Anyone who says differently is selling something.

In that measure, then, I am certainly living high. Since my last entry, back in January, I have gone through some incredible highs. I would call them some of the best times of my life not concerned with my children. Those times where everything is wonderful, and you are filled with so much joy that it spills over and colors everything in rosy shades, and nothing can ever be wrong again.

The problem with having such wonderful joyous times is that the pendulum always swings back. And right now, it has swung way, way back. In fact, it feels like it has swung back far enough to lodge itself firmly on my chest, preventing breathing or anything else.

Tomorrow is the trip of my life. Hubby has a work trip to Scotland, and he is taking me with him. I have wanted to go my entire life, yet I can hardly get excited about it, despite trying as hard as I can.

So the big question of the day--are the good times worth it, if they cause such pain?








 

I dreamed last night of driving. Not the kind of driving I do now—the errand running, back and forth through the city traffic driving, using as little gas as possible and half the time with the kids in the vehicle yelling. I dreamed about the driving I used to do. The kind when I would hop in the car and just go, for freedom or escape or whatever. I loved that. I would hit the freeway or the more deserted canyon roads and hit the gas pedal and go as far as a tank of gas would carry me, as fast as the car I was in would allow, the radio blaring whatever music most suited my mood.

In the dream, I was driving along a coastal type highway. It was like the ones you see in the movies, with almost no cars, and the most beautiful scenery. I started the drive right at the beginning of the road, right where it came up out of the sea. At first I wasn’t sure what to do, the other cars were driving right up out of the ocean, and I didn’t want to get in the way. Plus, I wasn’t coming from the water, so merging seemed a little tricky. It felt like I was making a u-turn or something, as though I had been about to drive into the water. Once I jumped in to the traffic, though, flinging the car around and flooring it, feeling the water spray out from under the back tires, I knew this was the way. I drove, letting everything slip away as I pushed the speed ever faster, reveling in the feelings I’d almost forgotten. The twists and turns of the road didn’t bother me at all, the were as they used to be in real life—fun, riding the edge of dangerous as I took them a shade too fast for control, and far over what the recommended speed was. The car was fast, sporty and low to the ground; the windows down and the wind whipping through my hair. The other cars disappeared, until it was just the way I liked it, just me and the road, the wind and the music and the speed.

As I read through this, it seems like there is a pretty clear message there about life. It’s a message I’m not quite ready to take, though, as much as it calls to me. I guess it’s enough to know I can take that u-turn when I need to, and things will be all right.






 

It is this time of day--late afternoon, when in the winter the light is just starting to fade and coming in the windows all slanted and golden--that just kills me. In a way I hate it, despite its beauty. It makes my heart hurt, my eyes burn, turns my stomach sour. I dread it, when I think about it, though I try not to. It isn't only the afternoon; the feeling continues long into the evening. It's as though the fading light shines most brightly on my life then, highlighting all the things I don't want to see, showing me all the things I will never have.

It hurts, because I think there is something wrong with me. Why can't I want what I have, any of it? Stupid choices, answers another, smarter part of my mind. When you make stupid choices throughout your life, you can't expect anything better. And the problem is, I should love what I have. I have a husband who loves me, whom I've been married to for thirteen years, and four children who are wonderful more often than not. And what I want more than anything is to be single, and unencumbered. I find myself fantasizing about having a little condo, decorated just how I want it. About spending my time the way I want to, not the way I have to as dictated by the life that is actually mine.

During the day, when I am alone for the long hours while everyone else is at school or work, I can be whoever I want. I can live my fantasy, email the people who mean everything to me, look around and see the things I want to. But once late afternoon rolls around, that is gone. The kids arrive home, the husband gets back from work, and the bubble of fantasy pops. All that is left is reality, and guilt.

And my, what guilt it is. Huge heaping piles of it, deep enough to drown a fish, wide enough to lose a continent. Guilt because I should be supremely happy in my life. Guilt because with everything I have, I want more, want other. Guilt over wanting a future, over not wanting a future. There is no end in sight to the sea of guilt.

The factions of my mind war with one another, until the cacophony inside my head is greater than the one outside it that the kids cause. One says to hell with everything, go for what you want! Another says to wait, be patient--the future may bring wonderful changes. A couple more argue over what changes, good or bad, would have to happen; while the adult one says to just deal with what you have. They shriek to make themselves heard, but weaving through all of them is the small one, the dark one that sits in the corner. It rocks back and forth, crying because it knows there is no answer. No way to shut the others up. There are no easy answers, there never have been.







 

Just past the halfway, actually. There are a few people on the nano site that have actually finished! Amazing. Mine, however, is wallowing in craptastic misery, barely passing the 20k mark this morning. Ah well, just keep swimming.

The story itself has gotten a little strange, and it seems that as soon as I care about word count, all rules of halfway decent writing fly right out the window. I will do every trick I can think of to get the word count up, generally including long, horrible run-on sentences that go forever and ever and ever. Not unlike this one.

To throw another wrench into the works, tonight I leave to go visit some friends for a few days. I'm very excited about this (except for my usual paralyzing bout of travel anxiety), though I don't know how I'll be able to write. I have the best of intentions, of course, but you know what they say about those. Something about the road to hell, if I remember what my grandma always told me...

Anyway. If you are (very) bored, wander over to my nano project. That way when I look at it, and it shows me how many views I've had, the number won't say "0"....

Here's a link, if you didn't want to scroll the page down :

ID: 1721501   (Rated: XGC) Demon Recreation  My Nano novel for 2010 by dragonfly~was across the world

I am off to a decent start with Nano, though it doesn't feel like it. My daughter, who just turned sixteen, decided to do Nano this year as well. And not the Young Writer's program, where she can set a wordcount--no, she is doing the full on 50k. And while I have just passed the four thousand mark, she is well past six. And laughing at me. *sigh* I am super proud of her, though, and I hope she can keep it up for the month!

Right now, my biggest problem seems to be shutting down my Internal Editor long enough to actually write. It is the same problem I had last year, and last year I couldn't get past it at all. Usually it doesn't cause me this many problems; I know you have to shut it down and vomit the words onto the screen. I think part of the problem is that this year, there are people who I respect reading it. People I want to actually impress, non writer type people. I want them to think highly of me, not to read it and say, "Wow, this is...utter crap." Or some variation on that theme. Even if they don't say it (which they wouldn't), the knowledge that they might think it seems to paralyze me.

At least I have come up with a title, though! It doesn't really make sense yet, but I'm pretty sure (okay, strongly hoping) that it will soon.

Here is a link to it, feel free to read/comment/whatever (but please don't mock--my fragile ego couldn't take it. )

ID: 1721501   (Rated: XGC) Demon Recreation  My Nano novel for 2010 by dragonfly~was across the world

Well, I'm certainly doing a bang-up job of keeping up with WDC. However, now it is Nanotime, and I always seem to do a little better during Nano.

Got up early this morning to get started on the word count. Since I have a four day trip in the middle of the month, and the possibility of another one over thanksgiving weekend, I need to build up a cushion during the first couple of weeks. And so far, I am doing pretty well. I am 1574 words, and still have the rest of the day ahead of me. As yet, I have no idea what it is about, or the genre, or a title...nothing. Maybe you can help?

The story so far: A woman wakes up naked in a bed not her own, with no idea how she got there or where she is. She has been in a fight, has various bruises and scrapes which have been cleaned up. The woman who is there with her says that her clothes were destroyed, but she managed to get all the blood off our heroine's favorite boots, and she knows about the events of the night before, though she hasn't said anything yet.

I think there might be something of the occult in this--it is safe to say, as it sneaks into my books whether I want it there or not. Witchcraft, werewolves, vampires, something. So, any title ideas?







 

...hunting season, that is. Yes, once again I have been abandoned by my husband as he traipses off to the woods, hoping to prove his manliness against the denizens of the forest.

Usually, I respond to this by proving myself against the perils of the stores, craft and book being the main areas. This year, however, I am trying something new and mostly unheard of--not spending extra money. I know, I know! It is amazing, radical even. Not sure if I can do it. I also haven't joined any new communities online, another thing I often do during the late nights when I can't sleep. My only vice so far has been playing the Sims--which I have been doing excessively.

In other news, last week I had to have a bit of surgery for ongoing problems. They sent some bits to the lab, and after a very tense week, I have gotten cautious word that everything is all right. I say cautious because the doctor was not actually there when I called for results, and the receptionist couldn't read all of the notes (he has hideous writing), but as far as she could see everything came back normal. If there is anything wrong, she will have the doc call when he gets in. It has been nearly an hour now, and no phone calls, so I am thinking that maybe everything is all right...cautiously.






 

How long can you push something down inside before it disappears? When you hide it day after day, year after year, does it eventually vanish, becoming no more than a faint ghost?

Most of the time, I love my life. I have four gorgeous, intelligent children that I can (and sometimes do) ramble on about for hours. My husband is wonderful, and puts up with a lot. My house, while not without its bad points, is certainly not a dump; I have my routines that keep me happy and at least somewhat productive.

But then there are those other times. Times like today, when I’m driving by myself with the stereo on, and the light is just right. The road stretches out before me, beckoning with the idea of new places, changes, experiences. Then the “other” me pops out. The one from just past high school, the skinny smart one that knew everything she wanted and just how she was going to get it. She looks at me, with all the extra pounds, the projects I can’t seem to finish, the writing “career” that is going nowhere, the mini van—and she sneers. The only things she seems to approve of are the tattoos.

“You didn’t do a single thing we had planned,” she says. “We were going to be single, and gorgeous, and living in Northern California! What happened to being a successful author, rescuing pets from shelters and giving them a home in our big house, giving huge amounts of money to all the charities? What happened to being able to just take off whenever we wanted, see the world, go on drives all over the country to visit people?”

I try to defend myself. “Well, I adopted my cat from a shelter….and I have these kids, they are great!”

She sneers. “Oh, one cat. Wow. And those kids you speak of—are they the same ones that argue with everything you say, fight all the time, hardly notice if you are there or gone? Those kids?” I stare at her, not knowing what to say. “What the hell? Look at you! You got old, you got fat. You didn’t do a single thing we had agreed on, and now it is too late! Did you ever take into consideration what I wanted? None of these things you have now are the things I looked forward to; none of them are what I wanted to fill my life with. Did you ever once think of me?”

The words from the “other” sink in to my head. Are they true? Have I lost who I was, or was I never that person? What would have happened if I hadn’t gotten pregnant so soon after high school? Have I pushed down the things I thought I wanted, the things that seemed such an important part of me until they died? Or were those things never the real me to begin with? It seems too late to find out now. After all, I do love my family. And I love my life, most of the time. All I can do is push that “other” back down, deep, as far as she will go. Maybe she won’t come back, maybe there won’t be a next time to tease me with thoughts of what I might have missed. Then I can be happy with my little routines, and my mini van.










 

After a break of what--nearly two years? I am back for real. I know, I know, you've heard that one before, but this time I think I mean it. The new (or new to me, anyway) changes around wdc look pretty intriguing, and have certainly got my attention. I've even cleaned out the portfolio so I can make an all new, all fresh start! Now to actually write something to go in there....

Not much has been going on in real life. No major earth changing news, nothing like that--and I really hope I'm not tempting fate by saying so. Life has just been plodding along on it's normal course, drowning me with trivialities, sucking my time away with nothing even remotely memorable. The kids are getting so big they are hardly recognizable; Oldest is in college now, and Daughter turns 16 this week. The younger ones are thriving and fighting--as we speak, actually .

Writing has come almost to a standstill--I haven't even been able to complete a Nano for the past couple of years. Pathetic. Thus the need for some kind of change, and the return to wdc. It feels like coming home, comforting and yet slightly uncomfortable with the changes. Hopefully, I'll find a few neighbors I still know, and maybe a few new ones. It is good to be back.