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Monthly Archives: April 2012

All I ever really wanted

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All I’ve ever really wanted is a sort-of normal life–you know, someone to love who loves me in return and can say those words to me sometimes and mean them. It would be a sad, sad thing to live and die and never hear those words and know they were meant for me alone. I don’t care about money or houses or cars or clothes or all the stuff people knock themselves out to get and then throw forgotten into a corner somewhere once the new wears off. Give me a steady kind of love, as comfortable as a really good pair of jeans, soft and comforting most of the time with the occasional hard bite of zipper and cold metal rivets. That’s all I’ve ever really wanted. And that’s all I’ve ever really been denied.

Wow. Melancholy. Rainy days and Mondays . . .

Novel thoughts, and a shortie, too

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Some things just won’t leave you alone. They may fade into the background for days, weeks, months–even years. But they’re still there, and the oddest things may bring them fully back into your thoughts.

I was working the mystery section at the library last week when I started thinking about a certain thumb drive in a certain drawer back at the house. The one that has bits of doggerel on it, my entries into the Scarlet Boa (I should have won, y’all! (Okay, looking back, it’s not my best work, but fun nonetheless)), the one with the beginnings of a short story that rattles around in my brain from time to time. It’s not quite “The Chicken Farmer’s Wife,” an epic short that Mr. F and I began and that never fully hatched, but it’s there. It’s also the one with my novel–some 150 pages–on it. The one that’s been languishing for several years now.

The novel–well, it sucks. No, really, it does. Sucks big green ones, to steal a phrase from my friend, T. A serio-comic mystery in which the plotting is haphazard, the dialog is wooden, the action is just about non-existent, and most of the characters are cardboard cut-outs, this is one confused piece of writing.

But four characters keep coming back to me–the two central protagonists and the two antagonists (or are they?). Quinn and Davis; Jane and what’s-his-name, the guy I never got around to naming, or if I did, I don’t recall his name. He was a minor character originally, but over the years, he’s become much more integral to the story. I guess he needs a name now.

Which sort of suggests that I may start tinkering with the novel again. I know more about the story now, about whodunnit and who saves the day, and I’ve never been able to stop thinking about Davis, who may just be the world’s most perfectly imperfect man. I adore him. I really do. It could be that Davis deserves a fuller life than the tiny one he has now on that thumb drive. Quinn, too, who’s quite likable, though she’s no Davis.

And then there’s Gert, who insists that is her name and not something softer. She’s Gert. She’s been stuck on an island for years now, in a situation that perhaps should be resolved, though in fewer pages than a novel. I know more about her now, too, and about what drives her. I’ve crept more fully into her mind, seen through her eyes, and I feel more sympathy for her. Maybe she deserves a fuller life as well.



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Today is a little breather for me. Time for me. Although there are the normal kinds of chores one has to do–laundry and picking up and taking care of the cat (and really, cat of mine, that “I have no opposableĀ  thumbs” argument is getting old) and working my online gig–this is the one day this week that I don’t have to go anywhere. Tomorrow I get to go somewhere, but that’s entirely different from having to go.

It’s knitting at the library day today, but I’ve been there every day this week at my temp job and I need a breather from that, too. I love my library, but enough is enough sometimes. If only I could get a little break from my “roomie,” as well.

So, the genius plan for the day is to get the chores done this morning and take the afternoon for my own greedy self. I don’t know what I’ll do–it’s a gloomy day, chilly and threatening rain, so outdoor activities are probably not on the docket. In any case, getting out of the house and going somewhere, if only to sit in my car at a favorite park and listen to the rain (if there is any) on the roof while I knit or read or dream would do me good.


Later: A peacefully producious morning here. The last bit of laundry is drying, I accomplished all I wanted to and more at the job, and now it’s time to look ahead to the afternoon.

Freeplay Friday

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Feeling like a hot shot of Joe today. Enjoy.

Impulse control

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I’m sometimes stupidly impulsive, and though this is a character trait I’ve worked to curb over the years, it still gets the better of me sometimes. I’ve said and done things on impulse that have, at times, had far-reaching effects. Regrets? I’ve had a few.

Recently, something I did a few years ago has jumped up and bitten me. I was going through a period of both growth and exploration back then and wandered off in a few places I now wish I hadn’t visited. I’ll let you make up your own stories about the wheres and whats, but suffice it to say I’m living with some regret now, and it’s not the best roommate ever. There’s a fine line between exploring and getting lost; there’s also a fine line between speaking your mind and shooting your mouth (and your foot and maybe some other assorted body parts) off. I don’t know that I’ll ever learn not to cross those lines, but I’d sure like to get to a place where I can recognize them before I leap over them. Barring that, some kind of Star Trek-y device to control impulses would be great. Somebody get on that, okay?

Random thought # 819

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Love makes a person beautiful. Have you ever noticed that? Others may puzzle over what there is to love, but you see the beauty, even in the scars and so-called imperfections, the quirks in behavior and the outright oddities. And maybe those are what make them beautiful in the first place.

Perfection is so boring. I’ll take a beautifully imperfect weirdo any day.


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I had a migraine settle in last night and it’s still here after a restless night. I’m debating the wisdom of trying to go to work later.

I hate these things. Such a waste of my days, spent in pain.

I hope you are well today.

Later: Though the left side of my face is fairly numb–don’t be alarmed; this usually happens with my migraines–I haven’t broken down in tears or puked, so I’m going to try going to work. I can always leave early if I need to.

Top ten things I’m thinking about

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1. Odd alliances.

2. Cheese and crackers.

3. Sleep.

4. Coffee.

5. My raggedy-looking feet.

6. Walking. I’ve put it on hold for a while because of a wonky knee and I miss it.

7. Work. It really messes up my day.

8. Yarn.

9. What to read next.

10. People I miss. It’s a really short list. Which isn’t the diss it seems to be; it’s simply that there aren’t that many people who are close to me, or to whom I feel close, for me to miss.

Sunday quiet

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The laundry is going and I need to work a bit, but then the rest of the day is mine. All mine, to do with as I please.

I’m more than a little peopled out and am longing for some time alone, where interactions are optional, any noise is of my own making, and I can call my life my own, just for a few hours. I need some quiet.

Hoping you have the kind of Sunday you need as well.

Later: Ahhh. Better. If only I could have another day of weekend.

Saturday shortie

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Coffee me. That is all.