Seeking creativity / April 2019

I know that moments when I feel most inspired to write are after I read someone’s blog.


Gypsy says hi.

Not necessarily someone who’s famous or renowned in the writing world or even good at blogging (though they usually are!), but it’s enough for me that they sat down to write about their day or their life or their new puppy, and I’m nosy. Not in like, a gossip-y way — most of the time — but I just like to know what the people I even vaguely know are up to.

I think this blog was created for a journalism class in college. My first post is from October 2014, my last one from October 2017. I don’t keep a journal, and I rarely update my blog, so I don’t even know what I’m up to half the time. What was I doing in April of 2018? Who knows. I don’t. I want to change that and blog more, at least a little bit.

First, some life updates:

BL and I moved to Annapolis in November. I still love Ocean City, and I still work there. I’m torn between two cities, because I love Annapolis and I also love the Eastern Shore, but I guess I’m just a city gal now (compared to the boondocks of rural Delaware we were living in for a year-and-a-half previously).


Assateague Island this winter.

Part of the reason I never ever write for myself is because I’m always so busy writing for work and squeezing out every ounce of creativity that might be in my soulless, corporate body. (It’s ‘soulless’ and ‘corporate’ now because I recently started doing this boutique exercise class and, while it makes me feel really good, the idea of sweatin’ it out in a tiny carpeted room in my hometown for an absurd amount of money still makes me feel… Weird.)

I love getting to talk to people and write for a living, among a few other things that I do. But blogging about people, places and things for work, and sometimes for other peoples’ work, and sometimes even for the Ocean City Film Fest blog, leaves little time for writing about anything else. I’m also writing a book, btw. It’s called “Ocean City Oddities” for The History Press, and it’s about exactly what it sounds like, and I never talk about it because I promised I wouldn’t until the thing is done. So there’s that.

Anyways, Annapolis! It’s so strange how I grew up 15 minutes away from where I live now, but I’m still finding new places to explore every day. This is the part where I ask the audience a question: Where should I explore next? We spend ample time downtown, but I’m looking to be out and about everywhere this spring after a very long winter of hibernation.


Doing much work, getting lots done on the beach.

This very moment in time is probably the most excited I’ve ever been for spring. My nails are pastel purple and I have two new candles from Bath & Body Works and a little flag is up in my front terrace that says “It’s Spring Time!”. I think it’s because I’m getting married in June and then going on a trip to San Diego/The Grand Canyon, just having things to look forward to is nice. I’ll remain excited until my allergies kick in.

The 3rd annual Ocean City Film Festival went off without a hitch. Just kidding! There were many hitches, but we worked through them all and it truly was a successful year for the festival and our fantastic team. Of course, when you’re planning a weekend-long event with expected attendance of 1,000+, stress builds up a little. I miss all the excitement — sometimes I’m not sure what to do with myself now that it’s over — BUT the big event being over until next March is why I’m able to even take the time to write right now. We still do our monthly $5 Film Nights, but those aren’t such an ordeal. BL and I volunteered for a night at the Annapolis Film Fest last weekend, and that was also fun. And now it feels like we’re on spring break!


Me ‘n BL, just a few weekends ago.

Now, some more rambling:

The film fest is over, Annapolis is lovely, my apartment smells like flowers, I’m planning a small wedding, but there’s also a giant hole in my kitchen ceiling. Our upstairs neighbor flooded his kitchen and, in turn, flooded ours and ruined the ceiling. He didn’t even tell maintenance about it, we just came home to a flooded apartment. Upstairs neighbor, if you’re reading this right now, you’ve really minorly inconvenienced me, and you have terrible taste in music.

Nothing will ever be perfect or even close to it, which is something I’ve been trying to tell myself whenever my perfectionist neuroses sets in. That’s been happening a lot lately. I can give way more examples, from small – my tires need realignment, I don’t have HBO so I have to BUY The Sopranos instead of stream it, sometimes it sounds like the upstairs neighbor also has pet squirrels running around up there and I’m afraid one of them might fall straight through our new ceiling hole… To, not large exactly, but more abstract – for example, I don’t feel as creative as I did when I was in… College? High school? I don’t know. I could be making that up entirely.

I can only hope that when I go to California, I’ll stumble upon a yogic hippie retreat and have an epiphany a la Don Draper and the 1970 Coca Cola ad. I finished Man Men and I already miss it.


How I’m tryna be.

The purpose of this blog post was to throw something out into the world and hope it’ll inspire someone else to write something for themselves, because that’s what always works for me. I hope to write one thing a month that’s innocuous enough to post online, right here. It won’t necessarily be about me, because I don’t know who’d want to read that (if anyone’s lasted long enough to get to this paragraph, I’m shocked!), but it’ll be about… Something.

Final thoughts: When I was in fifth grade, my teacher told me my writing had a “strong voice.” I got older, thought my ‘voice’ was corny, and as an adult have been going out of my way to sound as neutral and detached as I can. Now I realize that my mark online is kind of devoid of any and all personality, which is another reason for blogging here again – it’s my time to be as corny as I can from the comfort of my own website! I’m even using exclamation points!!! Thank you and goodnight.

Now, a playlist.


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