To ten million fireflies, I'm weird 'cuz I hate goodbyes...
It's been an odd few weeks. I feel as though I'm drifting through the days distracted and dazed and not really aware of anything, skipping over a lot of important details. I'm not sure why that is exactly, although it might be partially weather related. The silent explosion of color, while pretty, is offset by the dark and the wet and the cold, which makes me want to curl up and sleep and eat lots of carbs. There might also be some inner survival mechanism keeping me pointed toward basic mobility while my inner landscape shifts and rumbles, but it's keeping me feeling a little scattered and a lot out of touch. I keep forgetting important things and losing myself in easy fiction because I can't seem to concentrate on much else. It's starting to tick me off. But there are some reasons for inner-landscape shifting.
In the continuing saga, my marriage that has for all intents and purposes been over for the past two plus years, will now officially be over on November 10th. Or at least, as far as I understand it, it will be. I have to go to the courthouse and present the paperwork that day, so I'm pretty sure that means that once the judge or whomever signs it, it's over. The paperwork has been delayed for some time for various and sundry reasons that I won't go into right here, but it's been a long time coming. And I'm not exactly sure how I'm feeling, other than the inner voice of "I'll believe it when I see it" and also "it's not like it actually changes anything." But it will mean that a major chapter of my life is officially done, and that certain issues will now not be my issues. Most of which will be a relief, but I'm still sort of just floating above it and not all that aware of my inner landscape. I got married in 1996, at not quite 24. I'm 37 now. You'd think I would have some sort of pithy wisdom or something here, but the most I can come up with is, what does one wear to your divorce? I presume my mid-range work attire should do, but it's not like I've done this sort of thing before. Beyond that, I feel kind of blank about it. I'm not sure if that's normal. The lawyer, a rather dry and sarcastic man, advised me not to bring any weaponry when I asked him what I should bring. I told him I thought tall boots ought to be excitement enough, really. Is this a normal exchange for this sort of occasion? I have no idea.
My uncle died this past weekend. He'd been ill for some time: he was a diabetic, and had a heart condition, and each exacerbated the other. For the last few years I know he's been in and out of the hospital for various reasons, but I know he was home again when he passed. I think that he probably was happier at home, anyway. I feel odd about his passing in a lot of ways. Ken was a wonderful man, from what I knew of him, but I didn't know him very well anymore. When I was young, we lived in Wisconsin and they were upstate from us. We'd see that side of the family (Ken was my father's sister's husband) relatively often. It was only a couple of hours to their farm, as I recall. But when we moved when I was 11, we stopped visiting so regularly, and I have to admit to taking more time out to see my best friend Angie when we went to Wisconsin, instead of visiting my aunt and uncle and cousins. Which means I missed out on some family time there. And in more recent years, I just haven't been to Wisconsin very often. I remember Ken as kind and amused by my extremely whiny, bratty self when I was a kid, perhaps more indulgent because he didn't have a daughter and I was probably an interesting novelty in a house full of boys (his two plus my two brothers). And he was unfailingly sweet whenever I saw him as an adult. I can't imagine the pain his family is in right now. If it were my father, I would be devastated. I keep putting off sending a card as I can't begin to think of what to say. I'm going to have to get over that and send one tomorrow, as it's getting to be rude that I haven't sent something. I hesitate to send flowers; I don't know if they'd want them.
I haven't been writing. It's a big deal. I've been not writing for quite a long time now. It's a missing spot in my head. The words aren't there, and when they are there, they trail off into a random buzz that mostly consists of a lack of confidence and energy, and no general sense of how to make plot work anymore. This bothers me a lot. That sounds incredibly insipid. This shakes the foundation of my sense of self, and has for some time. The excuse that I've been unable to create due to my life issues is not enough. I'm determined to figure out a way past this and re-learn how to find that spot in my head. Writers, do you know what I'm talking about? That spot in your head that shoots plot and character and story to you, and the pictures come through with the words, and even when you're sweating bullets to make the words, it still feels open and ready? I lost that spot. I don't know what I need to do to find it again, but I'm now determined to push hard and blast open a new one if the old one is gone.
But I don't have time to really sit and analyze all of this. The next few weeks are hectic in a good way. Tonight teh sweetie and I are going to see La Traviata, and I've never seen it, so I'm looking forward to it. I'm wearing the blue patterned dress that the Scholes' like so much, and my tall sexy boots. I wore them to work as well. Miki says I look like I could crush houses in these boots. I kind of like the image. I feel a little like I should dress up more, but as there's no time between work and the start of the opera to go home and change, this is going to have to do. As we live in Seattle, I feel relatively sanguine that I shan't be the most underdressed person there. I'm looking forward to the music, though. I miss music, I miss singing more. I miss big giant productions, and while I miss being in them like I was in high school and college, I think I enjoy going to see them just as much, for far less work on my part. :p I like some Verdi, but this opera is completely unknown to me. As I like opera and find the over-blown-craziness of it entertaining, I'm pretty sure tonight is going to be fun. Dinner first, then singing and costumes and bizarre plotlines. What could be better?
The rest of the weekend is chalk-full as well: Steamcon is in town, and while I'm not really attending, there are lots of out of town friends who are that I'd like to catch up with. And there's dance classes and cleaning studios and cleaning the house. I can't not clean the house, because next week is insane, and I'd hate to come home to the mess it is now. It's ... not pretty. That scattered feeling? Yeah, it's contributing to, and being contributed by, the state of my clutter. Something this weekend is going to have to address, or I'm going to lose it ... more...
Weds I'm going up to Vancouver, BC to see U2 with friends. I'm excited about that, because I've never seen them in concert. I understand they're full of awesome, and I can't wait to see it. Driving back late from that. Then Thurs morning early Scott and I are getting on a plane to San Jose for World Fantasy. I'm so excited to go - we get to see so many friends and spend time with them, and chat and party and eat food and chat and talk and suddenly it's all pick a little talk a little but with fewer chickens. Also it's a great place to meet other writers and of course, editors and publishers and agents. I am not prepared this time. I did not get so far in my novel as I wanted, due to aforementioned not writing, so I can't talk up my latest masterwork because I'm still in the phase of crap, how am I going to end this thing, anyway? But Scott is prepared, and I am going to try to forego guilt and instead focus on plans to finish this novel, now that my life might be a bit more ... settled. Maybe. We don't get back from WF until Monday sometime.
Then as soon as I'm back, work should be gearing up for absolutely insane, shortly followed by crap falling from the sky, then re-launch of the project. Then comes Thanksgiving and Orycon, and then I have eye surgery, and then it's xmas time. I'm not sure that whole life settling thing is going to happen so much. Dang. But I'll have to figure out my headspace and get the writing done anyway, because I am determined to find writing again. I miss it. I miss that space in my brain. It's been filled with other things for too long, and I think it's time to reclaim it.
In the continuing saga, my marriage that has for all intents and purposes been over for the past two plus years, will now officially be over on November 10th. Or at least, as far as I understand it, it will be. I have to go to the courthouse and present the paperwork that day, so I'm pretty sure that means that once the judge or whomever signs it, it's over. The paperwork has been delayed for some time for various and sundry reasons that I won't go into right here, but it's been a long time coming. And I'm not exactly sure how I'm feeling, other than the inner voice of "I'll believe it when I see it" and also "it's not like it actually changes anything." But it will mean that a major chapter of my life is officially done, and that certain issues will now not be my issues. Most of which will be a relief, but I'm still sort of just floating above it and not all that aware of my inner landscape. I got married in 1996, at not quite 24. I'm 37 now. You'd think I would have some sort of pithy wisdom or something here, but the most I can come up with is, what does one wear to your divorce? I presume my mid-range work attire should do, but it's not like I've done this sort of thing before. Beyond that, I feel kind of blank about it. I'm not sure if that's normal. The lawyer, a rather dry and sarcastic man, advised me not to bring any weaponry when I asked him what I should bring. I told him I thought tall boots ought to be excitement enough, really. Is this a normal exchange for this sort of occasion? I have no idea.
My uncle died this past weekend. He'd been ill for some time: he was a diabetic, and had a heart condition, and each exacerbated the other. For the last few years I know he's been in and out of the hospital for various reasons, but I know he was home again when he passed. I think that he probably was happier at home, anyway. I feel odd about his passing in a lot of ways. Ken was a wonderful man, from what I knew of him, but I didn't know him very well anymore. When I was young, we lived in Wisconsin and they were upstate from us. We'd see that side of the family (Ken was my father's sister's husband) relatively often. It was only a couple of hours to their farm, as I recall. But when we moved when I was 11, we stopped visiting so regularly, and I have to admit to taking more time out to see my best friend Angie when we went to Wisconsin, instead of visiting my aunt and uncle and cousins. Which means I missed out on some family time there. And in more recent years, I just haven't been to Wisconsin very often. I remember Ken as kind and amused by my extremely whiny, bratty self when I was a kid, perhaps more indulgent because he didn't have a daughter and I was probably an interesting novelty in a house full of boys (his two plus my two brothers). And he was unfailingly sweet whenever I saw him as an adult. I can't imagine the pain his family is in right now. If it were my father, I would be devastated. I keep putting off sending a card as I can't begin to think of what to say. I'm going to have to get over that and send one tomorrow, as it's getting to be rude that I haven't sent something. I hesitate to send flowers; I don't know if they'd want them.
I haven't been writing. It's a big deal. I've been not writing for quite a long time now. It's a missing spot in my head. The words aren't there, and when they are there, they trail off into a random buzz that mostly consists of a lack of confidence and energy, and no general sense of how to make plot work anymore. This bothers me a lot. That sounds incredibly insipid. This shakes the foundation of my sense of self, and has for some time. The excuse that I've been unable to create due to my life issues is not enough. I'm determined to figure out a way past this and re-learn how to find that spot in my head. Writers, do you know what I'm talking about? That spot in your head that shoots plot and character and story to you, and the pictures come through with the words, and even when you're sweating bullets to make the words, it still feels open and ready? I lost that spot. I don't know what I need to do to find it again, but I'm now determined to push hard and blast open a new one if the old one is gone.
But I don't have time to really sit and analyze all of this. The next few weeks are hectic in a good way. Tonight teh sweetie and I are going to see La Traviata, and I've never seen it, so I'm looking forward to it. I'm wearing the blue patterned dress that the Scholes' like so much, and my tall sexy boots. I wore them to work as well. Miki says I look like I could crush houses in these boots. I kind of like the image. I feel a little like I should dress up more, but as there's no time between work and the start of the opera to go home and change, this is going to have to do. As we live in Seattle, I feel relatively sanguine that I shan't be the most underdressed person there. I'm looking forward to the music, though. I miss music, I miss singing more. I miss big giant productions, and while I miss being in them like I was in high school and college, I think I enjoy going to see them just as much, for far less work on my part. :p I like some Verdi, but this opera is completely unknown to me. As I like opera and find the over-blown-craziness of it entertaining, I'm pretty sure tonight is going to be fun. Dinner first, then singing and costumes and bizarre plotlines. What could be better?
The rest of the weekend is chalk-full as well: Steamcon is in town, and while I'm not really attending, there are lots of out of town friends who are that I'd like to catch up with. And there's dance classes and cleaning studios and cleaning the house. I can't not clean the house, because next week is insane, and I'd hate to come home to the mess it is now. It's ... not pretty. That scattered feeling? Yeah, it's contributing to, and being contributed by, the state of my clutter. Something this weekend is going to have to address, or I'm going to lose it ... more...
Weds I'm going up to Vancouver, BC to see U2 with friends. I'm excited about that, because I've never seen them in concert. I understand they're full of awesome, and I can't wait to see it. Driving back late from that. Then Thurs morning early Scott and I are getting on a plane to San Jose for World Fantasy. I'm so excited to go - we get to see so many friends and spend time with them, and chat and party and eat food and chat and talk and suddenly it's all pick a little talk a little but with fewer chickens. Also it's a great place to meet other writers and of course, editors and publishers and agents. I am not prepared this time. I did not get so far in my novel as I wanted, due to aforementioned not writing, so I can't talk up my latest masterwork because I'm still in the phase of crap, how am I going to end this thing, anyway? But Scott is prepared, and I am going to try to forego guilt and instead focus on plans to finish this novel, now that my life might be a bit more ... settled. Maybe. We don't get back from WF until Monday sometime.
Then as soon as I'm back, work should be gearing up for absolutely insane, shortly followed by crap falling from the sky, then re-launch of the project. Then comes Thanksgiving and Orycon, and then I have eye surgery, and then it's xmas time. I'm not sure that whole life settling thing is going to happen so much. Dang. But I'll have to figure out my headspace and get the writing done anyway, because I am determined to find writing again. I miss it. I miss that space in my brain. It's been filled with other things for too long, and I think it's time to reclaim it.