2012-11-05 - 4:11 p.m.
Yes! I am making my goals every day for NaNoWriMo! It's terribly exciting! I am also going to the gym! These are two of three things are that desperately missing from the current incarnation of my life. The third thing is reading. Reading, writing and exercise. There's been too much decadence going on with me for the last year. When I first left that ridiculously awful cheese job I woke up every day for the better part of a year so relieved and thankful that I didn't have to go there any more. I just surrounded myself with comfort trying to get my poor spirit back to where it once was. And it worked. But now that I am feeling like myself again I need to let go of the comfort stuff a little. I can't drink wine in bed and watch back to back episodes of Arrested Development forever!* What I can do is get into bed and read like I used to. That's so much more satisfying anyway. Ah! I used to love the days when I would get into bed right after dinner and read for hours and hours.
*This might sound overly decadent, I know...you might wonder why I am in bed watching TV and drinking wine and the truth is, I'm not THAT pathetic (although it is pretty glorious)...it's just that I have this lower back issue and sitting down, even on a couch, for more than five seconds is rather painful. I can stand for hours or I can lay down for hours. But sitting, not so much. I watched TV with Eric last night and my back is killing me today. Obviously I need to go to the doctor but I always make up excuses about why I am not going. My most recent excuse is that Eric just changed jobs and while we are currently insured still through cobra, our new insurance doesn't kick in until December 1 and I would rather wait until our new insurance is in effect before I get into this ordeal. I'm sure there's going to be physical therapy involved and what if my new insurance doesn't cover treatment at the same place our current insurance does? You know. It's an excuse. Anyway. That's why I'm drinking wine and watching TV in bed instead of on the couch like normal people.
So my NaNoWriMo stuff is, as usual, horribly written and I haven't even gotten to a story yet even though I am about 8,000 words in. I'm just babbling. Mostly about family stuff. As in, I want to have a family. I announced to Eric the other day that he better start getting used to the idea. It's going to happen. It's been very strange but all of a sudden I felt this shift in our existence...I've wanted this family thing in some sense for a number of years now but it never really felt like it could happen. Then all of a sudden it felt real. Now I just have to overcome my basic instincts and figure out how the hell to adopt children. Unfortuantely I am not a person who can adopt a child with special needs. I wish I were that person...but I just cannot. Although I would certainly be able to take care of a child with special needs and I would love them more than anything on the planet...it's too much for me. Although I want to have a family I still also want to have a bit of personal time and space. I will always be thinking that I want to go to school, that I want to do this or that. I would like to have a child who will possibly, in fifteen years or so, be able to make some of their own decisions, cook some of their own meals, get places on their own. Etc. Maybe that's very selfish of me but I can't help it. Anyway...adopting a healthy “normal” infant is, from what I understand, very expensive and very difficult. I would be fine with any baby up to about the age of three. But nothing older. I will be raising the child as a vegetarian and after about the age of three I think taking away the chicken nuggets they are probably eating like crazy would be just as much trauma as starting a new life with new parents! (OK, I know that's not true but maybe a little true! Kids love their stupid chicken nuggets!)
So with all my babbling in my 8,000 word “novel” I've managed to glean out a couple of things that are possible story ideas although nothing is being shaped yet. As usual, I find myself embarrassed by the things that could be great stories. Like, I would be mortified if my father read some of things or I don't want so and so to think I am writing about them (even if I am). It would be pretty awesome to be a writer who no longer knew anybody. Maybe I should write under a pseudonym!! I could do that!! I think in the past my pride would have stopped me from that because I would want people to know that I (ME!) am famous. But these days I am pretty sure I wouldn't care if anybody knew. I rather like being anonymous.
So anyway...back to the “novel” now.|
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