(no subject)
Dear Journal-
I always sit down with the full intention of writing something meaningful, even tonight, but I don't know if that's a plausible goal. I could make my life into something it's not, but that's one of the things I partially despise about these new-fangled modern memoirs by people not old enough to have any real kind of perspective on their own memoire.
I am sitting at our kitchen table. We justed finished dinner and it was delicious--almond chicken--and now I'm contimplating both finishing the last few dishes and eating Thin Mints. Greg has to work tonight so he is plugging away in the den, stoically and silently, so I'm keeping my distance. He just wants to be finished and interruption, no matter how well meant, is simply going to delay that. I figure I should give him his space and treat him nice because he's been very sweet to me while I've been in an unknown/hormonal funk on and off for the past week. Now that I'm on the up and up, he gets bogged down. Eventually we'll even out, buoyant as we are.
Work today was fine. There was a proud moment when I finally figure out how I check the progress of a package being sent from the warehouse from my very own computer. No one told me until a week ago, and I just re-figured it out from that brief lesson and was able to answer a reviewer's inquiry. Other things accomplished: packed and shipper three times my weight in packages, labeled and stuffed 58 envelopes with galleys, attended a meeting, wrote an article for the newsletter, and decided that yes, I will work on the Brecht Journal again this year, despite the shortened timetable that has a deadline of roughly the same time as, oh, my wedding.
Wedding plans are fine--I'm trying not to let my conversations or these journal entries fill up with too much about them, it always seems to sound like bragging or like I'm fabricating stress, which maybe I am. We have booked music and this weekend we are tackling flowers. I am minorly stressed about hair & make-up the day of, but will talk to mother-in-law-to-be when I see her this weekend about said flowers. Also this weekend, there is a folk concert starring Kris Delmhorst (love) and my sister is coming too. Much to look forward to.
I am making friends at work and also discovering that there are way more Allisons/Alisons in the world than I had ever thought to come in contact with. I feel social and active, which is good. But the getting-to-know-you curve is such a new thing, I'm not sure how to feel about these friends I'm making. I want to keep them seperate, I want to do things with all of them, but I... I feel like I'm trying to access the world through an eggshell, that as much as I'd like too, I am struggling to really connect with new people and with my new environs. I'm getting comfortable here, but I also feel like I'm waiting. Maybe after the wedding, maybe come summer, things will feel more real.
Also, I have been writing 250 words or more every night. This is a start. I have so many expectations for myself, that I have to start small. Baby steps. Otherwise I start wrestling with all sorts of non-sensical, metaphysical writerly questions-- why can't I write a novel right now? how come my writing is not as good as Magaret Atwood's? why does it take so long to write something decent? can I writing anything decent? will I ever be published?--as you can see, questions that will bog down the soul. I have already begun my memoir and it will start like this: "If you are reading this and looking for guidance, look away."
This all sounds sad! I'm not sad! I am happy! Last night was the first real snowfall... unfortunate that it has come so late, but yay that it came! I watched it fall from the bedroom window. It was beautiful. This morning was crystal, but walking home tonight, it was all melted. Alas, so goes nature. Maybe there is still a little more in store.
I could technically count this as my 250 words but that would be cheating. Instead, I will post that next. I will go write them now so that I can slip into bed with a clear mind. I think I'm going to pick up an old tale that I started here... check my memories for the beginning. This hasn't been touched in a while, so cut me a little slack.
I hope you all are well and that your families are well. Write what you feel and eat good food! Do not skimp on what matters most. Cry when you need to, but never forget the message of "Monsters Inc."--that laughter is more powerful than fear. /end fortune cookies.
~A
I always sit down with the full intention of writing something meaningful, even tonight, but I don't know if that's a plausible goal. I could make my life into something it's not, but that's one of the things I partially despise about these new-fangled modern memoirs by people not old enough to have any real kind of perspective on their own memoire.
I am sitting at our kitchen table. We justed finished dinner and it was delicious--almond chicken--and now I'm contimplating both finishing the last few dishes and eating Thin Mints. Greg has to work tonight so he is plugging away in the den, stoically and silently, so I'm keeping my distance. He just wants to be finished and interruption, no matter how well meant, is simply going to delay that. I figure I should give him his space and treat him nice because he's been very sweet to me while I've been in an unknown/hormonal funk on and off for the past week. Now that I'm on the up and up, he gets bogged down. Eventually we'll even out, buoyant as we are.
Work today was fine. There was a proud moment when I finally figure out how I check the progress of a package being sent from the warehouse from my very own computer. No one told me until a week ago, and I just re-figured it out from that brief lesson and was able to answer a reviewer's inquiry. Other things accomplished: packed and shipper three times my weight in packages, labeled and stuffed 58 envelopes with galleys, attended a meeting, wrote an article for the newsletter, and decided that yes, I will work on the Brecht Journal again this year, despite the shortened timetable that has a deadline of roughly the same time as, oh, my wedding.
Wedding plans are fine--I'm trying not to let my conversations or these journal entries fill up with too much about them, it always seems to sound like bragging or like I'm fabricating stress, which maybe I am. We have booked music and this weekend we are tackling flowers. I am minorly stressed about hair & make-up the day of, but will talk to mother-in-law-to-be when I see her this weekend about said flowers. Also this weekend, there is a folk concert starring Kris Delmhorst (love) and my sister is coming too. Much to look forward to.
I am making friends at work and also discovering that there are way more Allisons/Alisons in the world than I had ever thought to come in contact with. I feel social and active, which is good. But the getting-to-know-you curve is such a new thing, I'm not sure how to feel about these friends I'm making. I want to keep them seperate, I want to do things with all of them, but I... I feel like I'm trying to access the world through an eggshell, that as much as I'd like too, I am struggling to really connect with new people and with my new environs. I'm getting comfortable here, but I also feel like I'm waiting. Maybe after the wedding, maybe come summer, things will feel more real.
Also, I have been writing 250 words or more every night. This is a start. I have so many expectations for myself, that I have to start small. Baby steps. Otherwise I start wrestling with all sorts of non-sensical, metaphysical writerly questions-- why can't I write a novel right now? how come my writing is not as good as Magaret Atwood's? why does it take so long to write something decent? can I writing anything decent? will I ever be published?--as you can see, questions that will bog down the soul. I have already begun my memoir and it will start like this: "If you are reading this and looking for guidance, look away."
This all sounds sad! I'm not sad! I am happy! Last night was the first real snowfall... unfortunate that it has come so late, but yay that it came! I watched it fall from the bedroom window. It was beautiful. This morning was crystal, but walking home tonight, it was all melted. Alas, so goes nature. Maybe there is still a little more in store.
I could technically count this as my 250 words but that would be cheating. Instead, I will post that next. I will go write them now so that I can slip into bed with a clear mind. I think I'm going to pick up an old tale that I started here... check my memories for the beginning. This hasn't been touched in a while, so cut me a little slack.
I hope you all are well and that your families are well. Write what you feel and eat good food! Do not skimp on what matters most. Cry when you need to, but never forget the message of "Monsters Inc."--that laughter is more powerful than fear. /end fortune cookies.
~A