Me Time
After a few days of writers block last week the floodgates are open. I always have one or two essays half finished in my email drafts. I go back to them, add a few lines, edit, delete and rewrite until I feel I've said what I wanted to say........then I post. I suppose that's not really journal style writing. It's more like how a columnist might write. I have those little 3 X 5 Index cards laying around with scribbled thoughts for new writing ideas, I actually wrote 'Index Cards' on an index card for my previous post on those genius little buggers. I know that's weird but it works for me.
I know the ideas are flowing when I have six half-assed essays under construction in my email drafts folder. You were warned. I clearly state in my very first post and in my profile that I have an overactive mind. It's a scary fucking place and no picnic to be in charge of. Some days the inmates are in control of the asylum. I swear to God..... who I don't happen to believe in.... this could be a mental health issue.
I've written two paragraphs and haven't even started on my topic. That's verbosity at it's finest.......or worst.
I mentioned back in early May that my girlfriend Cheryl moved in with me. This was no small step. I was married 22 years, divorced almost two and became quite comfortable living alone. My fabulous 18-year-old son is with me 3 days on / 3 days off. I loved the 'me time' I had when Jeffrey was with mom, Cheryl and I had no plans and I was like McCauley Caulkin (sp?) in Home Alone. Okay, I didn't have to fight off burglers Joe Pesci and Daniel Stern but you might understand that freedom of HAVING NO ONE TO DEAL WITH in an empty house. After 22 years under a totalitarian regime I felt like Nelson Mandela running naked around the house playing air guitar with Van Halen cranked on the stereo. Party on Garth !
Cheryl had been divorced 5 years, lived alone that whole time and was rather set in her ways as far as how she does things, when, where and how much she does on any given day. She had a routine and a few hundred boxes of ........... .sorry, we'll discuss that another time. Psssst sshhh, she reads this blog.........I think.
One of my biggest concerns about her moving in was the 'me time' issue. I theorized that our time living alone would make this a non-issue because we've both grown to appreciate 'me time'. For those who don't know what 'me time' is.........it's the private time you have to do what you want in your own home and there's little, if any, interruption for hours. While this may be a totally foreign concept to married people with children (oh yeah, I've been there) it has become cherished time for me. Guess what? I write online shit during 'me time.'
After 48 days, 11 hours and 22 minutes (I'm guessing on the minutes) of us living together I think we're okay on the 'me time' issue. Tonight is a perfect example. Cheryl got home before me and started dinner. When I got home I set up my percolator for tomorrow's coffee, Starbucks Sumatra, flipped on the TV for baseball scores and made my fruit salad for tomorrow's lunch. We had dinner, I cleaned up afterwards, she started reading one of her many books and I watched a movie on HBO. After that she was online with her Mac , she's an Apple geek, and I came up here to pay bills online and write in my blog.
Of course we talked and had some time together but it was mostly a 'me time' evening. At one point, between the movie and this writing, I even told her how great it was to have a 'me time' night. I have like six fucking column-esque essays to finish!
Two nights ago we did the NBA game at a sportsbar PLUS a blues concert. Last night we watched an Eddie Izzard DVD....the greatest tranvestite comedian in the history of tranvestites. Tonight was 'me time'.
It's all good.
I know the ideas are flowing when I have six half-assed essays under construction in my email drafts folder. You were warned. I clearly state in my very first post and in my profile that I have an overactive mind. It's a scary fucking place and no picnic to be in charge of. Some days the inmates are in control of the asylum. I swear to God..... who I don't happen to believe in.... this could be a mental health issue.
I've written two paragraphs and haven't even started on my topic. That's verbosity at it's finest.......or worst.
I mentioned back in early May that my girlfriend Cheryl moved in with me. This was no small step. I was married 22 years, divorced almost two and became quite comfortable living alone. My fabulous 18-year-old son is with me 3 days on / 3 days off. I loved the 'me time' I had when Jeffrey was with mom, Cheryl and I had no plans and I was like McCauley Caulkin (sp?) in Home Alone. Okay, I didn't have to fight off burglers Joe Pesci and Daniel Stern but you might understand that freedom of HAVING NO ONE TO DEAL WITH in an empty house. After 22 years under a totalitarian regime I felt like Nelson Mandela running naked around the house playing air guitar with Van Halen cranked on the stereo. Party on Garth !
Cheryl had been divorced 5 years, lived alone that whole time and was rather set in her ways as far as how she does things, when, where and how much she does on any given day. She had a routine and a few hundred boxes of ........... .sorry, we'll discuss that another time. Psssst sshhh, she reads this blog.........I think.
One of my biggest concerns about her moving in was the 'me time' issue. I theorized that our time living alone would make this a non-issue because we've both grown to appreciate 'me time'. For those who don't know what 'me time' is.........it's the private time you have to do what you want in your own home and there's little, if any, interruption for hours. While this may be a totally foreign concept to married people with children (oh yeah, I've been there) it has become cherished time for me. Guess what? I write online shit during 'me time.'
After 48 days, 11 hours and 22 minutes (I'm guessing on the minutes) of us living together I think we're okay on the 'me time' issue. Tonight is a perfect example. Cheryl got home before me and started dinner. When I got home I set up my percolator for tomorrow's coffee, Starbucks Sumatra, flipped on the TV for baseball scores and made my fruit salad for tomorrow's lunch. We had dinner, I cleaned up afterwards, she started reading one of her many books and I watched a movie on HBO. After that she was online with her Mac , she's an Apple geek, and I came up here to pay bills online and write in my blog.
Of course we talked and had some time together but it was mostly a 'me time' evening. At one point, between the movie and this writing, I even told her how great it was to have a 'me time' night. I have like six fucking column-esque essays to finish!
Two nights ago we did the NBA game at a sportsbar PLUS a blues concert. Last night we watched an Eddie Izzard DVD....the greatest tranvestite comedian in the history of tranvestites. Tonight was 'me time'.
It's all good.