so this is what it's like to have a life coach: for the next two months we shall delve into my ... whatever... bullshit to discover why i'm not writing and what exactly i can do to change that. apparently, this will happen through 'active journaling', self-assessments, practices (??) and lots and lots of talking. so much talking i anticipate my vocal chords spasming.
the Coach is a very sweet woman. she's small and blond, with quick blue eyes, sensible shoes and a kind of nordic steeliness that i find a little intimidating. she's in her late 40's or early 50's, so i'm expecting a LOT of wisdom here. she's already suggested that in order to affect change i may have to change some of my habits; i've warned her i don't own athletic gear and hate sweating.
we talked for over two hours last week in our first intake session and i was alarmed at her page of notes. so far we have discussed my family (love them, had to move 2000 miles away from them), my faith (got it, but please don't be a bible-banger), my friends (no comment) and my ... indiscretions (no comment.) while others pay thousands of dollars to be this self-indulgent, i get to explore and expose my inner recesses for free.
valentine's day was a non-event. friday night, spent all night drinking champagne, smoking and playing scrabble with the girls. i lost steadily the entire evening, even after throwing down words like 'nexus' (ok, i only used it once and every other word was something like 'fob' or 'gob' or 'mucal'.) is mucal a word? who knows? i bluffed and it landed me 18 points.
yes--i cheat at scrabble.
saturday was spent helping a. with her new coffee table and watching 'american splendor'--the most genius movie i've seen this year. yes, even more genius than LOTR.
i go to new haven in 3 weeks. the librarian awaits. yearrg, indeed.