reading is awesome. pass it on.

i probably should have put the picture at the end of this post to build suspence, but guess what book i was given for World Book Night?

yes, omg, you're right! The Book Thief!

i haven't actually read this book (which was partly the reason i chose it) but judging by friend's reviews and the silver medallion on the front cover, it's terrific.

now i have to figure out who i'm giving the books to.

the goal of the project is to spread the love of reading. so i.e. give the books to people who normally wouldn't be reading them. i chose a YA book not only because i write YA, but i wanted to inflict reading on teens. mwahahaha. i have a friend from my dance class who teaches middle school in Brooklyn. i have a feeling her classroom is going to be the recipient. (and she has no idea...mwahahahah). but i'm also going to keep one book back.

want to start a The Book Thief  reading chain with me? since half of the joy of reading comes from sharing a terrific book, i'm going to pass along one copy. we can mark our names in it, then share it with a friend. the only prerequisite is that you must pass it on. and maybe send me a picture of the book with the names marked in it. maybe when the list gets really long, we'll send a picture back to World Book Night. idk. we'll figure out the details when i actually get the books (april 1st).

but in the meantime, i'm taking names. who wants to read it after me?

pick another day

a word with whomever decides that all Major American Television events are held on Sundays, please.

pick. another. day.

seriously! you know what night is good to watch the Superbowl, the Grammies, the Oscars, the one that's about theatre -- Tuesdays. it's practically the same as Sundays. who goes out on Tuesdays? so since everyone's hunkered in anyway, why not show them some excellent tv. otherwise, Tuesday gets lost in the rest of the week. my vote is that Tuesday becomes the new Sunday for television events. maybe i'll even start a "let's save Tuesdays from being unremarkable" campaign.

that way, when you work on Sundays, in a business that heavily relies on other people being present in order to make money, your bank account doesn't suffer from mid-January right through the end of February, with one constant Television Event after another.

there. i said my peace. (or is it piece?).

last night could have been worse. i mean, it wasn't Super Bowl Sunday bad the way it was this year when that New York team played that other team. (no, i'm not being anti-anybody, i just honestly can't remember who played. wiz at sports trivia? no. other trivia, yes!).

there is one thing that saves Sundays. dance class! which totally makes up for knowing i'm going to be bored off my toes for the rest of the night. either way, happy Monday everyone!

p.s. the weird part in the middle is 8 counts of freestyle.

new beginnings

a pretty damn cool girl i work with took the above photo of her kitty. apparently, said kitten has gotten a little obsessed with the record player. i could look at this photo for hours.

i'm starting to research a new project. i love this part of the writing process. it takes the skeleton of your newbie idea and gives it flesh. furthermore, it requires picking the brain of some really interesting people.

when i researched my last book, i went to strangers for help. for my new novel, i don't have to look much further than my friends list on FB. it's awesome. and while yes, this has more to do with the topic (see how mysterious i'm being about it), it pretty fun to see how professional and mature people of my age set are. who knew i'd ever know someone that's a new media lawyer?

now if only i knew someone who worked in a psych hospital...dun dun dun...

the weekend away

the funny thing about blogging, when you do it the way i do - made up of day-in-the-life vingets - is that your material is your life, and when things go horribly wrong in your life, you're forced to share something that you normally would have kept to yourself.

i get, now, why lots of writers, just blog about writing or books they read.

lately, (hello nyc lesson #340,023) i've discovered that i don't have a lot of filters in place. i share way more than other people do, never seeing what the harm is. not until later when i feel overly exposed and creeped out, i realize the harm was to myself.

i'm babbling. but i don't want to write this post. there is no good way to talk about this weekend. my writer's retreat getaway was truly awful and also marvelous. it deserves two blogs, but i don't want to put off one topic or extend the other. so as they were in life, messily overlapping, they will be here too.


the marvelous will come first, because otherwise the awful part wipes it all away.


being in someplace beautiful always makes me wonder why i've ever chosen to live in nyc. and while my answer has to do with trees grow and change slowly, seasonally, while the city is in constant movement, the truth is that i haven't found my country yet. so for now, it's nyc. but i will always question my location, location, location, when i'm encountered with views like this:

at home, my routine is to wake up, put on coffee and immediately get to writing. usually by noon, i feel squirly, needing to see sunshine. by three, i need to get out of the apartment. maybe it has something to do with seeing concrete when i look out my windows or maybe it has something to do with the solidarity of my environment, but with other writers around, keeping to the exact same schedule, i felt happy, at peace and uber-productive. i never once felt there was something else i ought to be doing (the way i constantly feel in nyc). and writing didn't feel frivolous, it felt like the most important work i could possibly be doing.

at one point, Gina looked up as we sat in silence, clacking away, and said, "I'm so happy right now!" it was a mutual feeling. maybe it looks nerdy and strange to anyone else, but to a writer? this right here is heaven:

okay, maybe it did get a little nerdy at night...

that's right, nothing spells good times like a fire, marshmallows and editing.

in between all the writing, and thinking about my book, and talking about my books with the girls, we did two of my other favorite things. (okay, i have many favorite things, but we'll say the following two are top five). first, whenever we felt fried we'd take a long exploratory walk.

fyi the Poconos are beautiful and a wee bit strange. first, the street names are written on utility poles and would win top prize in an onomatopoeia contest.

meanwhile, Pocono residents all have a weird bear fetish.

they are everywhere. hiding behind rocks...

climbing trees...

supporting the Buffalo Bills...

and in general just taking up a lot of space....

fyi next time you're curious -
who actually buys those chainsaw sculptures?
you'll know, it's this guy.

but besides the bears and super odd lenghty addresses, there is beauty everywhere. and unlike (or just like) nyc you don't have to look very hard to find it...

the funny thing about taking adventure walks with a bunch of other bloggers is that when you get to your destination, feelings of awe and triumph are quickly imposed upon by the need to take the perfect blog post picture...

and the funny thing about taking adventure walks with YA and Middlegrade writers is that when you find a tiny door on the back of your cabin you all go: OOOOOHHHH! and think of story ideas...

my second favorite thing about retreating with other writers is that when feeling squirrely or needing a break? we snacked. and what i actually mean to say is, WE SNACKED.

yes, that is the big tub o hummus. booyah!

big breakfasts were followed by bowls of chips were followed by grapes and cookies were followed by cheese were followed by dinner were followed by more chips and cookies. for me?

heaven. heaven in a small white bowl with an ever changing filling.

i couldn't ask for a more perfect weekend. since it wasn't at all expensie, we've agreed to do it more frequently. i'm leaving here with 90 newly written pages, a more passionate dedication to both of my new book ideas (why not write two books at the same time?), and a wonderment that i don't always live in a place that is sunny, beautiful and conducive to a calm, happy, productive corrie.

quite honestly, and maybe this is again too much information, but I'm not looking forward to going home.

the awful has to do with my Bruno. the very first night i was away, he bit my sister. i didn't know about it until the second day after he went after her again and she finally called me in tears. my worst fear came true. i haven't seen the pictures my sis took of her arm. she tells me she's fine, but shaken and sore.

two and a half hours away in the Poconos, after considering taking a bus back home to be the one to walk into my apartment and calm him down, i called the shelter that i adopted him from instead. an hour later, they went to my apartment and took Bruno away.


i left him too soon. and yes, he might have just done this to me or someone else down the line. yes, what's the point of having a dog that's too violent to leave comfortably with someone else. yes, this all could have ended a lot worse. but i knew, knew that it was too soon to leave him with someone else. so i essentially let everyone involved down. because i knew the disturbance in his very new, yes stable, but still very new life, was more than his very tempermental personality could take.


so while i was in the middle of a fabulous weekend retreat, my sister got hurt and my doggie was dragged out of my house and shipped back to his shelter.

i hope he's okay. tho i feel oddly guilty calling the shelter to find out. and me? no filter me? i feel foolish, guilty, and angry at the world.

jettin'

what do you do when you adopt a new doggie and he's still settling in? clearly, you go out of town for a few days. or at least, that's what i'm doing.

the previously schedule writer's retreat to the Poconos that my writing friends and i organized is upon us. my sister (who's watching Bruno) is insisting that i go. it's a good thing, actually. my productivity has dropped to zero, since i've had the boy. so i'm hoping that this weekend will reinvigorate my interest in either or both of my new projects and fling me into a more regular writing schedule upon my return.

regardless of how well that goes, it will be a weekend of great company and mucho time spent outdoors. 

so happy weekend everyone!

thanks for all the Bruno support of late. it means alot to me.

learning to be alpha dog

this morning, as i was standing on my couch while my dog growled and bared his teeth at me because i'd come to close to his bone (?) because he was still pissed about the signs of food guarding he displayed a few minutes before (?) i had this thought: i am not a very good alpha dog.

this was further displayed as i threw treats at my dog to get him to back away so i could get off the couch.

sigh.

in my human interactions i could use a little help with being alpha as well. the other night, someone kept asking me, corrie what do you want? and my first thought was, well, whatever you do is fine with me. weird (or is it sad) as it sounds it's only occurred to me lately, that what i want holds equal importance as what anyone else wants. now, i'm not a total mush. i can be decisive. but my most common reaction when asked what i'd like to have for dinner, see at the movies, where i'd like to go on vacation is: whatever. you pick. it's fine with me.

perhaps it's good that i unknowningly adopted a very sweet dog with massive food aggression issues. maybe i've needed training in how to be more alpha for awhile.

and with that silver lining in place, i shall now email a dog trainer.

chow. i mean, ciao.

settling in

i refuse to be one of those new (adopted a dog) mommies, who only talks about, and shows pictures of, her new baby.

first of all, i have many other things to talk about. like...work. which has been busy. chocolate, which i've been eating a lot of. dance class, which i don't have video for. and this funny thing Bruno did last night.

every time i turned off my light to go to sleep, my previously snoring dog:

we're looking at the doggie here.
don't you be minding those shoes under the bed.

suddenly started to wander around in the dark. i'd turn my light back on. he'd lie back down and go back to sleep. the third time this happened, he walked through the apartment - barking (it was the first time i've heard him bark -- growl no, bark yes.). when he got to the front door, he continued to bark like there was a lurking intruder on the other side. um, creepy. and did i mention it was 2 a.m.?

shushing him by throwing biscuits on the floor, i turned on the light above the kitchen sink and we went back to bed. instead of curling up in his bed as usual, he planted himself right in my bedroom doorway as if saying: hey you, spooky-nothing-that-corrie-can-hear noise out there, you're gonna have to get through me if you want to get to my girl.

oh, and i bite.

aggression issues, who me?

maybe it was my insomnia he scared away. knock on wood, since i've had Bruno, i haven't once woken up at 3 or 4 in the morning. granted, i suddenly do wake up at 8:30 or 9 a.m. for a walk, but it feels like a fair trade off.

anyway, my point was, i'm still the same interesting and productive person as ever. i absolutely don't run home from work every night to be with my boy. nor tell lots of dog stories or flash my cell phone around and make people look at every picture i've taken. nope. same corrie. only, my apartment comes with a better view now.

day 2

oh dear.

oh dear. oh dear.

well. i adopted a chowchow. and he's adorable. a gentleman. who rode home in the car like a champ.

it was immediately to the groomers for him, as he smelled not quite pleasant and had some serious matted fur going on. in the reception area, he was again, quite the gentleman. on the grooming table, he endured the brushing with the same calm.

i left to buy dog food and a bed. when i returned, he was muzzled.

"he's a bit bossy," the groomer said. "he's not biting me, but he's warning me."

she said she thought the brushing wasn't going to do the trick, that we should just shave him. he'd be more comfortable and his hair could grow back un-matted, plus if we washed him as is, there'd be no way to get a brush through it. and he couldn't just stay filthy. i reluctantly agreed.

whoa.

the next hour and a half where one of the scariest things i've ever witnessed. Bruno hated it. hated it. and when it was finally all done, and the groomer took off his muzzle, she too soon went to pet him and he bit her. cue the blood. the groomer running into the back room, yelling, "ow! ow!" cue me horrified. near tears.

what. had. i. done.

yes, there's a big grey box in this pic, but today i'm too exhausted to care.

the groomer was okay. she still insisted on giving him a bath. which he didn't like anymore than the shaving. long story short, i got him home and when he was near his toy and i was five feet away showing him his bed, he growled at me. i spoke calmly to him and ignored the behavior.

my sister came over. we sat with him, loving him for a few hours. he was calm and sweet and went between both of us, soaking in the affection. then before i went to sleep last night, i was bending down petting him and he growled at me again.

Bruno's first time out front in the daylight, he ate all my plants.

i don't really know what to do. i mean, i do. i'm going to give it a few days. i called the shelter and they said, "ooh, that's not good. we could see if he was growling at other people, but he shouldn't be growling at you. maybe you should bring him back." everyone, EVERYONE, has said, welcome to owning a chow. today on our walk, he growled at a couple of kids that were (aways away) running towards us on the street.

doesn't sound good, right?

needless to say, this wasn't quite the homecoming i was expecting for my little senior Bruno. yes, he woke up this morning and begged for and soaked in lots of loving. and now he's passed out on my living room floor, tuckered out from a 30 minute walk. but the calm in his eyes that seemed so wonderful and regal when i met him the first two times, now is quite frankly, disconcerting. i don't want to be afraid of my dog. i don't want to be afraid of having my dog around other people.

i guess maybe i'm still not sure what to do.

and all i can think is: ta-dah. corrie got a doggie.

year of the dog part 2

yesterday when i called the shelter, the woman at the desk told me i was mistaken about Bruno. he wasn't 7 or 8 years old. he was closer to 11.

11?! I repeated, heart sinking.

11. she confirmed it. in 2002 he had a microchip put in him. an 11-year-old dog? i had qualms about adopting a 7 or 8-year-old dog. there's no way i could do it.

"take the week to think about it, honey." the woman at the shelter said.

i went to visit him instead.

Bruno came out of the kennel smilling and wagging his tail. he does this thing where he puts himself right over your lap so that you can dig your fingers into his mane and give him a good rubbing, then he swivels, and sits down right next to you.

after sitting with me for a minute he wandered to the front door, clearly looking to go out. when i called him, he came trotting over, took some petting, then went back to the door. outside. now please. the kennel guy said i could take him around the block. i opened the door while the kennel guy proceeded to talk to me. the whole world waiting for him, Bruno patiently stood next to me.

though he's capable of taking two hour long walks, Bruno's back legs are definitely a little stiff. he'll need to eat glucosamine on his food for the rest of his life. he has a teeny cough. apparently his teeth are black (though otherwise in fine shape, they just need a cleaning) and he has a few fatty lumps on his chest.

last night i bought a hair brush and a toothbrush. neither is for me.

i did it. i adopted him. i adopted an 11 year-old-dog, because he is perfect for me. the whole time i was with him, i was smiling.

tomorrow, Bruno comes home. and heck yes, you'd better believe he's getting groomed first.

year of the dog

i'm not gonna lie. i'm freaking out right now.

i might adopt a doggy today.

this guy:

my sis and i volunteered at a shelter in williamsburg on friday. when they led this boy out to be walked something in me jumped -- literally, i cut the line to get him.

his name is currently Herbert. i'd name him Brunello. Bruno for short. at one hundred pounds, he's a mellow gentleman. he's also about eight-years-old (since he was abandoned at the shelter they don't know for sure).

when it comes to change, i'm not the best. and this is a BIG furry (senior) change. i was pretty confident with the decision all this weekend. but today is go day. i need to make some phone calls. (see if he's still available). i'd need to buy a lot of things. then i'd need to come home to my cute (read: small) one bedroom with a big, smelly, doggy.

at the moment, my life in nyc has little obligation. i can go and do as i please. stay out as long as i like. i pay my rent, a few bills, and that's about it. not many extra incurred expenses. on one hand this sounds terrific. on the other, reading it back, kind of sad.

what do i have to lose, right? a little freedom? ease of travelling? a little extra saved cash? a little cleanliness. (no question mark about that one). and the luxury of rolling over again and again in the morning without having to walk anybody. erm, those all seem pretty important.

quick and to gain? a black nose at the side of my bed waking me up in the morning. someone to chill next to me while i write. a waggy tail when i come home. a front steps sitting companion.

it's happiness versus convenience and freedom. but it's also a move against stagnating. a move against not making a life changing decision because i'm afraid of changes in life. as we analyzed to death a totally different subject yesterday, my good friend at work said it best: whoa. Corrie, you think too much.

which is why, sometimes regardless of the pro's and con's list, the healthiest thing for me is to act. to go with the internal jump. and in this case, to get my Bruno.



world book night

so i won free books!

erm, except they're not mine to keep. they're meant to be given to as many people as i can. or, more correctly, to twenty people. and as much as i'd like to make this a contest and give some to you, my blogging co-horts, i'm supposed to give them to people in my community who aren't big readers.

what the heck am i talking about?

WORLD BOOK NIGHT.

"The goal is to give books to new readers, to encourage reading, to share your passion for a great book. The entire publishing, bookstore, library, author, printing, and paper community is behind this effort with donated services and time."

and guess what? they need more volunteers. check out their website. some of my favorite books ever are available for distribution. A Prayer for Owen Meany. Bel Canto. The Stand. The Poisonwood Bible (alright this isn't my favorite book ever, but it was really good). it sounds like if you make an even slightly passionate plea about wanting to participate, you'll get books.

so participate! the submission date has been pushed to February 6. the whole process only takes five minutes. you sign up for three choices. i have no idea which book i'm getting (apparently, The Hunger Games sold out, so no go). but if you participate in World Book Night and i participate in World Book Night maybe there can be a little... psst...i'll trade you a The Book Thief for a Ender's Game.

wait. what? only the lowliest of the low would ask to trade books that are intended for charity. but it's fine if i read it real quick, and then give it to a non-reader. right? at least that way we know the book gets opened. (oops, was that a mean comment?) i'd send it on. i swear.

mwa-ha-ha-ha. erm. so anyway...happy friday! now go give away some books.

taking a stand

knock on wood, it's not often in nyc that i feel threatened or unsafe. for the most part everyone seems pretty normal and stable. those that don't are usually easy to steer clear of.

not so, for one of my good friends last night. now, rest assured, he made it out of the situation safely. but he and his girlfriend got accosted on the train by someone clearly on something and even more clearly looking for a fight. imagine your worst nightmare of catching a cracked-out someone's eye, having them say, "what're you looking at" and then advancing and proceeding to get in your face for the next five minutes whilst punching the subway door right above where your girlfriend is sitting, and you'll be pretty close to the exact situation that my friend found himself in.

today he is left with the feeling that he didn't act enough. but there is such a fine line between being brave and being smart. and, i think, correctly, he opted for smart and a. tried to ignore the situation, then b. got up and moved subway cars as soon as the train pulled into a station.

the whole time whilst he was telling me the story, all i could say was, didn't someone on the train do something? for it was a crowded subway car. there were plenty of people around, all watching while studiously ignoring the situation. because what is worse than witnessing someone acting like that to someone else? saying something to that person and having them spin and place their creepy/scary/aggressive/dangerous focus on you.

the confrontation lasted for about five minutes, at which point my friend said, "sir, i don't want to fight you." to which the man replied, "i wouldn't want to fight me either." and then it happened. a rather large man a few seats down stood up. that's all. he just stood up. as in, maybe i can't stop the first punch. but i'm there for you seconds later.

it made the crazy back off a little. then, luckily, the train pulled into the station, my friends got off, went onto the next car (only to be followed by the stalker), quickly stepped off again and got back on their original subway car. the train then sat stalled in the station for the next few minutes. (apparently, this was because someone else in the car went to tell the conductor what was happening).

the image of the man standing up has stayed with me. it brought tears to my eyes actually. my friend and i decided there should be a signal that we as a human collective can give in those situations. a universal sign or word (his idea was saying "support") that simply means: please, everyone stand up. it's not asking you to step in. it's very simply, very publicly saying what i'm sure all of those people on the train were feeling and thinking, but were too afraid to be the only one to say:

we are here for you.

thankfully for my friend, one man had the guts to do it yesterday. i'm not sure there's much i'd be able to do in a similar situation. blondie flaka comes to a strangers aid? or honestly if i'd risk my safety to protect a strangers.

but i like to think i'd stand up, and hope i never need to.