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Two Days In
Jan. 2nd, 2014 01:25 pmGot my period the same night 2014 began, which maybe explains why I slept about...three and a half hours. The fact that we knew we had to get up and go over to Mom's friend Jodi's for brunch didn't help. Mom spent the whole time trying to solve my obvious problem(s) in the moment, which (funnily enough) wasn't exactly going to work, given I couldn't go to a doctor, check out potential sleep aids or really do much of anything else until we finally emerge from this endless fucking holiday season. "Listen," I said, at once point. "Am I uncomfortable? Yes. I'm very uncomfortable. Am I unhappy? Not inordinately so. I can take it. And I'm sorry that's not good enough, but it's going to have to do."
Today is better. I slept too long, and Steve's back at work, and it's cold as shit (minus 17 outside, feeling like minus 27 with windchill), but it's still better. Cal isn't screaming and singing every five seconds, and I have some potential hope of actually doing work. We made amazing progress on reorganizing our storage space (just sorting and culling over twenty bags of old DVD boxes freed up an incredible amount of space, and we also put aside five boxes of books to try and sell over the weekend). Last night, I actually cooked for the first time in what seems like weeks. And this morning I found out that my story "A Wish From a Bone" is going to take the top slot in the Ellen Datlow's Fearful Symmetries TOC, which rocks hard, especially considering some of the other authors involved.
Fuck, will I be happy to get back to some semblance of normalcy next week, though. Steve and I have aired out some longstanding issues, and he's been really great these last few days--not one digestive incident, extremely responsive to requests for support, far less absent or tired all the time. But while AfterChristmas in general may not quite have been the "flaming bag of shit" I described it to my core trainer as, in a very depressed moment, it's still been jam-packed with a sort of overwhelming sense of anxiety about requirement to perform; whenever we're stuck in this kind of endless down-time, this unstructured, unscheduled blankspace, I end up feeling as though I'm always being watched, monitored, constantly called on to be available as Cal's gatekeeper (for Mom, in specific). I need to get back to me, at least as far as scheduling allows for, and i need to not feel guilty about that.
Two stories pending by the end of January that have to be spined and developed, plus a fresh new synopsis for Experimental Film. I'm getting very good ideas about the latter, too...for example, I think I'm not going to try and organize it into chapters, at least not in the beginning. I thinking I'm just going to put it in a series of files, and see how that goes--like a statement, a piece routed in emotional truth and real memory, but about wholly fictional events. Which is what it should be.
Okay. Back to it.
Today is better. I slept too long, and Steve's back at work, and it's cold as shit (minus 17 outside, feeling like minus 27 with windchill), but it's still better. Cal isn't screaming and singing every five seconds, and I have some potential hope of actually doing work. We made amazing progress on reorganizing our storage space (just sorting and culling over twenty bags of old DVD boxes freed up an incredible amount of space, and we also put aside five boxes of books to try and sell over the weekend). Last night, I actually cooked for the first time in what seems like weeks. And this morning I found out that my story "A Wish From a Bone" is going to take the top slot in the Ellen Datlow's Fearful Symmetries TOC, which rocks hard, especially considering some of the other authors involved.
Fuck, will I be happy to get back to some semblance of normalcy next week, though. Steve and I have aired out some longstanding issues, and he's been really great these last few days--not one digestive incident, extremely responsive to requests for support, far less absent or tired all the time. But while AfterChristmas in general may not quite have been the "flaming bag of shit" I described it to my core trainer as, in a very depressed moment, it's still been jam-packed with a sort of overwhelming sense of anxiety about requirement to perform; whenever we're stuck in this kind of endless down-time, this unstructured, unscheduled blankspace, I end up feeling as though I'm always being watched, monitored, constantly called on to be available as Cal's gatekeeper (for Mom, in specific). I need to get back to me, at least as far as scheduling allows for, and i need to not feel guilty about that.
Two stories pending by the end of January that have to be spined and developed, plus a fresh new synopsis for Experimental Film. I'm getting very good ideas about the latter, too...for example, I think I'm not going to try and organize it into chapters, at least not in the beginning. I thinking I'm just going to put it in a series of files, and see how that goes--like a statement, a piece routed in emotional truth and real memory, but about wholly fictional events. Which is what it should be.
Okay. Back to it.
