How did I spend New Year's Day? A lot of cooking, cleaning, and laundry. At least five episodes of the Derry Girls (when it comes to movies and television, I am always several years behind). And reading up on the history of the Catholic Church.
And the day after? Filling three trash bags worth of junk that accumulated in my youngest daughter's room. Wrapping up the Derry Girls series (many a laugh was had, and many a tear shed). And writing this blog post.
So, here I am, bloated from a weekend of culinary debauchery, tired from two straight days of housework, and disappointed with my failure to maintain my writing goals during the last few months. Yet, I have never been one to despair. Even when the waters of the local river and canal began to collect at the foot of my driveway during Hurricane Irene, I refused to lose hope that they would pour into my basement (eventually eight feet of water would fill the basement). Hence tonight's effort at blogging.
I am also easily inspired. Especially by what I see as timely experiences. For example, there is the book recommendation that I discovered thanks to a recent Google feed (it is always hit or miss: yes, tell me more about best practices in middle school mathematics, but, please, I do not care what Kim Kardashian said about Kanye West's co-parenting skills, or how Margot Robbie's red outfit in the movie Babylon blew people's minds). It was an article about the Vatican II Council. In the past year, I have grown interested in Catholicism, both historically and theologically (I was born, raised, and confirmed a Catholic, but have since renounced the Church). So, I read through it and found a suggested author: John W. O'Malley. Once again, interlibrary loans to the rescue. Within two days, I had two of his books: Trent: What Happened at the Council, and What Happened at Vatican II. I dove right into the first title, because Trent happened before Vatican II, like four centuries prior. And I am loving every page of it.
If you have been following this blog, you will know that reading is important to me. Unfortunately, I struggle to find time for it. But on those rare occasions when I pursue a particular title, I am quickly reminded why I love reading. Even when I find the book disappointing (it happened twice this year). So, following through on the suggested works of Father O'Malley, and finding myself thoroughly enjoying his telling of an historical event, well, it like a revelation. But one I have known many times before.
Now combine that with a tale about five teenage girls (well, one is a boy, but does not matter, except when it does) living in Derry, a city in Northern Ireland. I must confess, I do not like committing to television series. There are too many episodes and too many seasons. And the worse is when each episode lasts more than thirty minutes. Focusing is not a problem--I can sit through a six-episode documentary on the history of cinema, or twenty-four lectures on the science of philosophy. But, I have reached middle-age, and my time is precious to me. Like, I do not have time to spend following the rise and fall of a high school chemistry teacher across sixty-two episodes. Or the lives of sadistic rulers in a pseudo-medieval world through six seasons. A part of me regrets ever wasting time sitting through the entirety of Cheers, Friends, and How I Met Your Mother. I mean, I love Frasier, but I was getting sick of hearing "Sherry, Niles". And do not get me started on the Simpsons. Seriously, I gave up a third of the way through its current run.
Nowadays I limit my choices to television series that are under three seasons, with no more than twelve episodes each. Derry Girls fit the bill: three seasons, six thirty-minute-long episodes each (with an extra one for the finale). In addition, it was not an American production. I have always had a soft spot for foreign media, since I was in high school. While their heavy Irish accents forced me to put on subtitles halfway through the series, it was well worth it. These characters and their stories made me laugh, cry, and empathize with their triumphs and struggles. In the end, that is what I loved. I am exhausted with the world-ending plots of superhero movies, and the Machiavellian machinations that modern television writers feel the need to insert into every script. While the political struggles of Northern Ireland runs throughout the Derry Girls, for the most part, it is in the background (except for the last episode), and, more importantly, seen through the eyes of the characters. Otherwise, we are immersed in the lives and culture of regular people doing regular things.
What is so inspiring about experiencing this show? Well, it told a story, a good and simple one, about a place I have never been, with people I will never meet. And it did it well. Which is exactly what I want to do. Share my stories. They are not epic, or groundbreaking. The characters do not change the world. But they are interesting. Well, they are to me anyway. Watching this series, and enjoying it in the way that I did, reminded me how thrilling it can be to write something down and share it with the world.
So, thanks to a book recommendation and a foreign television series, on the second day of the new year, I am having another go at this thing called writing. And I am starting with this blog post.
Hopefully, over the course of the new year, many more will follow it, along with daily journal entries, and a draft of my first novel.
We shall see...
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