Watching > To Wong Foo Thanks For Everything, Love Julie Newmar
Drinking > ice water
Alive. Funny how often I must reassure this.
The Colorado flood hit where I live + knocked out my wi-fi. Wasn’t a fun experience tied in w/ the cabin fever of being landlocked into the house for far too many days. Laptop went a little haywire for a bit too, which has delayed writing quite a bit. Right now I’m working on the final edit of From Safety to Where for Roms, Bombs and Zoms to send in tomorrow (a little dialogue work, since I’ve finished the edits + corrections).
Deadlines sneaked up on me to where I’m scrambling. I want to get End of All Days done in four days, edited + sent in. It’s too large of an opportunity to miss out on. It’s been strange b/c I’ve gotten a slew of signs, but suddenly my main character clammed up on me. Now I need to drag her out, kicking + screaming if I have to.
There’s a few other small deadlines of some good chances to get my writing out there, but not the end of the world if it doesn’t work. I started work on a short story called Oblivion, it is also due in four days. I need to buckle down + take a page out of a dear friend’s notebook on working to the bone on a project.
In the morning I need to doll up, head over to the DMV + take care of getting an official Colorado license. Later I need to do some weeding in the front yard for an hour or more. Somehow I need to get some time to spit out some writing. It’s a rare day off of work for the first time in a week. There’s organizing to get done, crafts + even more.
I’m finding that work emotionally drains me w/ the ups + downs, never knowing if I’m in a good place or not. Trying to find a new job, something more substantial where I’m not worn or ripped apart emotionally by the end of the day. Somewhere that I can move up a little bit. Paying jobs are never easy, I realize + I am not afraid of hard work. I do the work, but get so little recognition it is frustrating + then all the negatives are primarily focused on. I am sick of spinning my wheels w/ a department manager who changes moods so inconsistently that I get massive whiplash. It’s so disheartening.
Half the time I wonder what in the hell I’m doing, trying to make art + writing as a career. I know it’s a tough road + it’s the whole reason I repelled from it for so many years. There’s nothing else that would make me happy though. Work has been draining me of my creativity to the degree where I even rarely produce any art. It just isn’t coming to me + I’m thinking it’s all the stress. It’s to the point where I’m barely eating much + losing my appetite too. I need to apply myself more, but it’s again, very disheartening. Haven’t touched my story collection in a while either, then NaNoWriMo is approaching too. I might have to skip out on NaNoWriMo 2013.
More later. Will try to update more often.
(IMAGES: Monty Python’s Flying Circus, Charade, Once Upon A Time)