Tag: National Geographic

You’re All I’ve Got Tonight

Thursday! Interestingly enough, after being so pleased yesterday morning and bragging about not having had insomnia in a long time was a mistake. I woke up around three this morning and never went back to sleep–if I did, it wasn’t very deep and I was waking up every ten minutes or so. This means I will hit a wall today, and probably earlier than I have been lately. I wanted to run errands on the way home from work tonight, but it’s not looking good. If I am worn out, I won’t want to drive uptown and should probably just come straight home. I need a few things from the grocery, but I might just have them delivered instead.

Unspeakable Sins continues to enthrall. Our primary villain was murdered in last night’s episode, and everyone in the main cast is a suspect (the episode was very “Who Shot JR?” in its staging and writing and very well done) and we’re on to the last three episodes of the season, which we should finish off tonight.

Well, I didn’t finish or post this yesterday. I am not sure why that happened, but I started doing some other things before getting ready for work and when I got home last night, I was surprised to see I’d never finished or posted this. I was right about yesterday–I was very tired when I got off work, but decided to do some of the errands on the way home. I picked up the mail, picked up three books I’d ordered (the new Donna Andrews, the new Scott Carson, and The Hunting Wives), but forgot to pick up prescriptions, which means I have to go back uptown today–which I’d hoped to avoid. I was extremely tired when I got home, and started watching a new National Geographic documentary about Katrina. I decided to bite the bullet and see how watching it went; if it was a trigger, I would stop watching. I didn’t finish the first episode, because Paul came home and we watched the new South Park1 and laughed our asses off before watching the final three episodes of Unspeakable Sins, which was excellent–and wrapped up everything, but also left us with a final shot that could be the set up for a second season should it be renewed.

Watching the documentary wasn’t triggering at all–at least not what I’d seen by the time Paul got home–and so I am going to finish watching it this weekend. I think twenty years was enough time for the PTSD to finally end (I am also taking anti-anxiety medication, which could help with this). We were able to watch Five Days at Memorial, which was a reenactment of what happened at that hospital with an emotional remove; maybe because it wasn’t actual documentary footage but a reenactment with Hollywood stars, I don’t know. Paul and I did watch it for a bit before I put on South Park, and we were remembering our own evacuation all those years ago without any sadness or emotion; it was nostalgia–I can smile about it now, I suppose, but we were so terrified on I-10 East and worried we wouldn’t get out in time. I also remember it started raining as we were on the twin spans to Slidell over the lake. Sigh. I was thinking I might post my essay “I Haven’t Stopped Dancing Yet” to my newsletter, but it is over twenty thousand words long.

Or I could write another one., from my current perspective. We’ll see.

I’m not making big plans to get a lot done this weekend, as that never seems to work out for me and that always starts a guilt spiral. Who needs that in their life? Certainly not me! I have a meeting at ten and some day job duties to get done today. I have Monday off as well; it’s my final infusion and I couldn’t get my usual nine a.m. appointment so I could go to work after; this time they only had eleven a.m., which is smack dab in the middle of the day so I decided to use some sick time and just come home after I am done. I can also pick up lunch while I’m out in Metairie. I’m going to try to be a homebody this weekend, because I know the infusion is going to fatigue me. I may just read the rest of that day and rest.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later!

The Avenue of the Sphinxes connecting the temples at Luxor and Karnak, Egypt
  1. I have thoughts and concerns about this season, which is brilliant. ↩︎

Run Riot

Wednesday Pay-the-Bills Day has rolled around yet again! Seems like it was just yesterday, doesn’t it? Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping into the future…sorry for the musical interlude1, but surely I cannot be the only one who writes a sentence that’s a song lyric and has the song itself crowd its way into my consciousness? My life has always had a soundtrack; music has always been important to me, and I love listening to it. I wish I had any musical ability, really. I can’t sing and I play no instruments…well, I can sing in the sense that we can all do so, but doing it well? That’s a whole other subject.

I found out this week that National Geographic included the Tennessee Williams Literary Festival/Saints & Sinners as one of the top literary festivals in the world! How fucking cool is that? If you want to see it, you can click above to get there. Paul is very good at his job, I have to say.

I wrote last night. It was editing/rewriting/revising work, so I don’t know how much work I actually did2, but the file was a couple of dozen words over four thousand when I started and when I finished, working from front to back (as one does), it was a few words past five thousand. Some came easily, some did not; but when it would be difficult I didn’t give up but thought some more and looked ahead and back and it worked, I got unstuck. It felt good to write, I didn’t once have a moment of doubting myself or Imposter Syndrome3, which really made me feel better about everything and good about myself. It’s easy to slip into depression and bad thoughts when I am not writing, or am having difficulty with it. I am also looking forward to getting back to work tonight after work as well.

I have to run errands tonight on the way home from work; I’d rather not, to be honest, but we’re halfway through the week and said errands will cut down on leaving the house on the weekend, which is looming. Now that I am getting back into my writing every day I hope to get a lot done this weekend. I’d love to work through the month of August–despite the heat and tropical weather–so I can get everything finished by Labor Day so I can spend September figuring out what to write next. I also have a lot of short stories I need to revise and rework and get out on submission somewhere…anywhere.

We had a nice thunderstorm last night as I finished my writing work; thunder and lightning and a downpour, none of which were mentioned in the forecast. The heat advisory is still in place, and today’s forecast was updated to include a thunderstorm later this morning, and throughout the afternoon. Clearly the forecast changed since yesterday morning, as the rain was for later in the week. AH, well, I don’t mind rain as long as I am not out in it. Paul was home late–he waited to come home until the storm passed–and so we watched another episode of The Hunting Wives, which continues to be a trashy joy on the lines of classic television like Dynasty or Melrose Place. I actually hope Paul will be home earlier so we can watch two episodes tonight. Dermot Mulroney is also aging like a really fine wine…

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines and need to start paying bills. Have a great day, and I may be back later. You never know.

I’m developing a crush on handsome Will Sharpe.
  1. I’m also rediscovering my enjoyment of the Steve Miller Band. ↩︎
  2. I always measure it by word counts. ↩︎
  3. I am trying to not be so hard on myself, and Imposter Syndrome is one of those things that needs to be in the rearview mirror. ↩︎

Love Is Like an Itching in My Heart

Saturday!

I slept very well last night. I got my day job work done during the day, I got two more chapters revised and edited last night, and Paul and I watched the latest episode of Servant last night (which is very bizarre and we are no longer sure we are following it, but it’s well produced and well acted, so it’s always interesting to watch), and then I watched a short National Geographic documentary about the Renaissance Popes (an episode from their series Pope), which was interesting–but it didn’t cover much more ground than Barbara Tuchman covered in her section on them in March of Folly.

Today dawns bright and sunny with a gorgeous, cloudless pigeon’s egg sky out there. I have some emails I have to do this morning, and I have to run some errands (prescriptions, mail) this morning (I am saving groceries for tomorrow). I also have to buy a new all-in-one printer as my latest one lost wifi capabilities yesterday for some reason, ergo rendering it utterly useless for my needs (just as well, I had just run out of ink and needed to buy more; money saved by the death of the printer) so when I go run my errands, the last thing I will do is swing by Office Depot on St. Charles to purchase a new one. I think they have a decent one at a reasonable price in stock; if they don’t, I’ll have to check either Best Buy or Target, neither of which is an option I particularly want to indulge myself in at the moment. Although a trip to the West Bank would also mean I could get lunch at Sonic, so…decisions, decisions. (Paul and I were, in fact, just last night talking about how we don’t really eat fast food at all anymore–he stopped at McDonalds on his way home from getting his hair cut in the Quarter yesterday) I’ve gained back some of the weight I lost last year, alas; not sure how that happened, precisely, but have no doubt that there’s a connection to me not going to the gym in months, for sure. Once this book is done….or at least under more control, at any rate…maybe on Monday afternoon when I am finished with my work-at-home duties. I am hoping to get three chapters of the book done today, which means I have to write/revise and polish the final two chapters over the next few days as well as go through and polish and tweak (hence the need for a printer) before finally turning it in and diving into the Bouchercon anthology work, which needs to be concluded by the end of February. I also have a short story due in early February–and next weekend I am going to Alabama for the Murder in the Magic City/Murder on the Menu weekend in Birmingham and Wetumpka. (Note to self: get an audiobook for the drive.)

So much to do, so little time, so little opportunity for procrastination, laziness and pushing things off until tomorrow, right?

Heavy heaving sigh.

But there’s also cleaning to do around here, filing as always, and some book organization is also needed. I am not feeling particularly overwhelmed in any sense this morning, which is always a really good thing, and I feel confident that I can get everything finished that I need to get finished as well as get a jump on future things that need to get finished. I am really looking forward to spending some time every week getting rid of paper files, too–you have no idea how much I am looking forward to that; realistically, there’s no reason for me to keep paper files on anything unless it’s something I am currently working on; otherwise it can remain electronic; and realistically, I can donate a back-up hard drive to an archive mush easier than I can sort and organized paper files…and if they don’t want that, well, then that’s the end of that, you know.

And I still will have gotten rid of all the fucking paper files.

So, win-win?

And on that note tis time for me to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader!

Everything is Good About You

Friday morning and all is quiet in the Lost Apartment.

It’s in the thirties here this morning and very gray outside, which is not typical unless it’s raining. Rain is in the forecast today–yesterday’s dramatic thirty degree temperature drop was supposed to be the result of rain but we never really got much, in all honesty–but it also doesn’t feel as cold as it should at this temperature, if that makes any sense? The last time it was in the 30’s here a week or so ago it was bitterly cold inside the Lost Apartment, but it’s not that bad today. Maybe because I knew it was coming so I layered when I got up this morning and turned on the space heater next to my desk? (Our heat is still not working.) Regardless, I don’t feel as miserable today as I did the last time it was this cold, so I am taking that as a win.

Paul has been buried with work trying to get the programs for the festivals finished, so I’ve been at loose ends in the evenings this week. I’ve been very fatigued every night, and with Scooter sleeping in my lap (not affection, he’s cold–don’t get me wrong, he is affectionate, but I can tell when body heat is the driving factor in his affection; it has to do with how he cuddles when he’s cold), I’ve found myself dozing off in my chair while I watch some documentary about history (last night, I learned how and why Hanover and Great Britain went their own separate ways; about Queen Barbara Radziwill of Poland; how Catherine de Medici earned her horrible reputation and was it deserved; and how the curse of the last Grand Master of the Knights Templar is often given credit for the extinction of the main line of the Capetian royal family in France–some of these things I already had some knowledge of, but it’s always nice to learn more. Sometimes these documentaries are intended for people with absolutely no knowledge of history or the time period being discussed; I find that ones that originated with the BBC, National Geographic, or the Youtube channel Kings and Generals often have interesting little nuggets of information I didn’t know before; I was just thinking last night how much more interesting French history is than English–no offense to the English, of course; the French are just more all over the place). Barbara Radziwill was an important player in the sixteenth century, which was what sucked me into that video; as Constant Reader is already aware, I’ve always wanted to write a popular history of the sixteenth century by examining all of the powerful women of that century; it was one of the few times in history when women rose to power regularly and across Europe, and naturally the title would be The Monstrous Regiment of Women, taken from the misogynistic tome by John Knox and about that very thing: women in power.

I did manage to work on the book last night, which was nice–I was starting to worry about it, frankly–and I did get some other work done that needed doing. Today I am data entering for the day job most of the day, as I shiver a bit and try to figure out if I actually want to leave the house today (I am leaning towards not, frankly) before digging back into the manuscript. I also need to consult my to-do list to make sure I am following it despite not looking at it–and I suspect I will be horribly disappointed in myself when I finally get to it and see how there’s nothing to be crossed off from it. Heavy heaving sigh. But avoiding the list is also avoiding the tasks, so the list must be faced.

So many things must be faced this morning. My email inbox is getting more under control, so that’s always a pleasant thing and a big surprise, but there are emails that need responses that I haven’t gotten to yet–which just reminded me I had a DM on Facebook I need to reply to; please don’t ever contact me there if you want a response because I get a lot of junk DM’s there and so things tend to get pushed down and not get answered unless I remember to go looking for it (that is today’s PSA of how to reach me and get a response).

I also managed to proof my story “This Thing of Darkness” for Cupid Shot Me, which will release on Valentine’s Day (natch). It’s always lovely to get another short story out there for people to read; I love short stories and I love writing them–I do find them much harder to do than writing novels, for example–and it’s also an excellent editorial exercise for me: why is this story not working? Sometimes I can figure it out, sometimes I can’t. I just got asked this morning about writing for another anthology, which I even already have a story ready for; which means I need to take it out and reread and revise it. Yay!

And on that note, tis time to return to the spice mines. That data ain’t gonna enter itself, alas. Talk to you tomorrow, Constant Reader, and have a wonderful Friday.

Respect Yourself

Saturday, and a big day for one Gregalicious.

I have some things to do this morning before I am interviewed around noon for a radio show, after which it’s errands, including the (groan) grocery store. It’s only for a few things, so it shouldn’t be too hideous….yet it is going to be hideous. Sigh. But then I am spending the afternoon watching the Iron Bowl and tonight’s LSU game. Will the Tigers manage an undefeated regular season? We’ll find out tonight.

It’s going to be weird going back to work–these unstructured, do-what-you-want-when-you-want days have been kind of lovely, and addicting. I don’t have any regrets about the things I didn’t get done, either. I went into this week without making a to-do list, and primarily rested, physically, mentally and emotionally.  I’m very happy that I chose to do this, and rested rather than drove myself insane trying to get things done, or playing catch-up. I didn’t do as much cleaning and organizing as I thought I would, but that’s just how the week managed to play itself out. My kitchen is a mess this morning, so I need to get that all straightened up and cleaned, and there’s some laundry to fluff and fold. I also have to pay the bills this morning–another odious chore–but one that cannot be avoided any longer.

There’s also no Saints game tomorrow–so if I want, I can get a lot done tomorrow–whether writing, reading, or cleaning.

Last night I stumbled onto a documentary series on the National Geographic channel about the 1980’s; I’d already watched the CNN docuseries, The 80’s, and tremendously enjoyed it, so as I was killing some time before Paul got home, I settled in and started watching. I’m not much for nostalgia, really; I don’t spend a lot of time looking back on my past or the events of my life too frequently. The past is the past, and while one can learn from it, after all, one certainly can’t change anything that happened in the past. But watching these docuseries is a kind of reminder; and this series was called The Decade That Made Us, which I thought was an interesting take. A lot of stuff that started in the 1980’s, naturally, is bearing fruit today–cell phones, personal computers, etc.–and of course, it’s always difficult to watch and remember the 80’s in terms of HIV/AIDS–you simply cannot do a docuseries about the 1980’s and not mention HIV/AIDS, or remember that it wasn’t, really, that long ago. (Sure, it’s getting further and further into the past with each day, but still–1980 was forty years ago; in 1980 the second world war was only forty years in the past.)

But one of the novellas in progress I am writing, “Never Kiss a Stranger,” is set in the not too distant past; 1994, to be exact. I’ve always written, for the most part, in the ambiguous present, with a few exceptions (“The Weight of a Feather” is one; it’s set in the early 1950’s), and it can be a bit difficult at times to remember, no he wouldn’t have had a computer or cell phone and trying to remember how we functioned without instant, immediate access to each other. (There was a really funny part in the docuseries last night where someone basically said that–“how did we meet up before cell phones? We made plans, days in advance, and included directions like “meet me under the clock at Grand Central at 4″…I had forgotten, or rather just not thought about, that….) It’s interesting trying to remember what 1994 was like, who I was back then and what was going on in the world. My main character is a  gay man who has just retired from the military, having found out he was about to be purged as a gay (gays in the military was a political battle the Clinton administration was fighting back then; “don’t ask don’t tell” was the disgraceful compromise that came out of that fight–but it was, pathetic as it was, better than the previous system, which was dishonorable discharges.) and, with no family left that he’s close to, decides to come to New Orleans to start a new chapter of his life as an openly gay man at thirty-nine, and what that experience is like. There’s some element of crime and suspense to the story, but it’s really about that feeling of liberation when you’re finally free to be yourself, while still living in the shadow of HIV/AIDS. I love the idea of this story, and am having fun writing it, remembering what New Orleans was like back then, and what it was like to be gay in New Orleans at that time, as well.

I may never do anything with it, but I’m having fun writing it, and that’s really the most important thing.

I am seriously considering doing a collection of novellas, like Stephen King’s Different Seasons, but am not sure if there’s a market or an audience for it. I already know what the next novella would be, and then all I need to do is come up with two more.

Heavy sigh. Like it’s that easy, right?

Ah, well. And now back to the spice mines.

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