You are failing.
Go away.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Success
...it furthers one to cross the great waters.
Or something like that. It's a quote I'm misremembering from the I Ching, back when I believed that if I threw coins it could tell me something about myself. I don't disbelieve it now, maybe I just believe it a little less. Or, maybe, I want to believe it.
I wrote 2,000 words today.
After my last post, complaining that I couldn't do it all, I did work out today and I even went to Costco and bought various forms of protein and then I cooked a turkey breast (btw, SUPER complicated: you cut open the package, plop it in a dish and put it in the oven). And then I made myself lunch and took a shower. And then I wrote.
Then I picked up the kid from school, drove the carpool, did a little more grocery shopping (what is it about the words "almond milk" that cause that item to drop off my list the moment I walk into a store? Is it because I'm stupid?) came home, surfed the internet for 15 minutes, then I wrote for another hour and then I "made dinner" (made quinoa: boil water, add quinoa; steamed broccoli: boil water, cut up broccoli, put broccoli in pan; cut up turkey I had already cooked; poured chocolate soymilk into glass: Wala! I'm mother of the year!).
Then we watched "Community" and Son had a snack of health food store toaster pastries.
Then I sat on the couch with Son and we both read Diary of a Wimpy Kid books. I finished mine! Then I watched "Waitress." Why can movies have happy endings and not be sappy? Or, are they sappy and we just don't mind? And by "we" I mean "me." I mean, I don't mind.
So that's my "I'm Superwoman and don't you fucking forget it" Day.
Did I mention that MB did all the dishes and a shitload of laundry? I'm sure that had something to do with it. Also, who cares what we have for dinner? I mean, I got all the food groups in there. Plus dessert that comes in little foil packets. That, my friends, is the secret to happiness. Whatever it is, it's just fine.
Or something like that. It's a quote I'm misremembering from the I Ching, back when I believed that if I threw coins it could tell me something about myself. I don't disbelieve it now, maybe I just believe it a little less. Or, maybe, I want to believe it.
I wrote 2,000 words today.
After my last post, complaining that I couldn't do it all, I did work out today and I even went to Costco and bought various forms of protein and then I cooked a turkey breast (btw, SUPER complicated: you cut open the package, plop it in a dish and put it in the oven). And then I made myself lunch and took a shower. And then I wrote.
Then I picked up the kid from school, drove the carpool, did a little more grocery shopping (what is it about the words "almond milk" that cause that item to drop off my list the moment I walk into a store? Is it because I'm stupid?) came home, surfed the internet for 15 minutes, then I wrote for another hour and then I "made dinner" (made quinoa: boil water, add quinoa; steamed broccoli: boil water, cut up broccoli, put broccoli in pan; cut up turkey I had already cooked; poured chocolate soymilk into glass: Wala! I'm mother of the year!).
Then we watched "Community" and Son had a snack of health food store toaster pastries.
Then I sat on the couch with Son and we both read Diary of a Wimpy Kid books. I finished mine! Then I watched "Waitress." Why can movies have happy endings and not be sappy? Or, are they sappy and we just don't mind? And by "we" I mean "me." I mean, I don't mind.
So that's my "I'm Superwoman and don't you fucking forget it" Day.
Did I mention that MB did all the dishes and a shitload of laundry? I'm sure that had something to do with it. Also, who cares what we have for dinner? I mean, I got all the food groups in there. Plus dessert that comes in little foil packets. That, my friends, is the secret to happiness. Whatever it is, it's just fine.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Too Much
MB suggests I am doing too much. This is after a crazy workout at Crossfit, one that left me tired (I went home and laid down for one hour) and too sore to type. Yeah, I was too sore to work on my novel.
Maybe, MB suggests, you shouldn't try to: teach full-time, keep up this crazy workout schedule, be a Mom, run, be social, etc., especially when I have trouble sleeping, which I do.
Maybe.
Maybe it's my crazy workout schedule (Monday: off; Tuesday: Crossfit; Wednesday: run; Thursday: Crossfit; Friday: run; Saturday: Kettlebell class; Sunday: run). But, sometimes I don't run on Wednesday, sometimes I go to Crossfit or do nothing.
Maybe it's my sleep schedule (go to bed around 11, get up around 7). Sometimes I wake up before 6 and just lay there, my mind busily spinning with the things I need to accomplish. Sometimes I fall back to sleep. More often, I don't.
What is this too much of which he speaks? Is it just the human condition that we try to do more than we actually can? Is this an affliction of the working/writing Mom? Is this an affliction of the woman of 2009? It's not enough to be a writer or to be a Mom, I also have to be in shape and awesome?
I have to say, I like to work out, it's good for stress, though sometimes it causes stress. My workout buddies are my social group, my friends. If I didn't work out with them, I wouldn't see them. Sad!
But what about writing? I will finish the novel this year and I think I can work out AND work on my novel.
In my opinion, it's all the grading that intrudes on my writing time. That, and napping when I can't hold my hands up long enough to type a word. There is that.
Maybe, MB suggests, you shouldn't try to: teach full-time, keep up this crazy workout schedule, be a Mom, run, be social, etc., especially when I have trouble sleeping, which I do.
Maybe.
Maybe it's my crazy workout schedule (Monday: off; Tuesday: Crossfit; Wednesday: run; Thursday: Crossfit; Friday: run; Saturday: Kettlebell class; Sunday: run). But, sometimes I don't run on Wednesday, sometimes I go to Crossfit or do nothing.
Maybe it's my sleep schedule (go to bed around 11, get up around 7). Sometimes I wake up before 6 and just lay there, my mind busily spinning with the things I need to accomplish. Sometimes I fall back to sleep. More often, I don't.
What is this too much of which he speaks? Is it just the human condition that we try to do more than we actually can? Is this an affliction of the working/writing Mom? Is this an affliction of the woman of 2009? It's not enough to be a writer or to be a Mom, I also have to be in shape and awesome?
I have to say, I like to work out, it's good for stress, though sometimes it causes stress. My workout buddies are my social group, my friends. If I didn't work out with them, I wouldn't see them. Sad!
But what about writing? I will finish the novel this year and I think I can work out AND work on my novel.
In my opinion, it's all the grading that intrudes on my writing time. That, and napping when I can't hold my hands up long enough to type a word. There is that.
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
The Next Thing
I'm looking for the Next Thing. Have you seen it? This is the thing that will help me sleep past 5 AM, the thing that will quiet my asking mind, that will pick me up and calm me down. I am looking for free house cleaning and free massage and free will. I am looking for more and less. I am looking.
Also, this next thing must be affordable, sugar free, approximate. It must be close, accessible, desirable. It must be like a kitten and a lion. It must be.
Perhaps the next thing is next. It is next, and so, waiting, it will arrive. Or, fleeting, it must be pursued. One of these is true.
The next thing exists only in dreams, in sleeping, in thought.
The next thing is not here now, and so must be next, and so must be deferred and so never.
Never, never next thing.
Also, this next thing must be affordable, sugar free, approximate. It must be close, accessible, desirable. It must be like a kitten and a lion. It must be.
Perhaps the next thing is next. It is next, and so, waiting, it will arrive. Or, fleeting, it must be pursued. One of these is true.
The next thing exists only in dreams, in sleeping, in thought.
The next thing is not here now, and so must be next, and so must be deferred and so never.
Never, never next thing.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Interview
Do you run because you love it or because you are afraid?
Both.
Do you find that Crossfit influences other parts of your life?
Insufficiently. For example, the facts of weight and strength distribution, the accomplishment of seemingly insurmountable tasks, the lifting of very heavy things over one's head, one would think that such physical manipulations might lead one to the conclusion that other tasks which are, on the surface, easier to accomplish would seem less daunting, nay! easy, in comparison. But alas, dear readers, this is not the case. Words do not magically appear on the page, nor does time expand and slow, nor does the sun rise earlier or set later. Still, as one who can deadlift and one who can clean AND jerk, one would hope that say, writing a novel would come easily. But nay, it is not to be.
What do you eat?
I eat only the flesh of skinny animals or those that swim or larger animals, but only if they were happy. I eat the apples and the bananas and the shakes that taste like dessert but are really medicine. I eat the eggs and the spinach and the cheese. I eat the yogurt. I eat the honey. I drink the coffee, and yes, it owns me, it is my master, the black elixir that giveth and taketh away the pain.
Where do you see yourself in five years?
There is water and a blue sky. The shine during the day is bright and of the sun; at night, small fires. Sometimes there is wine, often chocolate. During the day, Spanish is spoken and at night there is silence. There are tastes of smoke and the sea, the strong scent of pine and rain.
And what about tomorrow?
Always, I am amazed.
Yesterday?
She said to me, she said, never this and then that, never should, never could have, never no.
What does this word mean?
That word?
And how happiness?
Only there is no doorway, no rooftop, no next. In this, I have seen and know, so it must be.
Well then.
So goodbye.
Both.
Do you find that Crossfit influences other parts of your life?
Insufficiently. For example, the facts of weight and strength distribution, the accomplishment of seemingly insurmountable tasks, the lifting of very heavy things over one's head, one would think that such physical manipulations might lead one to the conclusion that other tasks which are, on the surface, easier to accomplish would seem less daunting, nay! easy, in comparison. But alas, dear readers, this is not the case. Words do not magically appear on the page, nor does time expand and slow, nor does the sun rise earlier or set later. Still, as one who can deadlift and one who can clean AND jerk, one would hope that say, writing a novel would come easily. But nay, it is not to be.
What do you eat?
I eat only the flesh of skinny animals or those that swim or larger animals, but only if they were happy. I eat the apples and the bananas and the shakes that taste like dessert but are really medicine. I eat the eggs and the spinach and the cheese. I eat the yogurt. I eat the honey. I drink the coffee, and yes, it owns me, it is my master, the black elixir that giveth and taketh away the pain.
Where do you see yourself in five years?
There is water and a blue sky. The shine during the day is bright and of the sun; at night, small fires. Sometimes there is wine, often chocolate. During the day, Spanish is spoken and at night there is silence. There are tastes of smoke and the sea, the strong scent of pine and rain.
And what about tomorrow?
Always, I am amazed.
Yesterday?
She said to me, she said, never this and then that, never should, never could have, never no.
What does this word mean?
That word?
And how happiness?
Only there is no doorway, no rooftop, no next. In this, I have seen and know, so it must be.
Well then.
So goodbye.
Monday, October 19, 2009
One of the Sadnesses of Challenge Month
Just now, thinking about making some snack for Son, I became a little heartsick at the thought of not baking things for him...the idea that I can't sit in the breakfast nook with him, eating a homemade cookie and talking about how good they are, knowing I made them, that unlike other cookies, this one had something intangible baked into it, that one of the expressions of feeling is making things, food, for other people. Sadly, much of this food involves flour and sugar.
I know, next month will be different and I can make cookies again, and, more importantly, pie. But just now, just for a minute, I was a little sad.
I know, next month will be different and I can make cookies again, and, more importantly, pie. But just now, just for a minute, I was a little sad.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Quantity vs. Quality
I'm teaching a novel writing class and we are using the No Plot? No Problem! philosophy of shooting for the word count, quality be damned. It's also a kind of variation on Anne Lamott's idea of Shitty First Drafts. Just get it down, you can fix/revise/cut it later.
However.
However, yesterday as I speed-typed my way to 20,000 words (even I, the teacher, am about 4,000 words behind), my novel took a turn for the weird. And by weird, I mean paranormal, maybe, but it could just be first-person delusion. Or, it could have been a weird coincidence. But, my question to you, oh wise and worldly readers, is: do I go with this weird turn? I'm afraid it might mean that when I reach the 50,000 word mark (the goal), that I will have to cut the last half the book and rewrite that.
Or, I could just say, okay, that's weird, but I can rewrite that little chunk later, and go on with the book as if that weird/paranormal/delusional part never happened. (Except I got a good section of description and I could go back and revise it so it's not so important in the overall plot of the book).
My normal philosophy of writing would be to go with it and see where it takes me. I'm worried, however, that this weird turn will make what I am trying to do (an artsy/noir/mystery type thing) into something else (a paranormal mystery/young adult series). Not that the something else is BAD (though it could be terrible) it's just not what I set out to do.
What to do? What to do?
Please help. For now, I'm stuck.
However.
However, yesterday as I speed-typed my way to 20,000 words (even I, the teacher, am about 4,000 words behind), my novel took a turn for the weird. And by weird, I mean paranormal, maybe, but it could just be first-person delusion. Or, it could have been a weird coincidence. But, my question to you, oh wise and worldly readers, is: do I go with this weird turn? I'm afraid it might mean that when I reach the 50,000 word mark (the goal), that I will have to cut the last half the book and rewrite that.
Or, I could just say, okay, that's weird, but I can rewrite that little chunk later, and go on with the book as if that weird/paranormal/delusional part never happened. (Except I got a good section of description and I could go back and revise it so it's not so important in the overall plot of the book).
My normal philosophy of writing would be to go with it and see where it takes me. I'm worried, however, that this weird turn will make what I am trying to do (an artsy/noir/mystery type thing) into something else (a paranormal mystery/young adult series). Not that the something else is BAD (though it could be terrible) it's just not what I set out to do.
What to do? What to do?
Please help. For now, I'm stuck.
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