Diane Mierzwik

Author and Educator

Week 52.142857142

Filed under: Uncategorized — Diane Mierzwik at 9:02 am on Saturday, July 25, 2009
 
July 26, 2009
 
Some of the earliest writing advice I ever received was this – if you are going to write unflattering things about a person, make sure you mention that he has a small penis.
 
And if the person is a female? No answer, because who would think to say unflattering things about a fellow woman warrior against the patriarchal society?
 
Apparently I would.
 
My most recent book was supposed to be about how silly I am in the world. I told lots of unflattering things about myself. I am bad with securing money in the household, see week 8. Although there is money found easily at my house, I might also mention my house is surrounded by big dogs that bite.
 
I am often a pain in the … see week 4. I freely hand out 800 mg of ibuprofen at the house.
 
I also have a need to be right about the most ridiculous things, see week 47. Luckily with the internet, I can usually prove my point quickly … or not.
 
I am vain, seek week 3, week 13 and week 22. But I am also cheap, see week 39, so I’m not doing much about it.
 
I’m a party-pooper and sitck-in-the-mud, see week 23. Every party needs one, at least that’s my mantra when someone points out my proclivity for early bedtimes and quiet, peaceful places.
 
I pass people in traffic who are patiently waitng their turn, see week 7. I also got a ticket recently so rest assured all of you sitting patiently for your trun to merge, there is traffic karma.
 
And I wrote a whole book about myself, so obviously I’m rather self-absorbed. So self-absorbed in fact, that when I used people in my life to tell my stories, I never considered that they might consider the portrayal of them as anything but flattering. At the very least, I figured the stories showed they were better people than me.
 
Some other writing advice I’ve heard is that everyone has a right to tell his or her story and that is what writing a memoir is about. But I chose to write about myself and my foibles because that happens to be what I’m an expert on – write what you know, don’t you know.
 
So what to do when you mention a friend who doesn’t keep a a clean house, or a boss who had a hysterectomy? Apparently beg forgiveness because writing about a major surgery to remove female organs, I have learned, does not work like mentioning a man’s small penis.
 
This week I will keep the people I love and admire out of my writing, unless they play a  major role in a very funny story…oh-oh!

My Car and I

Filed under: Uncategorized — Diane Mierzwik at 3:32 pm on Sunday, July 19, 2009
July 19, 2009
 
My husband has been trying to talk me into a new car. It seems my Honda Civic does not live up to his standards for me.
“You deserve a new car,” he tells me. 
“My Civic is practical,” I respond and so we go around and around. 
But this week, when he offered to wash the Civic and sprayed cold water onto a hot windshield – well, I had to wonder if it wasn’t some sort of sabotage. My front windshield now has a question mark shaped crack in the middle of it.
I spent the week trying to be all zen about it. What is that question mark trying to tell me? 
I spent the week trying to all christian about it. How is that question mark a gift from above? 
I spent the week trying to be all practical about it. I wonder how long before I get pulled over, get a fix it ticket and have to pay to have the windshield replaced. How much is that going to cost me?
Then my thoughts took a funny turn. I noticed how my car is beginning to reflect who I am.
The side doors are a bit dimpled, much like my legs, along the sides only, really.
There’s a big scratch on the rear bumper from when I ran into a wall. It draws unnecessary attention to the hind quarters of the car. I try to avoid this, but I always seem to sit in something.
There’s this really cool flame/wave design along the front, much like my wrinkled chin.
Now a cracked windshield. Well, I’ve been wearing contacts for a long time, and now my optometrist is telling me I also need reading glasses.
So I began to wonder … if I get a new car, will I improve?
A new car costs money. So will all the improvements I need.
Is it worth it? 
Then I stopped to fill my reliable Civic up at the gas station and smiled. With mileage like that, I’d be crazy to turn in my lovely, aging car. 
This morning when my husband suggested I needed a new car, I asked him if when I got more scratched and cracked and dimpled, he was going to turn me in.
He paused for a bit too long and is still in trouble. 
 
This week, I will appreciate the true value of things and people: reliability and a shared history.

Shine A Light On It: A Menopause Maxim

Filed under: Uncategorized — Diane Mierzwik at 4:52 pm on Sunday, July 12, 2009
 
by Lynette Sheppard
author of “The Big M” and “The Everyday Enneagram”
 
I was honored to be asked to attend a writer’s retreat recently. I didn’t know any of the attendees save the hostess, but we all bonded on our first evening together. These women were not only writers; they were instant girlfriends.
 
Over the next 3 1/2 days, we did writing exercises and worked on current or new projects. Then we had the moments of truth. We read some of our work aloud.
 
A screenwriter was adapting her own short story into a movie script. After hearing the beginning, I can’t wait to see this film.
 
Another wrote a wrenching and poignant memoir detailing her spiritual journeys. And now I’m anxious to read this book in total.
 
A unique how-to book, humorous essays, and travel writing followed. I was awestruck. These women were really good. What was I doing here? Okay, I’ve written two books, but I’m mostly a blogger. I love writing, but I’m not sure I deserve to be called a writer just yet.
 
I confided these thoughts to our group and found that ALL of us, despite myriad credentials and publishig credits, were a little unsure that we were worthy of being called “writer”.
 
We had to laugh at ourselves, of course we are writers. I’ve noticed this before in myself and my girlfriends – a tentative uncertainty in claiming an artisitc identity. It’s so much easier to recognize the talents of others than ourselves. Yet, we don’t sever ourselves by shrinking or comparing our unique styles to others. Intellectually I know this: still old habits die hard.
 
Now is the time of life to stand up tall and say, “I am an artist, writer, photographer, botantist, creatie person, etc.” If we  say it out loud, we may realize that we deserve to shine a light on our creative endeavors; indeed ourselves. Living in the light; what a great idea for the second half of life.
 
This week, and this year, when I’m asked what I do, I will answer simply, “I’m a writer.” And I will support my girlfriends in claiming their artistic identities.

I’m Thinking About Growing a Beard

Filed under: Uncategorized — Diane Mierzwik at 5:20 pm on Sunday, July 5, 2009

While vacationing recently, I was afforded the luxury of a vanity area with very good lighting. I imagine this is supposed to allow you to apply your make-up in better lighting so when your go out in public, there isn’t a helter-skelter fault line of mascara on your eyelid and lipstick brimming your lips. Unfortunately, while applying my pure minerals foundation up close and personal in this crystal clear mirror with this really good lighting, I noticed wrinkles on my chin.

I have this stuff I apply before my foundation that is suppose to act as an undercoat and smooth out these uneven surfaces, so I leaned in closer to be sure I hadn’t just failed to wash off part of my breakfast from my chin. Then I leaned closer to be sure that my foundation hadn’t gathered in a weird way. Upon very close inspection it became clear in this great lighting that the $35 undercoat wasn’t really working and I remembered I hadn’t eaten breakfast yet that morning.

So I spent the day rubbing my chin wondering what to do about these new found wrinkles.

These wrinkles joined good company, so it wasn’t like I was shocked that I had wrinkles. It’s just that these wrinkles required some new rationalizations and strategies to preserve my self-image.

I’ve had the wrinkles around my eyes since I burned them there permanently one summer laying out at Carlsbad Beach with no sunscreen and no sunglasses – me squinting into the sun and sea in my peach bikini. But, I always liked those wrinkles, even as they got deeper and spread because I called them laugh lines, and I love laughing or even looking like I’m laughing just around the eyes even when I’m not.

Then I got wrinkles around my mouth, which mostly creased when I laughed, so I stuck with that theme of being a happy person and these wrinkles added proof.

Suddenly I had a wrinkle along one side of my face that at first went away after being awake a few hours, then decided to stick around all day. But since it’s along the side of my face, I just pretty much ignore it because I don’t really see it, much like I ignore the back of my hairdo and my butt because I don’t have time and energy to spend looking at them let alone worrying about things out of sight and out of mind.

Then I got wrinkles on my lips. Smiling took care of those and since smiling enhanced the beauty of my other wrinkles, I vowed to smile more. Some of my older friends began to think I might be losing it as I got older, what with all this unnecessary laughing and smiling all the time, but I just smiled and pretended not to be able to hear their concerns. When I wasn’t smiling, those lip lines increased just how sour I looked when I was making a sourpuss face so once again, I thought these wrinkles were an asset.

But, wrinkles on the chin, I’m having a difficult time finding a good way to hide them, or how they are actually an asset.

If I bite my lower lip, the wrinkles go away. But then I look like I’m in deep concentration and people expect me to be thoughtful and intelligent, which is a lot of pressure to be under if you’re solving all your aging troubles by relying on laughing and smiling.

I found through lots of makeup experiments that makeup just tends to make these wrinkles more pronounced because I end up with a cake chin.

Then I began eyeing my husband’s beard and wondering what was under all that hair. I got jealous that he got to hide whatever it was under that hair with hair. I contemplated how unfair it was that he looked distinguished with a beard and if I had a beard I would just look like I was taking the wrong combination of hormones and hadn’t had time to wax or that I belonged in a circus.

I decided that growing a beard, for now, was not a good solution to my wrinkled chin.

Luckily, I returned home from vacation to my poorly lighted bathroom and virtually forgot about the wrinkles on my chin. I also returned to my crazy life and thought that it wasn’t much different than a circus, so maybe a beard wasn’t such a bad option after all.  

 

This week I will resist the urge to grow a beard and join a different circus.