heart is on the mend
Can’t believe we rounded the bend

So now it’s the Rocks
Battling the Sox
Who thought we’d be here
After only a few short years

They’re going for another ring
This would make me sing
I’m holding my breath and saying a prayer
Please o please let this be the year


Ok, see the problem here? First of all, I started it in 2004…then did not touch it until 2007….then I crapped out before the series even started (we won by the way)….I can’t even get through a poem and who are we kidding, I’m copying Dr Seuss!

So I thought maybe I could do children’s’ books, especially now that I have one of my own (a child, not a children’s book) but again, I get to the climax of the story and then it’s over…..hmm, commitment issues and fear on intimacy is the trend I’m seeing here…..Poor Sean.

So then I thought maybe I could write one of those books that just like a stream of consciousness…..not quite a memoir, more of an essayist… I started keeping a journal. Not like “Dear Diary, today I got my period and I have a crush on my English Lit professor” (though I did have a crush on the professor who taught my mythology class, oh and my Geology TA, total crush on him)

One time I read this book called the Artist Way, (I thought I had some creative side or being to get in touch with….turns out I don’t) and in this book, the author suggested that every morning, you sit down and write at least three pages……..Did not matter what you wrote about, just write three page….so that was what I did.

Sometimes it was a list of things I had to do that day or books I wanted to read or groceries I needed. Sometimes, it was a rehash of the conversation I had the night before with my mother or a sister or my brother. Sometimes, it was a rant about work or a bitch about the asshole who cut me off the night before on my way home…which would morph into a narrative about how people are not as nice as they used to be and what’s wrong with the world…..sometimes, it was about an old friend that I had lost touch with or someone I grew up with and I would wonder what s/he was up to, what they had become, were they married? Kids? In jail?

I did morning pages for a number of years……I even took a writing class thinking that I could totally pull off being an essayist….until I heard what other people were writing and realized I was not as smart, not as funny, had not nearly enough life experience nor had I traveled enough to compete with what they were producing….

When we had Lucy, I wanted to do a blog under the pretense of keeping friends and family that did not live near us in the know….truthfully I knew nobody would read the blog (at least none of my lot) I just figured it would be a way to get me writing again…...turns out it just made me realize I barely have enough time to get the laundry done! I’d rather play with Lucy chasing her around the yard collecting pine cones and eating rocks or emptying her toy box just because we can rather than sitting down and trying to be witty and charming on paper. Plus, I’m long winded…no one wants to read a five page blog…and I’m not quick or witty enough to say it in five lines…..which is why I’m not a tweeter or twitter or tooter.

Maybe I still want to be a writer...I don't know....
But here's my other problem with writing, I never know how to end......................

Maria, the Mum

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