As I get older it becomes increasingly evident to me that I am not a normal person. I honestly wasn’t aware of this before. I’ve been making stories up in my head since I was a preschooler---way before I entertained thoughts of becoming a writer (an idea I didn’t give serious consideration until three years ago). I always assumed that everybody was making stories up in their head. I thought the normal thing to do after watching a TV show was to construct a mental script of what happened to the characters next.
But that’s just one of my personal quirks—it doesn’t actually make me weird (I don’t think). But then there are my feelings about relationships, men and being alone.
First off, I’m not a romantic. I consider romance to be a sales-pitch. Some guy (or girl) wants to create a demand for whatever it is they're selling and they do so by showering their target market (which hopefully consists of one person) with hearts and flowers. Now I have a degree in marketing so I have great respect and admiration for a good sales-pitch. As far as I’m concerned the best part of the Superbowl is the commercials and I love it when something I want is packaged well. But if a guy neglects to send me a Valentine or forgets our anniversary I’m not going to get upset. The only holiday I expect to be acknowledged for is Mother’s Day because I worked for that one.
Does all that make me a little weird? Probably. Here’s something else—I like being alone. I know a lot of women say that but I really mean it. I’m not going to say that I would never consider entering a long-term committed romantic relationship again (I’m a big believer in the never-say-never thing) but relationships—even good ones, are so much work. Why go through all that for some guy who isn’t totally spectacular when being alone is so easy? I do like dating and I’ll admit I love being ‘picked-up’. That excitement you feel when some new guy first approaches you and tentatively tries to make conversation is great fun. Unless of course their a total idiot—note to men: your first words to me should never be ‘do you believe in fate’ or ‘you are so f-cking hot.’ I’ll still have my fun--but at your expense.
I know that some people will read this and think I’m trying to justify my relationship failures. I’m not. You don’t have to believe me but I should tell you that while men have lied to me and done or said hurtful things to me no one has ever dumped me. Of course there have been times when I went out on a date with a man and then never heard from him again and there have been men who I found attractive who never bothered to give me the time of day but I’ve never been in a committed relationship with someone and had them call me up, email me or sit down with me and say ‘Kyra, I don’t think we should see each other anymore.’
Yet here I am, a single woman by choice because for me if a relationship is more work than it is fun or if it is somehow destructive then I will get out of it—quickly.
I don’t judge women who want to be in a relationship. If that’s important to you then the choice to pursue one is a valid one—in fact it’s the only logical choice for you to make and you shouldn’t feel defensive about it. We’re all different and we should conduct our lives in a way that makes us happy (assuming you’re choices do not necessitate the suffering of others).
But personally I love being single. I love living alone with my son. I love the freedom and the independence of it. Does that make me weird---absolutely.
--Kyra
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte---May 2005
Friday, February 25, 2005
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Survival of the least fit
A few years ago I was adopted by a cat. No, I didn’t miswrite that. One day I woke up to discover that a strange cat had made my backyard his home. My son and I ended up naming him fatty for obvious reasons. A few months ago I was looking for a way to cut costs and thus started buying cheaper cat food. Fatty was not thrilled but not being a cat person I assumed that he would adjust. I did try to compromise by getting a slightly more expensive brand (but still cheaper than what I was serving him before) but to no avail. As Fatty began to rapidly lose weight I began to worry. Clearly this wasn’t about the food. Fatty’s getting on in years and I took his diminished weight as being indicative of his impending death.
Personally, I’m a big believer in going out in style. When I reach eighty I’ll be having Ben & Jerry’s for dinner and top shelf Vodka for dessert. At ninety I plan to start experimenting with illegal narcotics.
So I went out and bought this rather expensive tuna-fish-made-special-for-your-finicky-cat-food. I knew Fatty wouldn’t eat much of it due to his health but at least he’d have a taste of decadence.
The first time I served it Fatty ate a whole can’s worth of food in less than a half hour. Several cans (and dollars) later Fatty is back to a normal weight and happy as can be.
Apparently my cat would rather die than eat generic brand cat food.
So this got me thinking--maybe the anthropologists are wrong. Maybe the survival of our species has less to do with our opposable thumbs and advanced brain capacity and more to do with our incredibly low standards. For instance: what would happen to the human race if “starving” college students went to the standard campus parties took one look at the cold pizza and lukewarm beer being served, smiled at their host and said, “No thanks. I’d rather die.”
Pandas are on the verge of extinction because there is no longer enough bamboo in China to support them. And no matter how hard the Chinese government tries to convince them otherwise they simply will not settle for the less exotic but more plentiful Veggie Booties.
Now I know that there are those of you who are very careful about what you put in your body and you probably think you don’t practice this “low-standard-survival” technique. I beg to differ. I’ve tasted soy cheese and if accepting that as a substitute for a big ol’ chunk of Gouda isn’t a perfect example of lowering the bar taste-bud-wise I don’t know what is.
Thus despite all the scary articles about trans-fat and refined sugars I really think our willingness to eat all this stuff may be the very thing that is keeping us alive. What other species would take a bunch of cartilage, process it, dye it, make it into the shape if a small bear and then serve it as a treat to the young by calling it a gummi?
Honestly, as a species we’re fascinating.
Kyra
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte—May 2005
Personally, I’m a big believer in going out in style. When I reach eighty I’ll be having Ben & Jerry’s for dinner and top shelf Vodka for dessert. At ninety I plan to start experimenting with illegal narcotics.
So I went out and bought this rather expensive tuna-fish-made-special-for-your-finicky-cat-food. I knew Fatty wouldn’t eat much of it due to his health but at least he’d have a taste of decadence.
The first time I served it Fatty ate a whole can’s worth of food in less than a half hour. Several cans (and dollars) later Fatty is back to a normal weight and happy as can be.
Apparently my cat would rather die than eat generic brand cat food.
So this got me thinking--maybe the anthropologists are wrong. Maybe the survival of our species has less to do with our opposable thumbs and advanced brain capacity and more to do with our incredibly low standards. For instance: what would happen to the human race if “starving” college students went to the standard campus parties took one look at the cold pizza and lukewarm beer being served, smiled at their host and said, “No thanks. I’d rather die.”
Pandas are on the verge of extinction because there is no longer enough bamboo in China to support them. And no matter how hard the Chinese government tries to convince them otherwise they simply will not settle for the less exotic but more plentiful Veggie Booties.
Now I know that there are those of you who are very careful about what you put in your body and you probably think you don’t practice this “low-standard-survival” technique. I beg to differ. I’ve tasted soy cheese and if accepting that as a substitute for a big ol’ chunk of Gouda isn’t a perfect example of lowering the bar taste-bud-wise I don’t know what is.
Thus despite all the scary articles about trans-fat and refined sugars I really think our willingness to eat all this stuff may be the very thing that is keeping us alive. What other species would take a bunch of cartilage, process it, dye it, make it into the shape if a small bear and then serve it as a treat to the young by calling it a gummi?
Honestly, as a species we’re fascinating.
Kyra
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte—May 2005
Monday, February 21, 2005
My First Author Appearance
Well here I am blogging away for the first time. On the first of May my debut novel Sex, Murder And A Double Latte will be released and I’ve already had my first author’s appearance. The venue was my son’s K-1 class. Actually I’m officially homeschooling so this was more like a K-1 writing workshop that he attends.
When the teacher asked if I would speak a few things crossed my mind. 1) Under no circumstances would it be appropriate for me to mention the title of my book. 2) Under no circumstances would it be appropriate for me to talk about the content of my book.
That didn’t leave me a hell of a lot to talk about.
So I kept my remarks confined to the writing process itself. I told them that the most important part of writing was to get the ideas in your head down on paper. Spelling and grammar can be fixed later (did I spell grammar right?). I assured them that everyone makes mistakes in that area and it’s okay to ask for help.
One little girl raised her hand proudly and said “I never make mistakes while writing!”
“Great,” I said with what I hoped was a suitable amount of enthusiasm. “You can be a copy editor.”
I think the best part was the actual introduction. The teacher stood up and said “I want to introduce you to Kyra. She’s an author. That means she writes books that they sell in bookstores and carry in libraries."
Most of the kids seemed fairly impressed but it was my son’s reaction that really got to me. A huge smile took over his countenance and he stood up and faced his classmates. “That’s my mom!” he said, his voice brimming with pride. “She’s the best!”
I’m not sure what the critics will think of my book but it’s nice to know that my son’s reviews will always be glowing (at least until he reaches puberty but I have another 8 years before I have to worry about that).
Kyra
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte---May 2005
When the teacher asked if I would speak a few things crossed my mind. 1) Under no circumstances would it be appropriate for me to mention the title of my book. 2) Under no circumstances would it be appropriate for me to talk about the content of my book.
That didn’t leave me a hell of a lot to talk about.
So I kept my remarks confined to the writing process itself. I told them that the most important part of writing was to get the ideas in your head down on paper. Spelling and grammar can be fixed later (did I spell grammar right?). I assured them that everyone makes mistakes in that area and it’s okay to ask for help.
One little girl raised her hand proudly and said “I never make mistakes while writing!”
“Great,” I said with what I hoped was a suitable amount of enthusiasm. “You can be a copy editor.”
I think the best part was the actual introduction. The teacher stood up and said “I want to introduce you to Kyra. She’s an author. That means she writes books that they sell in bookstores and carry in libraries."
Most of the kids seemed fairly impressed but it was my son’s reaction that really got to me. A huge smile took over his countenance and he stood up and faced his classmates. “That’s my mom!” he said, his voice brimming with pride. “She’s the best!”
I’m not sure what the critics will think of my book but it’s nice to know that my son’s reviews will always be glowing (at least until he reaches puberty but I have another 8 years before I have to worry about that).
Kyra
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte---May 2005
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