Things to do.

I really need to do a better job of holding myself accountable for finishing my projects. The bits and pieces are scattered across the whole of my living room waiting for me to finish them. And, to that end, I really need to quit forgetting I have a blog, even if it’s used for nothing more than posting a random paragraph or two on progress.

My current list:
1. Finish current novel (two scenes left to write.)
2. Finish commissioned scarf.
3. Finish my own scarf.
4. Bake scones.
5. Bake cake.
6. Clean living room/kitchen (since they’re really the same room.)
7. Finish reading books on hoodoo.
8. Accumulate things for spells and protections.

I’m sure I’m forgetting something. I’ll just have to add it later.

What a long, strange week this has been.

Monday. It started Monday. I was at work and Mom called, except I didn’t take the call because I was at work and on the floor. So, I get to the office and call her back  for her to tell me that Dad is being taken to the hospital and they didn’t know what was wrong with him. I left work. I drove down to my parents’ to stay with their dogs until they got home. Which was about 8:00 Monday night.

Dad’s fine. Which is to say they still aren’t sure what happened, but that all his vitals were normal. That hasn’t stopped a distinct feeling of dread every time my phone rings. Just in case some thing else has gone awry.

I spent the night. Left there just before 8:00 Tuesday morning. Drove home. Called Mom to let her know I was home and safe. Then showered and napped. Two hours later… Just groggy as hell for the rest of the day.

Wednesday was just odd. Like I couldn’t get my head out of my ass. Went to work. Got as much done as humanly possible before saying “Fuck it. I’m going home.” Which, by the way was the end of my scheduled shift. Still, I wanted to make up part of the time I lost Monday because those two hours make far more of a difference than anyone else might suspect.

Maybe part of my problem was the complete lack of work getting done, or, more to point, the lack of proper prioritization of what needed to be done. Stuff that should get done in a timely fashion is ignored for things that don’t matter as much, and wouldn’t be important if we managed to get things done when they were scheduled. But that’s a different rant.

Thursday. Work. Again. Go in. Bust ass. Get stuff done, but still, just an emotional wreck, like there’s so many unresolved things just hanging over my head. But, mostly, it was because I hadn’t had a day to properly disengage from the world. Tuesday was my first day off and that was spent being exhausted. Today is my second one.

Today. I get a text message asking if a rumor is true. So, I do some poking and find out that it was. My boss is no longer with the company. There are a lot of mixed feelings there that will get sorted out when the dust settled. On one hand it sucks. On the other, maybe things will move a bit more smoothly now. We won’t know until we get there. What I do know is that I’ve managed to get more writing done today than I have all week and that makes me feel amazing. And with that comes the realization that if I can write, then the rest of life will sort itself out because maybe I’ve already found my secret to happiness.

Something on the horizon?

I’ve had this odd feeling I can’t shake, one that lingers despite everything I do to get rid of it, as if I’m waiting for something I know is coming but can’t remember what that thing is. I can’t even remember when it started. It sort of crept up on me, just lingering in the back of my mind, out of sight with the promise of wrecking any peace of mind I might be able to find. Except, I’m not sure if that’s entirely true.

My entire life, I’ve had feelings, gut instincts that turn out to be right. I’ve made too many of my decisions based on those feelings. I’ve always ended up where I need to be. Always. It’s the sort of thing I’ve developed faith in over the years. So, I suppose, I just need to have faith now that things will work out in the best way  possible. It’s difficult, but every time I ignore that little voice in the back of my head something bad happens. So, maybe I should just stop ignoring it.

I’m sure I’ve said that before. I’m sure I’ve gone through this song and dance before. I’m not sure though, this feels different than before, not just waiting, but something else. I always get antsy before a large change comes. And, my card readings keep coming up with change and patience. Maybe I’ll have to listen.

Or, work harder. Or both. Both sounds good. Well, better than good really, since nothing ever comes without working at it, even the things we’re good at. We have to work at them, to get better at them, to advance.

Reflection

It’s strange to think that it’s been half a year since I posted anything, but then, at the same time, it makes perfect sense. I’m that person that doesn’t like to attract attention to myself. I don’t want people looking in my direction, even when I’d much prefer to have some sort of accolade or the promise of something better.  Because, really, that’s what I want. Something better.

And, to an extent things have improved. We have a new store manager at work. He’s turned the store around and made my job better, even if there are aspects I do hate. He gives me a certain level of freedom to do what I want, to make choices, to see how far I can run with certain things. Eventually, he’ll give me what I want and let me rip the whole department apart and put it back together in a more thorough way than I tend to manage. That would make me happy, until I think about the fact that I’m content and happy in an awkward middle management job where I’ll likely never get ahead because I didn’t take my chance when I had it. Either of them. Out of fear maybe, or perhaps it’s because I have more time for my true love where I am. I get more writing done now than I would if I took a salaried position.

I’ve made progress on the writing front. I self published the first two novels in my series on both Amazon and Barnes and Noble. (The links for Awakening are: http://amzn.to/1jaoCwc and http://bit.ly/1n4tjxi. The links for Lost in the Woods are: http://bit.ly/1n4tjxi and http://bit.ly/1n4utso) I published a short story collection that I had kicking around forever. I’ve written so many things in between, now I just need to polish them, send them out, and see where that gets me. Hopefully published and paid. I’d like that, but constructive criticism would also be a thing. It will help me make progress in a generally forward direction.

There’s another idea I have floating around my mind. It’s a thing, a small thing, well, probably more like a large thing. I’m thinking about a bakery/tea shop. I’ve got a name, a theme inside my mind. I’m in a waiting pattern, not willing to act on it until it’s been floating around my head for six months and still seems like a good idea. Then I’ll buckle down, do the research and see if it’s even plausible. At the very least, it will give me something to play with later on, and if it does play out, that will be amazing and fantastic. I’d love to have something that was mine, just mine, not dictated to  by anyone. I need to take a risk somewhere and this seems like one that might pay off.

Reflections of the cusp of thirty

Halloween is just around the corner. After that, November begins and my birthday looms ahead like some awkward thing waiting to shank me and leave me in a pool of blood while it walks away laughing. I’m going to be thirty this year. I keep telling myself it’s not a big deal, that I’m going to step over the threshold into the beginning of being middle aged with a bit of dignity. Then, then I think about what I’ve accomplished and managed to get done in the last ten years and I sort of weep.

Which, really isn’t fair to myself. I’ve done a lot. I’ve met people and lived and become a better writer because of it. That’s, I think, the more important thing to take away from the mess. The real problem is I anticipated doing something more exciting than working retail on the edge of thirty. But, then I suppose, we all have to work our way through some awkward phase to get where we want to be and there’s no sense in feeling sorry for oneself. Well, no more than necessary anyway. It’s not like I don’t have enough self-loathing to convincingly pull off being Dean Winchester for Halloween. The short hair cut does help, more than a little, but the guilt and self-loathing are hard to fake.

So, tonight, I’m going to sit here in my new shirt, watch horror movies with friends and try really hard not to think about the gray hairs creeping along the edges of my temples and the fact that I can’t drink as much coffee as I used to, but that my alcohol tolerance is still ridiculous. I’m going to count my blessings on that and carry on. Because, really, thirty isn’t even close to the end of the world, or my lifetime and there’s plenty of time for finding my partner and have adventures. Especially now that I’ve gotten my life path all figured out and sorted. Well, mostly figured out. And not really sorted. But I have a thing. Which is like a plan, but with more grandeur.

Ambition.

I filled in my writing calendar for this month. It’s ambitious, possibly more so than most I’ve done. I’m working on a rewrite for a novel, and zero drafts for two different novels. I’ve got more material for the comic I’m playing around with. I have deadlines set. I have a piece that’s almost ready to go out into the world, as soon as it has a cover and a blurb.

It’s a lot, but I can do it. I’m smart. Not that being smart has anything to do with it. Not really, so let’s go with clever. I’m clever. I’m clever enough to get everything done, and to keep this whole ball of wax moving despite any distractions or issues. I’m clever enough to come up with a plan.

Now, I just need to not give into my fears and everything will be fine. That’s easier said that done, and I know that. It’s why I’m trying to keep myself busy, keep myself focused and then I’ll be on the right track.

Plus, I’ve got a thing. It’s sort of like a plan, but with more grandeur.

Internal Reflection

I’m scared of lots of things. Absolutely terrified. Having two shadows. Angel statues. Being alone for too long and the creeping sort of ego that seeps from the fibers of my very existence and makes me believe that I am in fact a god. All of those, but I think the thing that scares me the most is that I might fall flat on my face if I try to pursue a career doing the singular thing that I love more than anything else.

I have so many stories, some written, some in the process, some just notes stuck to my wall on bright colored paper or marked as a title on my dry erase board. So many things to kick out there, to share, and I’m scared to do it. I suppose the first step to getting over the fear is admitting to it. That bit’s done then. The next is putting things out there. Finding markets, finding interest, groping in the dark until I find my place among the storytellers of my generation. After that, it all becomes cake.

I can overcome my fear. I need to because I am so very tired of working a job I hate, of having to find time to write, or coming up with ideas at “inopportune” times. I’m tired of having a boss with not concept of grammar or proper usage. It makes me cringe every time I read something with horrible sentence structure. All I can think is “Anyone with a rudimentary grasp in the English language can’t possibly take you seriously.” And that sort of makes me feel like an ass.

Then the ego takes over.

It goes to dark places. And, I can’t say that I don’t enjoy them because I do. I don’t mind the fact that the only thing stopping me from doing some of the things that pop into my head is the list of rules I’ve had for as long as I can remember.

I am happy and peppy and wonderfully psychotic because it keeps the darkness at bay. I’m eccentric and loud and excitable for the same reasons The Doctor is. Because all that is better than the alternative, for me and for everyone around me.

But, I do deserve to be happy. I deserve to do the things I want to do, to get what I want from life instead of being stuck in this oddly painful rut all because of some horrible sense of duty. It is what it is. I am who I am, and I can only be pushed so far before I reach the breaking point.

And when that happens, it’s a good thing I have so many rules.

Starting the job search before I go insane. (Or more insane…)

The knitting is going well. I think I’ve got it down, but I might want another fifty or sixty rows to make sure.

Today has a different sort of challenge going on. I’m working in job applications. I hate looking for a job, but I’ve reached a point where I dread going to work and there is a huge sigh of relief when I leave for the day. My shoulders get tight. More often than not, I have a headache from the stress. So, it’s past time for a new job.

The problem is finding one that’s close to home that I’m not considered beyond qualified for. Stupid Master’s degree anyway… Not that I regret that I have it, just that it makes it harder for me to find a job. Though, I would think that the fact it’s in education might make it easier for me to find one. Everyone knows that the education field is inundated.

I think really, I’m just tired of cleaning up other people’s messes. Not that it won’t happen other places, but if I’m starting at the bottom, it’s less likely to be a thing right off. And maybe, just maybe, I can find a job that I don’t mind or even like and that will reduce my stress and let me get more writing done. Which is really the entire goal of my existence.

I have a new hobby.

I’ve realized I can’t be writing all the time. I try, but sometimes the brain just sort of gets awkward and doesn’t want to cooperate. It happens. And I don’t always want to play video games… They’re awesome, but yeah. So, to the end of entertaining myself, I’ve decided to take up knitting.

I thought about it before. Partly because it seems like a thing, and the rest because I want to knit myself a replica of the fourth Doctor’s scarf. I had a dream that I wore it to work the other day and it sort of spurred me on.

Today, I bought my knitting needles and some deep purple yarn to practice with. I’ve already made decent progress in just a couple of hours. I’m feeling pretty good about that and what the future will hold.

I’ve also been thinking about making jewelry. That has a bit more of a start up cost, but I’ll get where I want to be eventually with the crafting and the writing and all the little bits of life that are strung out there for the world to see.

The fog has lifted.

I started writing again, well, not so much writing as working on revisions. It’s a place to start, a step in the right direction and, truth be told, I feel better about life when I’m getting words down on the page. Or, at the very least when I’m manipulating the ones I’ve already put there.

So, that’s it really. That’s the thing that I need to work my way through. I know what makes me happy and I need to struggle through and perfect my process if I’m going to pursue what I want from life. I can do it. I know I can do it.

Maybe then I’ve managed to get past my crisis. I feel better than I did a couple of weeks ago, as if I’ve made the important decision looming over me and found out there wasn’t really a decision to make, just banishing the doubts lingering at the back of my mind.

So, now, I put my head down and get through the words. I’ll make them better and get to do all those things that I’ve been wanting to do. Go to the conventions and do signings and readings and the fun sort of work related writer things that go with being published. It’ll be fantastic and all I need to do is put in a ridiculous amount of work now.