Posts Tagged ‘doubt’

Mash up. With no music, sorry about that.

November 6, 2010

What should I write about? The book I’m working on? All I can say on that topic is that my Inner Editor has been checked into a kennel for the month of November, as suggested by the wonderful NaNoWriMo book No Plot? No Problem!

Don’t feel too bad for my….oh, I just realised the initials are IE. That makes me feel sad because it has been years since I’ve used Internet Explorer due to the inherent suckage. Well, maybe the editor sucks, too. At least during the first draft. (Though I write an okay first draft, I think.)

I’ve been low, low, low this week. Part of that is that this is like the fifth week with random sicknesses, the dreaded time change, and evil molars. Part of that is an email I received from a friend. Someone I met on twitter, but someone I think I’d like to hang with in real life. At least she lives in my country, so there is a remote chance.

At any rate, she sent a gentle email questioning whether it was smart to have another baby. You know, what with the SPD.

I thank her for that. I appreciate it. It’s all too easy for me to breeze past things and forget how truly awful they were; it’s all too easy to pretend that the daily level of pain I have is ‘normal.’ Thought I guess it is, at least for me.

Still, this email has been rolling around and around in my mind. Hence all the Snickers eating, the wanting to do nothing but sleep, and the feeling like shit. (Internet friend, if you are reading, I have also just ovulated so that also contributes. I do not write any of this to make you feel guilty!)

But the question remains. Dare I risk a second pregnancy, when there is a lot at stake this time around? Namely, two little people who already depend on me.

I’m going to shy away from thinking about that at the minute.

My cheeks are a weird combo of cold and hot – we’ve just been in the park pushing the kids in the swings. I am unbelieveably tired, but the walk helped shift me from comatose to just exhausted. It’s sunny, the leaves are vibrant colours, and it’s not really that cold. A lovely combo.

So.

What else to say?

I’m listening to a Christmas radio station on lastfm. It’s kind of shit, so anyone out there who also likes to indulge in a little maudlin homesick holiday music on lastfm, do let me know a good station. And if you don’t know lastfm, I have just blown your mind. It is everything right with the world.

Anyway. I haven’t weighed myself for a few days. I was somehow managing to stay the same, but wonder if that has held out. I have so many things that seem like priorities, but the only real thing I want to do is curl up under my duvet and watch Friends.

Somehow, though, I doubt that goal will help me achieve a substandard living as a romance novelist (I’ll write more about this soon, if anyone wants to know more.), lose weight, or reply to any of the zillion emails I am so shit at responding to. I’ve read them all, people, and thank you for them. I am happy to have you all in my life. I just get a bit frazzled and overwhelmed sometimes.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m supposed to crack 10,000 words today and I’m only at 7,000. I’ve added a Nano word count page (look at the top right of my blog) for anyone geeky enough to want to follow along to see how much I’m writing daily. If only I could add blog posts into that count.

*waves*

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…sun glinting off a river…leather couches.

March 25, 2009

In an altogether awkward, reflective mood today. Had a bad night last night, and a badish morning today. Every now and then these little bubbles of the unpleasant and unexpected pop up, and I wonder where they have come from and when they will go away again.

I also am thinking about my grandmother today. A few days ago my mother emailed me in response to my bump pictures and said, ‘I hope grandma can see you.’ I didn’t know what she was talking about – she was grandma, and hadn’t she just seen all the photos? TMD said, ‘She means YOUR grandma.’ A surge of something came over me – guilt for not remembering, loss for what I/she/TMD/the babies are missing, warmth at her memory.

This morning Chirp wrote to me about my grandmother, out of nowhere – with a quote of what she thinks my grandma would say about all these babies. It made me smile, and tear up a little.

The Polish Catholic part of me, the part of me who just started reading Eat, Pray, Love today (thank you, Tia!), thought for just a second – is this my grandmother trying to come through to me? Twice mentioned in one week after a too long absence? Then the pragmatic part of me briskly slapped me about the face and told me to gather myself in, to be real.

Today I am in the office for a little while in the morning, then lay down/eat lunch for an hour, then travel across the city to go to an afternoon training. It’s in a big, iconic building that every tourist will have seen – right along the river. I’m going to push myself out of the crowded public transport system and wind my way to the river, walking along the banks to go to the training. While it’s a slightly longer route and walking is not my friend these days, I long to see the sun bounce off the river, to see all the crowds, to walk along and marvel that I, plain old Existere from a countryish background in an ordinary backdrop, now live in this (mostly) extraordinary country.

Here’s hoping the sun cooperates.

After the training I’d like to find myself a little hole to curl up in with this book, sometimes reading and sometimes thinking about my very slipped Buddhist practice. My mother and I had a conversation last week where she told me to pray to God with¬† my worries, that everything was out of human control anyway. I said I thought most things were actually our choices, actions, etc.¬† We came to a somewhat happy compromise – an altogether interesting thing to happen when our spiritual views are (I think, anyway) far apart.

But whoever you pray to, whatever you believe or don’t believe, I suspect many things are actually one and the same. TMD’s strong atheism makes me nervous, people who are strongly religious make me nervous. I’m just here on my little island, wondering and curious and hopeful and pessimistic.

All things considered, though, I’m doing okay.