Yes, It Is All My Fault!

Well enough to run errands today, yay! Long day.

Must not fall behind on work work stuff, but also have a tight writing schedule this week. Need to finish the zeroth draft of the current short story and Chapter 7 (neither should be hard with the multiple pages of notes for each I have arrayed), plus I need to think up and preferably write the zeroth draft of another short story I’d like to have ready for a contest due the end of this month.

Of course, the story idea that actually came to mind is the one due TWO months from now, rather than a month from now. Of course.

So I wrote a bunch of notes down for that one and am letting it cook on the backbrain. Hopefully the guys will help me brainstorm up an idea or three tonight for the due-earlier tale. Or perhaps tomorrow, it’s been a long day and not sure how much energy I have left.

These mental crushes, how I amuse myself. I love meeting cool people.

I’m still conflicted about Flipside. There’s so much I’ve missed doing at work due to illness, it’s not really the best time to be completely out of touch for five days. On the other hand, lying in bed sick does not an actual vacation make, and I haven’t really had one since LAST Flipside. So. Flip, flip, flip.

Still coming up heads.

Writing this latest short story, I’m having quite the strange sensation.

I’m enjoying the zeroth draft. I like my scenes. I certainly plan to keep going until the end. But the story, as is, is definitely not working.

It’s mostly working, mind you; it has nearly all of the bits a working story needs. Just perhaps, not quite in the right order yet. Or in correct disorder. Or however it ends up.

It feels weird, writing a story I know just isn’t quite working, is just disjointed enough to be broken, and yet still be enjoying the process and fundamentally liking the story. I’m hoping that means that the fixes are either minor or within my current skill level. I guess I’ll find out soon!

Edit: Check out Bear’s collation of some excellent food-for-thought reading on the subject matter here. Especially if you don’t want to be That Guy (or Girl).

Kit was telling me about his experiences yesterday at Eeyore’s Birthday Party in Austin. At one point, some stranger handed him an (unopened) beer. He drank about half of it, then decided he didn’t want to finish it. Near by was another stranger who had a very obvious love affair with beer, having already consumed quite a lot and now shouting at passers-by how much he enjoyed the substance. Kit offered this gentleman the rest of his beer, which the man happily accepted. Hearing this story, not really thinking too deeply about it, I instantly reacted,

“Well, that wasn’t too smart of him, accepting open booze from strangers. Who knew what was in it?”

Which visibly stopped Kit, like a worldview shift head-on will do, before he said, “Oh. I never thought about that. That’s male privilege for you.” (Credit to him for recognizing it when it happened.)

His reaction sent me off into my own worldview dissonance. It had never occurred to me that only women were receiving the “no open drinks from strangers, never leave your drink unattended” programming, since well, it seems rather like common sense. (My late ignorance probably also shows off how few parties I’ve attended where alcohol consumption is the focus, or I’d likely have clued into this sooner.)

Huh. How weird would it be to accept an open container from some guy without a care in the world that it was anything other than the advertised substance. How weird that such a large chunk of the population never even has to have that thought. It’s a complex feeling that I’m sitting here with and contemplating right now, looking at this tiny marker of privilege I never knew I lacked perceiving until last night. I’m not sure how I feel–weird, uncomfortable, maybe even a little pissed-off only begin to define it. I guess I’ll have to think about it more, but I’d love to hear other people’s thoughts.

Warning: the link that will take you to the classic Simpsons Treehouse of Horror “The Shinning” snippet contains a nine-second loud ad at the beginning. Sorry, it was the best we could find. So turn your volume down and avert your eyes for that first 9 seconds, then enjoy.

No writing all this week of sick. Totally sucks when you’ve been on a roll and REALLY WANT to keep going. Managed to finally get some pages written, and learned two things:

1: It is way, way easier to write when you’re sick if you already have some sketched-out plan or outline or notes or something to work from. Attempting to be viscerally or primally creative when you’re marinating in your own fever-sweat or trying to keep your eyeballs from exploding from your head due to sinus pressure just isn’t as easy as everyone claims it is.

And I still came up with a new story idea to cook in the backbrain for a bit, this week; so “really difficult” doesn’t equal “impossible”, by far.

B: My personal “not enough writing make Reesa something something” point has shortened considerably in recent months. I now start to get antsy and go quietly crazy if I haven’t written in three days. Two, still sane. Four, getting more looney. Five is right out.

Luckily, I wrote on the fourth day, thanks to those lovely notes left by a healthier me with access to more of my creative brainpower than I do. But these are good things to know, the points at which the writing imperative shifts from nagging urge to “do this right now to remain balanced, monkey!” I expect the length of time to shorten, the more writing becomes ingrained as a daily habit. Change happens.

Holy Crapoly I haven ‘t had a fever this bad in some years. Sweat actively dripping, brainroasting 100+F temperatures, brain fog affecting memory retention even worse than normal. The aches and pains started about 2.5 days ago, the fever didn’t start until yesterday evening.

I really can’t take much more getting sick without becoming seriously unhinged. I have an average of 2 physically healthy days before the latest virus, bacteria, or allergy stimuli hits for another round, and emotionally I have had an incredibly rough few months so I’m not getting any time to just replenish my reserves. Running on fumes. When we get the next large checks in, we’re sending me to a doctor and an ENT specialist to find out if we can get me to a higher plateau of default healthiness. In the meantime…sigh.

My guys are being really great taking care of me, and oh! I’m writing this on my new (to me) laptop! So excited about this, gonna be learning all sorts of new stuff in the next several months. (It’s a tablet PC, so I get to learn a different interface. I have high hopes and long term plans for this adventure.)

AND, we put a deposit down on a rental house yesterday! It’ll be our first residence that’s truly all three of ours (now with twice as much space and sanity! no more too many people (two-legged and up) in too small a space.) The coolest part about the new place? Well there are several nice features, but at least for now the finished attic(!)–with a full-sized window, wood floors, and plenty of head-room to walk around (at least for us average-height folk)–takes the prize.

So it’s not all bad. But ye gods above and below, I am frying in my own juices here! Please let this be a short-lived illness and not the 7-14 days a virus usually causes. Wow, I think this entry came out mostly coherent, even!