confession tuesday

It's Tuesday. It's time. It's all the truth and nothing more. Keep in mind I was the lone Methodist kid at Catholic summer camp who always did the sign of the cross backwards before she took communion. A double whammy--a methodist taking Catholic communion and a backward cross. If anyone had really been paying attention, they would've shipped me back to First United so fast my head would've spun (another religious no-no, at least in the movies...)

Here's what I confess to this week...

1. I just cajoled my sweet, sweet two-year-old off my lap so I could write. Off. My. Lap. And she is so sweet. So cute. Well, why not start confession with the kid guilt. Why not.

2. Not so much a confession as a curiosity. I have had some good publishing news in the past month or so and have kept it to myself. No book or anything, but good news as in, for instance, yesterday I received a Yes! letter! One of my poems is going to be in Thema, Sept. 08. And, even more cool, I got a $10 check! Made out to me! Aside from winning $250 in a Poet magazine contest in undergrad, I've never earned any money from my poetry!

3. I have a love hate relationship with money. Why, once, I was a featured reader in a local writer's guild series and I never collected my $50. I still have $1000 beans coming from a stint teaching poetry through arts & ed. And there are also the wayward parents of art students who haven't paid me over the years. I suppose I could chalk it up to being nice. More likely, it's finacially unsavvy. Check for me on the nearest corner in a cardboard box about 60 or 70 years from now. I'll be the old poet lady with no retirement fund, still wearing her Old Navy jeans and Gap sweater from 2008.

4. I am a thinker, not a do-er. I am a self-help failure. I have been reading Julia Cameron. She always, always reminds us to do morning pages. I always, always forget. I forget to breathe. Well, deep & cleansing. The day-to-day breathe to live I've got down pretty well. Although, once in a while I forget that, too. I have books on prayer. I forget to do that. Books on meditation. Can't manage that. I desperately want to be calm and centered, but I keep forgetting that I want it. So, I fumble along. The flaky art teacher. Funny, a lot of the parents who bring their kids to my art studio think I am easy-going. And I am, really. I just want more. More calm. More peace. I want to exude Buddha. Buddha stream from my pores.

5. Here's a non-sequitor--Every time I eat, my stomach hurts.

6. Re: #4, everytime I tell someone I will pray for them, I feel like a phony. Not that I don't pray, just that I feel like my prayers are weak. I sometimes wonder, when the pastor talks about God loving us all and wanting the best for us, if he means me, too.

7. So far, I have had a lot of religion themed confessions. Maybe I should print all of these confessions, start a folder (I am a compulsive printer/make a folder kind of girl)and do some writing. Well, as I am a self-proclaimed thinker, we shall see how far I get.

8. I need a life coach.