So, in case you are wondering where I’ve been, let me tell you, I’ve kind of been wondering the same thing. Here’s the short version: last Saturday, June 1st, I had a stroke. I barely survived. I’ll try to tell you in the details—what I remember—later. For now, I’m alive, my left side is fine. My right side, on the other hand, has limited mobility currently. Of course, I’m right-handed. But my woes are a story for another day.
Right now, I’m grateful to be alive and (mostly) intact. Thank You, God.
So, after the chaos that has been my life for the past….9 or 10 months or so–work, school, break-up, depression, recovery–I finally, finally got serious about my writing again today. I’ve been doing pretty good about blogging lately, both here, on my environmental blog, and on Writing in a Dead World (if you haven’t checked that out yet, you SHOULD), but apart from writing a few pages in The Fall a few months ago, I haven’t really written consistently in…a long, long time. That sucks. And I’m tired of it. So I started doing the HTTS Ultra lessons again today. It’s been on the to-do list for a week or two now, but the procrastination monster sort of ate that list…
I had forgotten how detailed and helpful Holly’s lessons are. The results I got for the Shadow Room technique surprised me and might have generated another story idea (assuming I ever get this one written…and some others revised…and the other partially-finished MS written…). So, yeah. I’m dedicating this summer to getting my life to where I want it to be. A big part of that is writing. Game on.
(Okay, so “piss off” is probably not a politically correct term. But it’s so much more…appropriate than “anger”. I mean, really, anger sounds so civilized. And that’s not what I’m feeling right now. Warning: if you’ve done me wrong recently, I’m talking to you. <insert evil grin>)
Everyone knows it’s not a good a idea to cross Taylor Swift. That’s a good way to end up in a hit song, and even her veiled references to events don’t always protect the guilty. But have you ever thought about the people who cross, say, Stephen King?
Most writers take inspiration from people they know. It may be a single character trait. It may be an odd quirk they notice in a stranger. It may be the way someone walks. But all those little things combine together and end up in a single, life-like character that jumps off the page. Now, if you’re on the writer’s good side, you can find yourself in the pages of their newest novel, and take pride in the compliment.
But if, on the other hand, you and the writer have a bit more…hostile relationship, you might also find yourself on the pages of a story, albeit in a much less complimentary fashion. Think about it: all those horrible villains are based on someone. And villains have to die somehow (and usually, the more painful and gruesome, the better). I’m just saying, maybe all those Stephen King characters wouldn’t have died so violently if the people he was thinking of when he wrote them had not made him angry.
Personally, I’ve been known to base characters, events, clothing, lots of things on people I know. And the way I’m feeling right now…well, let’s just say I wouldn’t be too surprised if a character in my newest novel happens to be heavily tattooed, short, selfish, and full of lies….and dies tragically when run over by the karma bus. Repeatedly. I’m just saying….revenge is sweet. Even if it’s only in my own mind.
Okay, I admit it. I love to read fiction. Especially fantasy. Bonus enjoyability points if it’s YA fantasy. I’ve read predominantly fantasy for years now, with a few forays out into mysteries, forensic thrillers, and humor (Stephanie Plum, anyone?). I normally read several books at a time, with one “main” book that I pick up whenever I have a spare moment. Normally, these are all fiction.
But lately, my TBR pile has moved into uncharted territory for me: non-fiction. Exclusively non-fiction. What? That’s what I thought, too. Now, instead of the latest fantasy gem to catch my eye, I’m reading–and eagerly awaiting reading–books like The Omnivore’s Dilemma, In Defense of Food, Pandora’s Seed, and The First Human. Granted, The First Human is reading for my anthropology class, but I’m really enjoying it and am finding it quite interesting. Pandora’s Seed also started off as reading for my evolution and ecology class–last semester–but it’s pretty interesting as well, and ties into my latest personal research into environmental issues. The Omnivore’s Dilemma and In Defense of Food are both about topics that I find very relevant of late, as I focus more on my health and eating healthier in general. Both gave me a lot of–excuse the pun–food for thought, and gave me more focus on how I spend my food dollars, and the statement I want to make with them.
I’ve also been doing more spirit-based reading, including The Blessed Life, by Pastor Robert Morris (pastor at my church, Gateway Church, and a phenomenally gifted speaker). Up next are the Divine Revelation books, and some more spirit-based reading.
Basically, I’ve found that my reading habits have changed lately, more closely tying in to the personal growth areas I’m working on. Instead of reading for sheer entertainment, now I seem to be drawn to books that will help me grow.
Does anyone else find that their reading habits change over time, or in certain situations?
(No, he doesn’t read this blog, he doesn’t even know of its existence. This is just a form of personal therapy, a way to get these thoughts out of my head and find some sort of closure, even if it’s only in my own mind.)
Hey. It’s me. You know, the one you claimed to love. The one you said you “could see yourself spending the rest of your life with.” The one you made plans with to move to California, to get 3 dogs with (yes, I still think “Bear Jew” is a stupid name for a dog). The one you asked “Can you just hang around for the next 50 years or so?” Yep. Me.
I wish I had known upfront that you were not the person you said you were. I wish I had known that all those things you said, all those plans you described, all the promises you made, were lies. When we first started dating, you told me so many things, things from your past, things that you weren’t proud of, and I never judged you for any of that. I never thought less of you. I still loved you unconditionally and accepted you , just as you were.
And I told you things I’d never told anyone else. You knew exactly how badly I’d been hurt in the past, and promised me you wouldn’t do that to me. But you did. Twice. You broke my heart, knowing exactly how badly it would hurt me, you did it anyway. The first time, I accepted your reasoning as logical, even if I still thought it was stupid. It made a sort of sense, and I knew you still loved me, we were still in each others’ lives. The second time…sigh…
The second time it was just plain selfish, childish, cowardice. Because you can’t deal with real life, with civilian life. Because you think only of yourself. Because growing up and having an adult relationship scares you. Because you refuse to get help, even when you know you need it. Because you freak out and have panic attacks when you realize that people you’ve known for years are now grown-ups and don’t want to party and drink all the time. Shocking, I know, how some people realize there are more important things in life than self-gratification. Imagine that…
I still care about you, very much, but I have found peace in my life now. I still think about you sometimes, memories still hit me out of nowhere sometimes and feel like a dagger to the heart, but I have peace. I’m so much stronger than I was before. But I’m harder as well, and you did that to me. Even with my trust issues and what I knew of you, I trusted you, and now it will be harder than ever for me to trust anyone again. I still don’t understand how you can claim to love someone and knowingly hurt them this badly. You’d been hurt like that before, so how could you do that to me?
We had an amazing relationship. We never fought. We didn’t always agree, but we balanced each other out, and we enjoyed being together so much. I never tried to change you. I never stopped you from doing what you wanted, from going out with your friends, from spending time with your family. The only things I ever asked of you were to be honest with me, and to be who you said you were.
Funny how those are the two things you just couldn’t do.
I heard through the grapevine that you thought about texting me, but didn’t, because you weren’t sure how I would respond. I’ve made my peace. I have forgiven you. I haven’t completely let go of all of the negative emotions, all of the hurt, the regret, the pain, but I’m trying. No, I haven’t made any effort to contact you, because you made it clear that you no longer wanted me in your life. I simply gave you what you wanted, and took myself out of your life. I don’t hate you. I still care about you. But I won’t put myself into someone’s life who doesn’t want me there. If you want to contact me, that’s fine, but I’m not going to initiate it.
I wish only the best for you. I hope that one day you realize who you are, that who you claim to be isn’t actually who you are. I hope your son stays who he is, and doesn’t learn certain things from you, that he doesn’t turn into the bitter, cynical person you are. Most of all, I hope that you find God, and that you realize that He is what you need to fill that hole inside of you, not drinking and partying and meaningless encounters.
I do still love you, but I need someone who is who they claim to be. A real, honest, trustworthy man, someone who is worthy of my love. Someone who won’t hurt me. Someone who doesn’t think only of himself. Someone like the person you claimed to be.
When I told you I was letting go, what I really meant was “good-bye.”
I have become a zombie. It’s true. Several months ago, I noticed that most of the people on campus at my university can’t seem to go anywhere without headphones on. It takes what, three minutes to walk between classes, and they can’t go that long without listening to music? And some of them would sit in the classroom/auditorium/lecture hall with their headphones on, until the professor would come in and actually start talking before they’d take them off. Then they’d act like it was a huge inconvenience to be without them. It was like all these people were withdrawing from the world, wanting to live in their own little bubble, with no contact with anyone outside of it. On one hand, it irritated me greatly. On the other, my Muse thought it had great potential to be used in a dystopian story, and that turned into The Fall.
Today I realized I’m guilty of this as well. I don’t know when it happened. I don’t know how. But I rarely go anywhere on campus now without my headphones on.
It’s not because I don’t want contact with the people around me–although sometimes that’s the last thing I want. Have you seen how annoying teenagers are now? (Suddenly, I feel very old.) Plus, there are inevitably people who decide to talk to me, even though I am clearly wearing my “Please Don’t Talk to Me” face (Seriously, people? Can you NOT see the look I’m giving you? Get a clue.). But even that’s not the real reason.
The real reason is because I find myself in desperate need of inspiring and uplifting music to get through the day. My priorities have shifted drastically over the last six months, and one of the things that has changed is the music I listen to most of the time. It keeps me on an even keel. And considering the stress in my life, I need an even keel (and, possibly, a life preserver). Hence the ever-present headphones. But I do take them off when I go into a classroom. And I can’t listen to words with music when I’m writing–not that I’ve done much writing lately–so I don’t use them there, either.
I haven’t written in a couple of weeks, but I did some background work on The Fall this weekend, filling in some details. I also worked on the revision outline for the zombie story, AND the revision on the werewolf story. I also spent an hour or so starting the Scrivener tutorial. I’ll try to finish that up this week, and start actually using it this weekend.
In case you’re wondering where I’ve been (you know, all three of you that are reading this), I need to make a confession: I tend to over-commit myself. Basically, I need about 5 extra hours in every day to get everything done I need and/or want to do. Here’s a list of things I need to be doing on a weekly basis (some of which I’m failing miserably at):
1) Work (2 15-hour days, 1 13-hour day). On my feet….
2) School: 17 hours this semester (5 class, one lab, WTF was I thinking?)
3) 3 blogs (my writing blog, my personal blog, my environmental blog)
4) Write the first draft of The Fall (My Muse thinks I’ve gone on strike.)
5) Revise the zombie story
6) Revise the werewolf story
7) Write book reviews for Examiner.com (assuming I have actual time to read)
8) Keep up with my writing crit circle (I’m trying.)
9) Church (This has become a necessity in my life. Period.)
10) Keep up with all my home projects (the green-friendly ones that are now my priority)
11) Hang out with family and The Diva (so she doesn’t have a complete breakdown. I love you, sister-wife!).
12) Work out. (Ha. Hahahaha. Yeah. With what free time? I’m pretty sure the 5-7 miles I walk at work 3 times a week count for something.)
13) I’m taking a 6-week Nutrition class on Coursera (halfway through), with a Philosophy class starting in 2 weeks…
14) I’m pretty sure I’m missing something, but I can’t remember what just now…
You’ll notice this list does not include things like, oh, sleep, relax, hang out with friends. All of which are things I do try to do, too. I’ve had some stuff going on with the Sierra Club and Environment Texas. This past weekend, I had a membership class at church. I have another one next weekend.
Watching TV…sigh. It’s a good thing I have a DVR. That’s all I’m saying. Actually, I did watch two shows I had recorded on Sunday, while I was doing other things. A friend of mine called while I was watching. He asked what I was doing. When I said “Watching TV,” there was dead silence on the line for a good ten seconds, then “REALLY?!” Yeah. Before that, it had been…oh, probably a month, since I had my TV on. Money well spent on the cable bill, huh?
In short, I’d show you my daily planner, but I’m too embarrassed. It’s probably confusing to everyone but me. Plus, I’m severely OCD when it comes to my planner and it might be color coded…
We have already discussed four enemies of the art–Approval Addiction, Psychic Vampires, F.E.A.R, and pride. What I find so fascinating is how all of these enemies seem to link together, forming a net that can ensnare us, trapping our muse and strangling her. When we are addicted to approval, we are far more likely to tolerate Psychic Vampires. Psychic Vampires feed off drama, conflict and misery and one of their favorite weapons is F.E.A.R. These types of people love using fear. Why? Because as humans we are wired to combat fear, and Psychic Vampires use this to their advantage.
When we are upset, our brains default to limbic mode—fight or flight. Unfortunately, we can’t operate in the primal brain and the higher thinking centers at the same time. This means that, in the reptile brain, we are prone to making dumb decisions. If a Psychic…
…is hard for me. I try to do too much. I know this, but I continue to do it anyway, until I’m so mentally and physically exhausted that I just can’t take it anymore. I’m tired today. So tired. I need to write, revise, blog…but I’m tired. So I’m giving myself permission to NOT do anything constructive (much) for the rest of the day. I’m going to do this:
Tomorrow Is Another Day 