Ha ha, bet my post title made you think it was going to be all emo, huh. 🙂
I am trying to motivate myself… trying to get myself excited… and mostly, I am just EXHAUSTED. I feel extremely worn out, especially when I think about adding 1,667 words of fiction to my daily checklist.
I’ve got a story. Not only do I have a story, but I have an INTENDED AUDIENCE (always important for me), a general sense of plot, some characters, and a goal. Now I just need to fall in love with it.
These past few days I’ve been doodling thoughts and snatches of conversation in a little notebook, in the hopes of fanning a flame. Not much luck so far. I’m thinking that what I really need is just to start writing, that once I begin it’ll take care of itself.
I do NOT intend to blog my novel this year, at least not until it is finished (which ties into that “goal” thing – namely, “I want to write this as a gift for someone, and if I post it online it will be spoilt” (and yes, I said “spoilt” instead of “spoiled,” because that’s just how I roll, IN DOUBLE PARENTHESES)) so… yeah. Tough luck for the two and a half of you who care.
I am not entirely sure that I have the emotional/mental fortitude to meet my goal this year. There’s a lot weighing on me, and while I’d like to believe (as is oft recommended in NaNoLand) that I could channel all of that stuff into my writing, I doubt it’s going to work that way. The opposite danger, of course, is that I find in my story such excellent escapism that I drop some of these other brittle globes that I’m juggling…
From today’s daily poem, “On the Wards” by Rafael Campo:
…I look at you remorselessly,
the way I hope that someday I am seen,
the way each one deserves to be imagined,
and wonder at your astonishing beauty.
Probably shouldn’t make me think of Scrubs, but it does. Not the silly moments – the moments where it all gets serious.
This poem, David Kirby’s “My Favorite Foreign Language,” made me smile. An excerpt:
“What’s your favorite foreign language?” asks the cabbie,
and when I ask why, he says he knows “butterfly”
in 241 of them, so I say, “Okay, French!” and he says,
“Papillon!” and I say, “German!” and he says, “Schmetterling!”
and I’m running out of languages I know…
from Angie Hogan’s “Apologia at Clinchfield Yards”
Slowly but surely I am making the house pretty. It’s hard because I have no time and because I struggle with indecisiveness when it comes to hanging pictures… which is stupid, because it’s not as through I’m tearing down walls, it’s just a nail for Pete’s sake, but I still suck at it.
Anyway, I recently put together a couple of things and thought I’d show them off. These pics are lousy because I took them at 9:30 at night, and the lighting was atrocious, but there you have it.
Below is the “sitting nook” in the master bedroom. You already know the story of the blue armchairs; the little glass sculptures (actually candleholders!) were a thrift store find, and Mom found the lamp on clearance at Target. The marble side table was made by Ryan’s grandfather.
The painting on the wall is “Master Bedroom” by Andrew Wyeth. In 2006 I went to Atlanta alone to present a paper at the annual international convention for the Society for Ethnomusicology. I spent a free afternoon at the High Museum of Art and stumbled upon the brand new Andrew Wyeth: Memory and Magic exhibit, where – perhaps feeling a bit lonely and homesick – I found and fell in love with “Master Bedroom.” Five years later, I found a print at Hobby Lobby 50% off and brought it home with me.
Last weekend, I went to IKEA for the first time, and we bought some lamps for the bedroom. (I am officially entirely in love with their lighting section!) We wanted something tall to add some height to the bed, which has a very low headboard, and we wanted something with nice clear light for reading. These HOLMÖ lamps are technically floor lamps, but we put them on our nightstands (which are technically dorm room ottomans from Target, but who’s counting?) to add height.
Both of the blankets at the foot of the bed are from IKEA. We got the pictures from TJ Maxx on our anniversary; I should probably get a close-up of those. They’re super cute.
One of my first goals with my new sewing machine (wait! I haven’t told you about my sewing machine!) is to make some non-white pillow shams, and maybe eventually graduate to some curtains… although with the cost of fabric, it’d probably be cheaper just to buy a couple of panels… It’s tough, because I don’t want to do a lot of messing with the walls (i.e., installing curtain rods) in a rental. Then again, we’re hoping to be here for several years, so maybe it’s okay.
Not sure whether to be amused or annoyed… take a look at that second picture. Right before I took it, Paisley had stampeded across the bed and jumped off. I’d re-posed her, taken the picture, uploaded it, and shared on Facebook before I noticed the trail of indented footprints across the bedspread. STOP MESSING UP MY BETTER HOMES AND GARDENS PHOTO SHOOTS, PAISLEY. Also, this picture was supposed to have both critters in it, but d’Artagnan decided that the camera strap was his mortal enemy and hid under the bed. So I guess, in a manner of speaking, he’s kind of in the picture… 🙂
I love crazy quilts, and I love “Crazy Quilt” by Tess Taylor:
….Tonight she sliced our mother’s raw silk saris.
Dark ribbons bloomed and I admired
her fierce concentration to resettle
all her scraps at staggered angles,
the way her body stores her making,
how she destroys each thing she’s salvaged
to harvest it as her exploding star.
From “Happiness” by Elisabeth Frost, which made me nod in acknowledgement of a great truth:
Now say I want to say to you happiness.
No motive. Nothing behind it.
Just the awareness of a valve suddenly opened and—