It’s Monday and the world’s gone white. Fog has descended on Rotterdam, fog so thick even the lights across the street can’t cut through. I am itching to read my comments today; my ego must need feeding. Days like this I insist on writing first. No kowtowing to my id. I’ve a few new followers today: welcome to my morning madness. Feels good to be noticed, so thanks to all of you.
That sensation is being balanced out by a nagging sense of my being a complete MORON. I just got the third email (third! crap!) from the ‘zine publishing my story. Seems the JPEGs I’ve been sending don’t work on their side, and I just had a very polite message telling me I had to get the attachment at the end of the email, not in the middle. Jeez Louise! Maybe I can write a little but I sure as fuck don’t know nuttin’ about tech. It’s not so much that I feel I can’t learn it. I could, if I put my mind to it. I just don’t wanna. So my ‘not wanna’ today is making me feel like a right idiot. That’s a feeling I should remember. Maybe it’ll help me kick my own butt into trying a bit more with language.
So this is THE WEEK. The week it’s all starting: language classes, my brother’s new schedule and therefore my own new schedule so I can stay a step ahead of everything. Between the two of us, we’ve got something going on every single day. He’s beginning some martial arts classes at a new dojo that’s opened up near us. They’re taking him on as a challenge; an adult ADHD with serious physical problems. For now, he’ll be getting private lessons. I’m so jealous! Not that I’m in the mind set or physical shape to take up martial arts again (did it in my 20s and broke boards and all that). But I do envy that one on one instruction. I’m super happy for him, of course. He’ll be getting physical exercise AND close interaction with people who’ll help him with his general social anxiety, which is VERY high, plus a little help with Dutch now and then.
Speaking of Dutch, yep, we’re in. Class is Friday at (gasp) 8:45 a.m. From now on, language is gonna be weird. I’m already wanting to use simple Dutch words when I play Scrabble on my computer. Now it’s just gonna get worse. We’re also scheduled to show up at a computer class on Wednesday mornings. Add in my swimming and that’s 4 mornings out of 7 I’ll be away from my computer screen. Eeeek! I’m having withdrawal symptoms and it hasn’t even started.
As for withdrawal symptoms, this past illness has allowed me to kick my evening coffee fix. Just rode that caffeine headache through the sickness so I didn’t even notice. That’s very cool, and my doctors should be happy (if they blow it off I’m gonna stop them, tell them it was a BFD, and MAKE them be happy about it). My smoking is cut down by more than half, which is also good providing I don’t allow myself to just fall back into sucking away every damned minute of every damned day. That one isn’t so easy. I keep reaching for the half-finished J – there ALWAYS seems to be a half finished J – in my ashtray, then pulling my hand back and thinking ‘no, not yet, wait another 15 minutes’. Keep doing that and pretty soon those 15 minutes have added up to a few hours, and suddenly it’ll be two in the afternoon and I won’t have smoked at all yet. But it’s getting past those 15 minutes in the first place that’s a bitch right now. I wanna smoke. Smoke, smoke, smoke. Trying to keep myself right on that edge, you know? Just this side of horrendous bitch because she’s trying to quit smoking mode. Not easy, as I feel bitchy without a continual toke going.
I tried to tackle a story yesterday and spent an hour typing and retyping one paragraph. I thought maybe something had finished cooking in my brain and I just hadn’t taken the time to get it out of the oven. Nope. Everything is still gooey, still without substance and flow. Great sentences but they went nowhere. My characters just stood at the side of the road and I could not think of what to do with them next. Damn them, anyway. I hate it when my characters just stand there and look at me. Don’t they already know what they should do? I like it when stories play out in my mind. Then all I do is write down what I see. It’s almost like I don’t have to think at all. Right now my head feels like it’s in a cul de sac, circling around and around. Same scenarios haunting me but I haven’t found the way out yet. Well, put that car into park for now. It’ll come.
Been taking baby steps with this new music platform, too. Of course I want it done yesterday, which makes me feel like I’m just moving too slow no matter how fast I go. First things first. Trying to sort out some graphics to use because I ain’t gonna let anybody know it’s me. And then what do I write about myself? Ugh. Have to go out and read some other people’s stuff so I get a feel for what’s being doing. I know it’s gonna be a crowing spot. I’ve done this and this and that, don’t you want to work with me now? FUCK no! Credentials haven’t drawn me in since I was 12, so it’s fucking hard to write anything for myself. I’m tempted to downplay my history. Acknowledge it briefly but not make a big deal about it. It’s gonna be the music that sells, not me. Stop looking at me. I’m nothing.
For the record: just lit up that half J in my ashtray. That’s a full hour of consciousness before firing up! I’m gonna feel good about that. Before this, I’d have already smoked my first J by now and I’d be rolling a second. Keep it up, woman. Cutting back will help your health AND your pocketbook, and since those are your two big bitch points these days it all seems to work out for the best, right? And my mind says grrrr…..