Tag: attitude

Whetting Desire

There was no warning of what was about to happen.

The other and I jumped into the car. Directing it onto the Interstate, we sped to another town for two days and a night of dining elsewhere, shopping, reading and relaxing. Our mini-vacation choice puzzled friends, but that’s life. Being out there, though, staying in a hotel, reading and eating at restaurants without any damn cares whet my desire for more of that life.

My wife felt it, too. “Wouldn’t it be great to just keep driving and go to another town, stay another night?”

Yep, it sure would.

Meanwhile —

I was writing yesterday, working on the novel in progress. It was a fabulous writing day. I jumped right into that writing and editing phase after some deep thinking and writing in my head that took place while driving and shopping the day before. Terribly rewarding, it whet my appetite to spend my hours doing nothing but writing and drinking coffee.

Suddenly — 

I read about Bertha, the TBM. Some quick pedantic explanation: a TBM is a tunnel boring machine. Bertha was the one used in Seattle in the tunnel construction to replace the Alaska Way Viaduct. The A.W.V. had been damaged in the six point eight magnitude earthquake in two thousand one. Bertha had just completed its part, breaking out of the earth and into its disassembly area.

The article whet my appetite for big endeavors like digging a tunnel. I wished I’d pursued an engineering degree. Then I might have been part of amazing projects like this.

I must admit, too, the child residing just under my skin said, “Bertha. Bertha Butt. One of the Butt Sisters.” Recognize it? It’s just how my infantile mind makes connections.

But then, without warning — 

I watched the first episode of American Gods again. Suddenly, I wanted to watch the next one, right now. Then I watched the Handmaid’s Tale. It whet my appetite for more, as did Red Rock when I watched its episodes.

It just seems to be one of those periods. I’m restless, excited and energetic. Life and its demands feels like a straitjacket. Time plods along, and impatience snaps a whip. Everything whets my appetite for more, now.

But, alas —

I know this period will shift. Maybe I just slept more, so I feel more rested and have more energy. My Fitbit claims I slept seven and a half hours, an hour more than my usual. Perhaps this energy and mood is the product of my dreams when I slept. They all seemed empowering…from what I remember….

Regardless —

Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

I know exactly where to begin today.

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Apologies, Universe

Well, universe,

Here I am again. I was a little hard on you in Spiteful Stuff yesterday. I guess I was disappointed because I thought I was your favorite. I was hurt, and I ranted.

Since, I’ve had time to consider the entire situation. Sure, I still believe you were a little spiteful. Perhaps I was being ungrateful and taking you for granted, and you were mad about that. If so, forgive me. After all, as I think about it, the visit with family was enjoyable. The house didn’t burn down in my absence, and no catastrophes were reported among the feline population. The United flights, while wrecked by creeping delays, were not disastrous. We’re alive and well. You did take care of me.

So, my apologies. I hope this episode is in our rear view mirrors. Maybe we can get together and have a beer or cup of coffee or tea, or a glass of wine.

Please let me know. Cheers

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Embrace

Embrace the cold to feel alive.

Embrace your uncertainty to work harder.

Embrace your fears to find your courage.

Embrace your doubts to push onward.

Embrace your successes to do more.

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Between the Cracks

It may be the time,

the energy,

or the intentions,

or the hope.

It might just be the words or the dreams.

But you notice it slipping away,

through the cracks in the space of your life.

It’s the little things, at first.

Then you notice that much of it that you took for granted as yours has gone.

You never noticed the cracks.

You saw that it was two thousand.

Then it was twenty ten, twenty eleven.

Now it’s twenty seventeen.

It was January. Now it’s April.

Today, you order yourself, searching for the words and motivations in the cracks.

Today!

Before more is lost to the cracks,

today, you will write with abandonment.

Today, you will write like crazy.

At least one more time.

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Dreams of Resistance

New, powerful dreams swept in to replace the soul-dragging sprawl of dreams endured my previous three nights. Now I was once again enabled and empowered. Confident in my understanding of what had happened and what needed to happen, I began installing order on others in my dream.

In one of the dreams, someone who was in charge and outranked me began chastising me for some bizarre local rule. I’d taken my boots off. As punishment, he’d stolen in, taken my boots, wrapped them up in a package and hid them. Now revealing what he’d done, he began lecturing about their rules and procedures in a galling pedantic manner. I gathered from his ridiculing subtext that he thought he would emasculate me and put me in my place.

I didn’t accept the situation. I waited until he finished. Then I politely replied, “But I just arrived here this morning, hours ago. I think you should have set up an immediate orientation for me to know what was going on, if you want me to know your rules and follow them. Otherwise, you would just playing a silly game of ‘gotcha’.”

A person beside me leaned over and whispered, “Right on,” in my dream. Two other dreams from last night were of the same ilk, encouraging me to stand up for myself. Together, the three instilled greater confidence in me. It’s a wonderful sensation to awaken with the belief I know what I’m supposed to do and will do it.

Happy Tuesday, writers!

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Dreams of Ineptness

What a night of dreams. Given scales of one to ten, where ten is the highest, these dreams were around eights on the vividness and intensity scales. They left me feeling emotionally, mentally and physically exhausted. Dreams of these types trigger speculation that I’m living in the dreams, and the dreams are the reality. So while I’ve been here, living with all of its entanglements and needs, I’ve actually been asleep there. Once I awaken there, I experience that life through my dreams.

Makes sense. In the dreams, I was bewildered about what was going on and expectations for me. Everyone liked me. Nobody was concerned about me. I was just there, part of the landscape. It was an incoherent landscape. Some others and I were in the back interior of a giant parked 1982 Camaro. It was so large, we were standing and moving around without being encumbered. Things were sometimes written on the car’s immense rear hatch window. But I knew I wasn’t doing what I was supposed to be doing. Fueled by guilt, anxiety burned through me. I was going to be found out at any moment. 

Leaving the Camaro, I raced around in a covert frenzy, attempting to cover my tracks and do what I was supposed to be doing all along. The office made no sense. Everything had been moved outside. Meanwhile, new instructions were being introduced. I struggled to stay abreast of the new ideas. I was supposed to be understanding this stuff, using it and explaining it to others. I had little idea of what was going on.

I sought out the people in charge and the files. The files were supposed to be locked up. I didn’t know the combination. One of those in charge confessed to me that the locks didn’t work. They were a facade. She laughed as she explained this. As I tried catching up on my tasks and correct everything, I began learning through intimate encounters with others, nobody else knew what was going on. It was chaos with a veneer of normalcy and knowledge. Nobody else was doing it correctly. Most barely understood what I talked about and laughed when I mentioned it. A series of giggling confessions were shared with me to that end.

Understanding that I wasn’t going to be discovered because I was an inept fraud, I began relaxing. My errors and shortcomings weren’t going to be discovered because everyone else had shortcomings and were making errors. None of them cared about it.

Writing about them, I chortle with insight. Ah, yes, the classic dreams of inadequacy and our latent, perpetual fears of being exposed as a fraud. Do writers ever experience anything like this? I suppose not. Most writers are powerhouses of security and self-confidence.

I should just move on. I would, but I feel too tired. I need to sleep to recover from my dreams.

Now there’s a metaphor if I’ve ever read one.

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Opening Doors

“Every now and then one paints a picture that seems to have opened a door and serves as a stepping stone to other things.”
― Pablo Picasso

This quote was on Ed Lehming’s blog post, ‘The Breach’, today. The quote’s truth stormed me about other endeavors besides painting. I’d been thinking about this last night without Picasso’s quote, so I love the serendipity. I’d been thinking about how I will have been working on something, struggling to learn, understand or achieve, and then suddenly, everything lines up like a solved Rubik’s Cube. I’d done it many times in my life, facing the need to learn something and then struggling until it happens.

rubix_cube

Writing fiction is probably the greatest stretch for me. This struggle to learn happens with different elements with fiction writing. Writing is thought of as simple by many. What’s there to do but write words and tell a story?

Writers, editors and good readers understand that’s a simplistic summary. Fiction writing requires learning multiple pieces that are often taken for granted because most people only see the finished work. We know better. Sometimes the lessons learned about pacing, characters, story-telling, voice and everything else needs learned anew when writing the next project. Contemplating that, I believe that each novel or story in progress has a moment when a door opens, and the scene being worked becomes a stepping stone to other things.

It doesn’t come easily. The challenge remains to muster the focus, apply the time and energy, and accept the patience needed for me to reach the door, find and open it. These elements of focus, time, energy and acceptance are typically thought of on a conscious level. I think they work better on a subconscious level. I let the needs seep down in. Walk away. Do other things.

Eventually, the focus, time, and energy finds the path to the door. That’s a glorious exciting epiphany when the door is suddenly there. Another challenge arises then to open it and see what’s on the other side.

Within this process is the beauty of acceptance, of letting it work, of being strong and bold enough to believe it will work. It takes time. This time and patience is invaluable coin. When it works and the door opens and I step through, I create a positive loop of knowing I can face problems and challenges, and overcome them. That feeds me confidence to try again, and again and again, and to keep going. More, though, my journey becomes richer, more joyful and satisfying.

It really is a beautiful process, these exercises in imagination and creativity called writing.

Yes, I know, it’s a messy post, all over the place. I’m exploring territory. Writing helps me map the terrain.

To all, have a good writing day.

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Anyday and Everyday

Everyday has a feel. Lot of that feel is conditioned into us by work and school. It’s hard to shed the feel.

Today is Thursday but feels like Friday. I could blame it on my friends. Fifteen of us met last night and hoisted a few beers. I enjoyed the Caldera Brewing Pilot Rock Porter, a most excellent beverage. I had two point five points so I don’t believe that’s the problem with today.

I worked and exercised, of course. Walked six miles, which is about my average, so no great shakes there. Had roasted veggie pizza for dinner. I don’t think that’s the problem nor why today feels like Friday.

No, I believe my problem resides with less than sufficient sleep. The Fitbit reports I had less than six and a half hours. For that, I blame the cats.

The four of them seemed very very. I don’t know what – very very catish? They ate their food and wanted more. They were inside and wanted out. Then, OMG, it’s cold outside, LET ME IN! Hearing the others, they would present a need to go investigate to see what HE’s up to without knowing who HE is. The four are male cats, felines who wandered in from the streets and declared our house is their house. Each has one issue or another.

My wife claims a big problem is that they’re all males, full of themselves and territorial. “It would be different if one of them was a female. Cats are matriarchal. A female would create some order.”

She could be right but I’m not getting a fifth cat to prove it. There is a fifth, a female. Pepper lives next door but loves our front porch and hangs out there about twelve hours out of a twenty-four hour period. She doesn’t seem to be establishing any order. Her only thought to order is, “Hey, hey, hey, give me something to eat. Hey, hey.” And I do because cats have established mind control over me.

So it feels like Friday because I feel tired. I’m ready for the weekend even though the weekend has no concrete meaning for me. It’s just Saturday after Friday, and Sunday after Saturday, and the day before Monday. Other than the spelling of the days and the hours of some businesses, they’re all Anyday and Everyday.

Okay, rant over. Got my mocha. Tastes awesome. Another sip or two and I’ll be ready to write like crazy, at least one more time. I’ll see where the story takes me.

I just realized that in the space of my future, there are no days of the week. It’s all Anyday and Everyday.

Imagine that.

2

Swinging Pendulum

Yesterday I awoke bitter, depressed, angry, and deeply enthralled with the dark side. Today, the pendulum has swung the other way. I’m optimistic, energetic, hopeful and happy.

I’m pleased this iteration of the dark period quickly ended. Perhaps the dream about cleaning, or the thinking about the dream, was a catalyst to regaining positive energy.

Something to think about.

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A Year

It’s been a year since I collected my last IBM paycheck.

I expected a lot of changes in that year. I’ve been disappointed.

One bitter reason for wanting to leave IBM was my unhappiness of how callously we were treated as individuals. That’s my perception. Others may not share it. The work had become routine and boring. I was rarely engaged, and my circle of involvement seemed to be shrinking. So, I was receiving less validation that I was worthwhile to the company or that anyone there appreciated my work or efforts. Hence, I wanted to leave. When they offered me the choice, I took it.

Yet, being freed from employment didn’t do anything to enhance my sense of validation. If anything, the solitary habits I employ and my social awkwardness remain, so I’m just as out there on my own now as I was when I was employed, and experience even less evaluation. It’s tested my strength and determination.

I thought my writing career would take off. It hasn’t. I didn’t appreciate the hard work required to not just prepare a book to publish but also to market. I naively thought, “If I write it, they will come.”

My year of being unemployed, the first since I was seventeen, taught me how much I require structure, goals and a vision to keep me moving forward. I’ve been forced to re-evaluate what I’d established in the past that helped me succeed, and create new structures, goals and a vision. That’s all still in progress. I also needed to educate myself more about the writing business, something also underway. Frankly, it’s wearying.

In thinking about all of this, I resolved, “I will do better.” It’s a big poster in my mind, glowing at me all the time. “I will do better.”

Today’s writing session is finished. I only wrote about fifteen hundred words and edited some. The novel is becoming hugely busy. I reached the point that I felt like a puppet master getting entangled in his puppets’ strings. Pacing across the coffee shop with impatience and frustration, I gazed out the window and recognized, I need to stop today. Regroup and marshal my energies and intentions to proceed. It’s a complex novel, with complicated plots and societies, set in the future, with unique words, and yada, yada, yada.

Those of you who write will totally understand.

 

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