Tag: memoir

That Made Me Stronger

And here we are on Pay-the-Bills Wednesday again, and I am feeling pretty okay this morning. I was very tired when I got home last night after running an errand to pick up some books I ordered–Liza’s new memoir and Vincent Tirado’s new horror novel–but somehow managed to do a load of dishes and a load of laundry. I slept very well last night and the night before, but I definitely hit a wall yesterday afternoon. I was also very busy at the office, too–and I am busy again today, too. That’s okay–I’d rather be busy than bored, but some slow time to keep up with other job duties is always appreciated.

But after I started the dishwasher and moved the clothes into the dryer, I changed into my usual at-home leisure wear (LSU sweats) and plopped down into my easy chair–Sparky immediately climbed into my lap once I had the ice machine affixed to my left leg, and he was MIFFED when I took the wrap around cuff off later, because he was lying against it and apparently liked the cold. Go figure. I watched the news about the collapse of an empire until I couldn’t stand it any longer, and switched over to my current obsession, The Traitors-UK, which is so much fun I can barely stand it, before I started nodding off in my chair and went to bed early.

I also finally finished my long-overdue newsletter–about being a DEI author; you can read it here if you’d like; you can even subscribe! My mind has been so scattered these past few weeks–really, since Mardi Gras, to be completely honest–that it took me longer than it should have. I put so many bullet points into it that I wanted to cover, but wasn’t able to because it was getting very long, which means that I’ll have to do another one to finish covering everything I wanted to cover, but perhaps I can make the next one about diversity panels–which is actually how it originally started, but through the writing/editing process I realized that wasn’t the way into talking about life as a DEI author, and wrote a whole new opening to it. I have to say, it did feel nice to get it done and out of the way at last, but it’s also part and parcel of this ADHD-addled brain stuff I’ve been experiencing this year. I do think the last couple of weeks–between not feeling well and water-boil advisories (this week’s was lifted yesterday morning so I could shave this morning and do the dishes last night) I’ve been quite unsettled lately and unable to focus for very long on anything. Sigh. But I am going to give it the old college try and start work on the next newsletter and maybe some fiction. It literally can’t hurt, right?

Indeed, hope springs eternal.

But so far so good this morning. We have water pressure, safe drinking water, and I am not feeling sick or under the weather in any way, shape, or form. I think this weekend is the Irish Channel St. Patrick’s Day parade, which means street closures, lots of drunken pedestrians, and parade traffic in Uptown, so I have to plan my weekend errands and chores around it. And yes, it is this Saturday; so any errands involved heading up town are out of the question, which is fine. It starts at Magazine and Felicity and ends at Jackson and Annunciation, but it does go along St, Charles, too. I suppose I can get uptown by taking Race to Tchoupitoulas and head up and back that way, but…hassle. I had hoped to get everything done on Saturday morning so I could get home and stay there, but it’s still possible–I could go shop and make groceries on the West Bank or Carrollton.

There’s always an answer, you know.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow morning.

View of the Karnak temple from the Nile

Sad Songs (Say So Much)

I don’t feel very Christmassy this year, but nor do I fall into the bah humbug category of Christmas. It’s interesting that when it comes to this particular holiday, it seems as though reactions are predicated on diametric polar opposites; you either love it or hate it. I fall into neither category; it’s just another day. I like the idea behind Christmas; reflecting on peace on earth and goodwill toward my fellow man, and so on. Those are lovely sentiments, but aren’t they things we should think about and focus on the entire year, rather than the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas? Maybe I am a humbug, I don’t know. It doesn’t help that I am ill.

My diaphragm is sore and I have a slight sinus headache and I feel like I have to cough all the time. I’m not feverish, and it’s more of a meh feeling than anything else. It’s the tickle in the back of my throat that’s especially making me nuts. And the soreness of my throat and the diaphragm, and the medicine-head feeling from the DayQuil. Paul seems to be doing better; it looked like he was at death’s door a couple of days ago, but he seems to be slowly coming out of it. I am hoping I’ll be over it by Friday, which starts my four-day weekend. I’m sure, though, once I get showered and cleaned up, stop at CVS for some cough drops etc, I’ll feel much better. At least I certainly hope so. I have a busy day at the office, and then of course tonight is the office Christmas party.

And at least I’m not congested. If I were, I’d have to kill myself.

I’ve started and given up on several young adult novels over the past few days as well–including some that were critically acclaimed and award winners. None of them passed the fifty page rule, and they all went into the donation pile. While it felt good to get the TBR pile down a bit, I was enormously disappointed; but A. S. King’s Reality Boy was so good it was bound to make anything I read after look not as good. And getting the TBR pile down is always a good thing, don’t you think? One would hope, at any rate.

I’ve become obsessed with Joan Didion, and I think my next read will be her A Book of Common Prayer. It’s kind of astonishing to me that I’ve never read anything she’s written (Miami is my current non-fiction read; I love the way she writes. I’m also thinking, re: a conversation I had with my friend Susan, about writing a memoir in the form of personal essays. This of course is the ultimate in hubris; why do I feel my observations and my experiences are so amazing that they need to be shared? But…it’s been an interesting life, and even if it doesn’t get published, it will help me personally to write such a thing. I actually started the other day because I don’t have enough else to do, right?).

And on that note, I’m going to straighten up this mess in the kitchen and get ready for work.

Adam-Ashley-Cooper-speedo-nsw-waratahs