Writer's Pain

I think of all the things there are to do in this world and I shrink in upon myself in a small ball and peek out from one of the air holes to see if anything will inspire me to do one of them. So far very little budges me from my cozy nest.

Possibly fear ties me in cords tighter than the weather, which I use as my excuse to avoid life. I do gain a bit of life around spring, but that is months away. Books save me. They send me out into worlds without end and enable me to live even though it is vicariously.

Then there is the social media which allows me to be bright and cheerful from my computer keyboard without actually speaking to another person for weeks on end. I can read all about what others are doing and feel quite busy doing so--without myself doing a thing.

However, my newest form of escapism can be found in texting.  Yes, my phone now has the feature and I step outside my comfort zone and text. It empowers me! I have communicated with another being. I've put myself out there and wait anxiously for a reply. It is so frightening.

How did I reach this condition? Did I all of a sudden wake up one morning with it?

No, I think it was more gradual than that. First I began to ignore family designed events. The next love to go was music. I dearly loved to perform, and participate in many musical events. Then my voice deserted me and my children in choirs and musicals grew up and moved on. I grew out of the habit of going to musical events because I didn't want to go alone and I was afraid to ask anyone to go with me, or when I did ask, no one else wanted to go.

Yes, I think that is how it all began. I haven't been to a movie in over two years. That all started because I got cold in the theater. Then there weren't many movies that I could attend without sitting uncomfortably close to strangers. Last to go was matinees. Now I rent it or I don't see it.

Last of all to go is my writing. I spent three years pouring out my skill and imagination for stories that were to wing their way into the world and give me new friends and fans. Somehow that didn't happen through no fault of my own. I don't want to go into the heartbreak of it, but I haven't been able to do much since. It seems like I was pierced with the sword of disappointment and I never recovered.

There are bright spots in my exile. I am surrounded my family. My five children, and their children, strive to make me feel loved. They drag me out to watch kids and family events. They call often to keep me up to date on what is going on in their lives. My husband takes me on a date once a week. This breaks me out of my self-imposed prison at least.

I wonder how people climb out of such a place, and ask myself if I ever will. If you ever have, climbed out, I mean, I would love to hear from you about how you did it.

Falling

I'm just not ready yet. Summer didn't come until too late this year. I haven't had my fill of hot days, summer storms, the smell of hot tarmac, bees buzzing around my flowers, and all the thousand and one things that compose summer. I think I'll go to Xanadu.

The calendar says that summer is nearly over, and school has even dared to start and take all my interesting grandchildren away from their play. It's my favorite thing to sit and watch their freedom and expression as they play outdoors.

My new granddaughter is born and home from the hospital. What a delight it is to watch her brother and sisters swarm around and take delight in her newness. We had a little scare with her going to NICU after being born, but all is well as long as she keeps eating. Alexis is too sedate a name for her right now, I'll have to think up something . . .

Tomorrow I'm watching two of my girls. Kaydie is into everything. I think she likes to make a mess better than anything else. At least her big sister Sydnie will play and pretty much entertain herself. They are both sweet little girls. Kaydie is just about ready to walk. That isn't surprising considering she's nearly one.

One of the things I must put on my to do list is develop a thicker skin. I don't know why I let the silly, hurtful things people do get to me so much. Maybe I should stop reading my reviews?? Oh well, most of them were nice. A rotten one shouldn't spoil the whole barrel for me. I'll keep telling myself that.

The storm outside tonight is a lazy one. Last night's storm was much more spectacular. The play of lightening is fun to watch as long as it doesn't touch anything. I automatically count the seconds after the flash every time until the thunder rolls.

Ron is already in bed. He had a long tiring day. The house is too quiet. I think that's why I started this blog. At least I can hear the clacking of my fingers on the keyboard. Tomorrow I have to work again, oh blessed work.

I'm hoping my car will last a few months longer. It keeps dying. I think it has an electrical problem. It bums me out that I don't dare take it on longer trips--like to my daughter's house. I miss my daughters who live far away.

Thank Thee for the sun so bright, glad I made it through the night.

Thank Thee for the birds that sing--in the trees, and birds on wing.

Thanks for grandkids, please give me more,

And thanks for flowers outside my door.

Thank Thee for Ron my husband king,

Thank Thee God for everything.

Help, I'm surrounded by obsessive compulsives. This wouldn't be so terrible if it weren't for one unchangeable fact. I am an extremely laid back person. I am happy watching life pass by on its endless parade.
Why is it then that I fell in love with my exact opposite, and why on earth did he fall for me? The result of our love was five fantastic children four of which took after him, okay, make that all five.
There isn't one of them who sympathizes with my ideas. I sometimes feel that I have a small shadow following me around. I sit down a drinking glass and it disappears. I lay down a book I'm reading, open at my spot, and I find it placed back on my desk firmly shut.
My reference books get put back on the shelf, my shoes get put away and I can't find them, my cupboards, closets, bookshelves, oh well, you get the idea. I haven't seen my purple umbrella since 2006.
I have concluded that while I thrive on a little clutter, my extreme opposites can't stand it. I really do feel sorry for them. They have taken on an impossible task with an unobtainable goal. They all regard me as their ultimate project. I could clean better, be better organized, exercise more efficiently, look better, get healthier, make instant decisions, and above all---eat right.
No one, and this includes my grandchildren, except maybe Jake, shares my enthusiasm for "let it be". They all want to know how I can function as I am.
The answer is, "Very well, thank you." Sigh. That doesn't suffice.
From time to time I catch the spirit of their vast organizational skills and I make an effort to impress them. To my delight I've managed to do it once or twice. Most of the time, however, I just can't be bothered with the triviality of it all.
I'm not saying that my counterparts have it easy with me, I live in a daydream a great deal of the time, and my mind is elsewhere creating worlds, etc. I'm just saying that each side has a point of view. Right now I'm making a case for my side.
What's so bad about seeing the sunny side? Isn't there an interesting pattern to be found in clutter? Can't you read a person who surrounds themselves with meaningful stuff?
When you come into my special spot you can see that I love to read by all the books piled up. You can see that I love birds, rocks, and my Savior, not necessarily in that order by all the evidence I keep around me. My work window is enormous, not so that it can distract me, but so that the sights can inspire me. I babysit my daughter's geranium every winter, and right now it resides beside me on my table so it can drink in what little sunlight comes through. It is laden with huge deep red blossums. When it's warm enough it will travel to her yard to brighten her life outdoors.
Leaves drop off and leave a red stain on the table until I get out the little vaccum and suck them up. I like to see them there on the table. It makes me think of another planet where all the leaves are red, or shuffling through a forest on a fall day.
Dust is another example. Did you know that laying things down in dust leaves interesting patterns on it? Circles from pennies, dimes and quarters are easily recognized. Then when the surface is wiped clean it presents another aspect of interest and delight.
I guess I'm trying to say that I smell the roses--each and every one. I savor every moment and find likeable things like handprints in a dusting of flour, or designs in children's scribbles on my favorite writing pad. I'm glad I'm surrounded by my compulsive family. They at least keep me from total chaos, but cut me some slack, clan. I'm living for the moment.

My heart feels like it is torn to shreds. Before we were in such close correspondence with the world at large terrible events still happened, but we didn't know. Now that we know all that is taking place everywhere, on almost a daily basis, our hearts are wrenched every which way.

My prayers go out to Japan. Then there is the California coast, and all the other places in between. How about poor Australia? Further back, Haiti, and Louisiana. It seems that all over disasters keep inundating our world. The poet John Donne said that every man's death diminshes me. He didn't have nearly the death toll to absorb that we have today. When I ponder it all, I feel wraithish.

The feeling that most overwhelms me though is helplessness. If only I could go give everyone a big hug and a helping hand. My paltry dollars won't help anyone much. However, my prayers will continue to fly upward. It's the least I can do.

Whatever happened to days when you could lay down on the floor and spread out the Sunday funny papers for an hour of laughs? Who can afford all the papers? Anyway, Sundays now are filled with church, after church activities, catching up with everyone's blogs, writing your own, reading the news, writing, calling, or chating up family, and making sure you're up to date with whatever online social network you subscribed.
I'm at the time in my life when so many things have disappeared and so many other things are new, that my head whirls trying to keep up with it all. I used to think--nothing after that, just thoughts. I could report on what kind of clouds were in the sky, which way the wind was blowing, and how warm the sun was on my face. Now I consult weatherbug.
Without my consent I seemed to have given up window shopping, long walks, long reads at night, sitting out on the porch, and watching for sunsets. I used to have time to be bored. Being bored meant I had to get out the picture albums, or doodle, or invent a new recipe.
When did I stop spending time thinking about stories? The time was that I would think out an entire plot, dialog and all, before my fingers touched the keyboard.
I'm not saying that life isn't good anymore. I'm not even saying that life was so great back then. I'm simply saying that it's different, and sometimes I miss the old things I used to enjoy.
I miss stopping doing the dishes to go answer the phone. I miss the teenager who used to pump gas for me and wash my window while I watched and smiled. I miss only having five choices on TV so I could leave it and go do something else without saving what I didn't see.
I miss not feeling guilty about not exercising, eating right, or being pleasingly plump because I'm daily bombarded with the guilts for all of the above.
I miss the newspaper because I don't have time to read the well thought out stories anymore. I miss magazines, ditto.
Most of all I think I miss daydreaming. I used to spend hours thinking about someday, but not so much anymore. I miss the Sunday funnies.