Tag: Time's Undoing

Take a Bow

Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment and I slept well–I wanted to stay in bed for another few hours, but got up anyway and am now sitting in my kitchen remembering that there was a time change and it’s actually later than I thought. Sigh. So I didn’t get up early after all, did I? I hate Daylight Savings Time and wish we could do away with it once and for all; didn’t Congress take this up last year or something, and didn’t it look like this pointless time change was going to be a thing of the past, or was that merely a fever dream brought on by the pandemic or something?

Yesterday wound up being a wasted day for me. I had some things to do yesterday morning that had to be done–some emails I’d been putting off because I knew they would be triggering, and I was right. I’m still not certain the most important one was worded correctly or the right thing to say at all, but when I finally finished it–it took me several hours to compose it and myself–I was emotionally drained and in a grief spiral, so I decided to spend some time with Scooter sleeping in my lap to make me feel better. I wound up actually drained and exhausted and fatigued, so I simply stayed there. Paul didn’t go into the office yesterday (he is going today) and we finally spent some time together last night, getting caught up on Servant (which is really phenomenal; Lauren Ambrose doesn’t get near the credit as an actress that she should; there’s a scene in the second to last episode–the series finale is this Friday–that can be Ms. Ambrose’s Emmy reel; the scene where her husband and brother finally come clean with the secret they’ve been keeping from her since the first episode is a master class in acting, and it’s all done with her facial expressions, and it’s a tour-de-force), and then the first episode of Outer Banks. We were both getting sleepy, so we put on a true crime documentary series (Two Shallow Graves, which is quite interesting; we figured if we fell asleep it would be okay because we could rewatch it if necessary without necessarily spoiling anything) and finally repaired to bed (later) than I thought it was (stupid time change), which is already throwing me off this morning.

I am still digesting Cheryl A. Head’s marvelous Time’s Undoing, which I finished yesterday morning and greatly enjoyed. I was hoping to spend some time with my next read this morning….but I’ve already lost an hour. Maybe instead of reading this morning, I’ll finish this and get cleaned up and write for a few hours before curling up with a good book later on this afternoon. Paul is going to see his trainer this morning and then to the office, so he’ll be out of my hair for most of the day so I should be able to get a lot of editing and so forth done, as well as some planning for future writing. There’s also always cleaning and filing to get done; yesterday after the depression set in was pretty much a wasted day. But I’m not going to beat myself up over the lost day; it is what it is and nothing I can do now can ever change that, so I am going to be kind to myself and recognize that, while still disappointing, there’s a significant difference between deciding to be lazy and blow off the entire day as opposed to being so overwhelmed that you can’t do anything. (This being kind to myself thing I am trying this year is such an outlook change that it’s not reflexive and I always have to process myself into it; maybe at some point it will become reflexive and…yeah, I don’t see it becoming reflexive any time soon)

Oh, yes, and the Oscars are on tonight. My interest in awards shows has declined as I’ve gotten older; sometimes I wonder if my gradual growing antipathy for awards shows I used to look forward to when I was younger has anything to do with my own eligibility for awards since getting published? Don’t get me wrong; I don’t object to awards by any means, but they also aren’t why I do what I do. It’s always nice to be recognized, especially by your peers and especially when you’ve always felt like an outsider rather than a peer. But while winning an Oscar (or even being nominated) can change a film industry member’s career for the better, do book awards make a difference to someone’s career if they aren’t the National Book Award or the Pulitzer Prize? I do think it’s important to recognize excellence in the field, but awards are just as subjective as anything else, and when an award is decided by a panel of judges..well, a different panel of judges might not come up with the exact same shortlist and winner, either. It isn’t like you can campaign to win an Edgar–but there are awards for mystery novels that you can campaign for, and the campaigning always makes me uncomfortable. In the beginning, I hated asking people for votes and wouldn’t do it. Then I started adding my eligible stuff to Gabriel Valjan’s awards-eligibility lists, which he compiles every year for every award as their nominations period open up.

Last year was the first time I actually made a little announcement on social media that hey, Bury Me in Shadows is eligible for the Anthony for Best PBO because there wasn’t a children’s/young adult category on the ballot. A second ballot was sent out at the almost last-minute because they’d inadvertently left that category off the ballot, so…figuring I didn’t have a prayer at a Best PBO nomination, I asked people to write me in on their ballot for y/a. IMAGINE my shock to wind up nominated in both categories (I lost both, PBO to Jess Lourey and Y/A to Alan Orloff; it’s lovely to lose to friends because you can be happy for them rather than disappointed at losing–losing to someone you don’t like or respect is an entirely different situation); so this year I figured I had nothing to lose by asking for votes–and wound up nominated for a Lefty for A Streetcar Named Murder and an Agatha for #shedeservedit, so go figure, you know?

Another reason I stopped caring or watching the Oscars is because they’ve become so predictable in every category in every year that there are no fun surprises, or if there are any, they are so few and far-between that watching become tedious (although one delightful surprise was Olivia Colman’s win for The Favourite a few years ago); but there doesn’t seem to be a clear cut winner in every category this year, even though I will go out on a limb and predict Oscars for Brendan Fraser (everyone loves a comeback story), Michelle Yeoh, Ke Huy Quan (another comeback story), and Jamie Lee Curtis. The two actresses will not only be rewarded for their work in the film but also for lengthy, glorious careers that have never been recognized before; while the two men are feel-good comeback stories. I’ve not seen Everything Everywhere All At Once, but I do think it’s trending to win everything. (If I had to chose, Barry Keoghan probably deserves an award for The Banshees of Inisherin; to me his was the strongest performance in a film I really disliked.)

And on that note, I am going to get another cup of coffee and head into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll check back in with you later.

The Way We Were

I am both of the South and not of the South.

My people are from Alabama, as we say down here, but I didn’t grow up there. My parents moved north for better opportunities and for a better life for the two of them and their young children, and over the years since I’ve lived all over the country and grew up in vastly different places and cultures than that in which my parents were raised. I kind of have a love/hate relationship with the region; I am both proud of my roots and yet embarrassed and ashamed a bit at the same time. That’s really the thing with being a Southern white man of a certain age; how do you reconcile your family’s history, and the history of where you’re from, when there is so much ugliness and darkness?

Someone told me once I was a coward for never dealing with race in my work, and there was enough truth in that statement to make it sting a bit. Are there things in past works of mine that are problematic? I’ve never gone back to reread them with that in mind–when I do actually force myself to reread them–but I know I am more enlightened now than I was twenty years ago, so it wouldn’t be the least bit surprising to realize I wrote something that wouldn’t hold up to present-day scrutiny. But I also know that if someone ever told me I wrote something in the past that was an issue in the present I would listen to their concerns and not get defensive or double-down. I do not set out to upset people or hurt their feelings, but that doesn’t mean it can’t happen.

Which also leads to an ethical question I’ve often debated within my own head about: is it better when someone says something hurtful inadvertently, or if they do it on purpose? If it’s done on purpose, they had to put thought into it, which is bad…but isn’t it just as bad to be hurtful without thinking? To me, that reads as “I don‘t care enough to think about it” and how is that better?

But this weekend I finished reading Cheryl A. Head’s brilliant stand-alone novel Time’s Undoing, and what a joy it was to read.

Four hours ’til dawn. The single streetlamp at the alleyway splays veiled illumination on the wet pavement. The rumble and squeak of streetcars ended two hours ago, and the in-a-hurry owner of the diner hauls out the last of the garbage, which tumbles onto the slick red bricks as he slams the door.

Cress lifts the collar of his tight-fitting jacket against curly brown hair. Alert. Smoking. Shufting from one leg to the other. Leaning into the shadows every time he hears loud voices from the street.

I can’t feel the rain nor smell it, but I sense its fragrance misxed with the relentless forsythia creeping through every patch of dirt. Anna Kate often remarked that the flowers were her favorite part of living in Birmingham.

A car engine hums louder. Cress metls into the darkness when a blue sedan eases forward and idles under the lamp. The sight of it passes a shiver my body doesn’t recognize. Cress steps forward and drops his smoke, grinding the butt under his boot. He shoves both hands deep into the pockets of his dungarees.

I had the great pleasure of meeting Cheryl years ago at a Saints and Sinners, and shortly thereafter became a voracious reader of her Charlie Mack series. We were both nominated for Anthony Awards for Best Paperback Original at Bouchercon last year (neither of us won) but it was so cool to be sharing the short-list with another queer writer (I don’t think two queer writers have ever been nominated in the same category before, so we might have made some history together there, too) that I am still agog and aglow from the entire experience. Over the past few years while Cheryl was working on this book, we would do panels or readings together (pandemic ZOOM events) and she would talk about it–and every time she did I’d think girl you need to finish this because I want to read the hell out of it, so you can imagine my joy when my copy finally arrived in the mail.

Oh. My. GOD. This. Book. Is. Incredible.

The book was born of fact; Cheryl’s great-grandfather was murdered by a Birmingham cop back in the Jim Crow days, and the truth behind that murder remains a mystery. Cheryl took the family story and wrote a book around it, and it’s powerful and moving and beautifully written and structured. The love and care Cheryl takes with this painful family history and weaving it into a fictional tale with something powerful to say is evident on every page. The book focuses on main character Meghan, from Detroit, who is doing a series for the Detroit Free Press about Black Lives Matter, and how she uses that as a hook into the story of her great-grandfather’s murder, which brings her to modern-day Birmingham to do research and see if she can find the answers her family has never known for almost ninety years.

The story is structured with two time-lines; Meghan’s present-day investigation, and what went on back in 1929.

Time’s Undoing is one of the most powerful books I’ve read in a while. It’s brilliantly written, and Meghan is a likable, relatable character that is easy for a reader to connect and engage with, root for, and the 1929 sequences are also strongly rendered; bringing a by-gone age back to vivid and ugly life–but it’s also a story of resilience and recovery, and living with a back-breaking sorrow while still being able to find joy in life.

Cheryl has always been one of our strongest voices, getting better and growing more confident in her talent with each book. Time’s Undoing is going to be one of 2023’s strongest titles and will be making many short-lists when award season rolls around again.

Don’t Stop the Music

Ah, it’s marvelous having a dryer again. And it’s an upgrade from the last one, which actually cost more, so winning on chore fronts here in the Lost Apartment.

Which says a lot about how spoiled I am. My grandmother used to wash the clothes in an agitator on her back porch that she had to fill with hot water and had a ringer to crush excess water out of the clothes before hanging them on the line. IMAGINE how long that must have taken, and how long it took for the clothes to dry in the heat and humidity of an Alabama summer when it could also rain at any moment without notice. Modern conveniences are quite marvelous, really, and I don’t think we appreciate how much time they actually do save us. Granted, I could load all the laundry up in the back of the car and go to a laundromat and get it all finished in about two hours; but that’s two hours where I would have to sit in a laundromat and either read/ or stare at my phone…and it’s never really quite comfortable in a laundromat anywhere. Also, the one around the corner closed due to the pandemic so yeah, I’d have to get in the car and take it somewhere, and have coins and all that nonsense; although I suppose with all the marvelous modern technology that has sprung up since the last time I went to a laundromat (when the washing machine was broken and we were waiting for its replacement) would enable people to use electronic payments? I don’t know, and I’d prefer to never find out, quite frankly.

But you know something? Sitting at my desk doing data entry to the washing machine agitating and the dryer tumbling and heating was weirdly comforting; a return to my normal Friday routine of chores and day-job duties–almost like the world has been slightly tilted off its axis for a while and has finally settled back into the way it’s supposed to be around here. I also wound up having to run my errands after work yesterday, because I remembered (fortunately, thank you, Facebook) that today is the St. Patrick’s Day parade, which makes access to everywhere I would need to go nearly impossible or an enormous time-consuming pain in the ass. So I picked up the mail and made groceries after I finished work yesterday, and will see about washing the car on Sunday (and possibly a trip to the Fresh Market, since it’s right there). Saturday will be my day of not leaving the house, which is probably for the best–although I do need to take clothes to the dry cleaners. Hmmm. They aren’t open on Sunday. Hmmm. *adds dry cleaning to Saturday to-do list*

I had to disassemble the bottom shelf of the laundry room so they could remove the non-heating dryer and install our new one, and once I finished my work for the day I started putting the room back together again–I have framed covers of my books on the walls in there, and I had taken those down too. I started putting the covers up not remembering where they were originally and I thought well, who wants it to look the same again for the next ten years anyway and so I just started hanging them wherever. The same with the books. I had to put the shelf back and then the books; so I started reorganizing and pruning, and then started working my way through the upper shelves to make it at least look neat, if cluttered. The fun thing about doing this sort of thing is you start unearthing treasures–“oh, there that is!” and “Oh, I’d forgotten about you!” and “oh yes, I still want to write that story this was research for” and “Oh, yes, definitely want to reread that sometime” and “Oh, I am so far behind on her series!” that makes it kind of like an adventure and less like an odious chore.

Plus, making it all neater looking to the eye pleases my OCD, and I can fold my arms with a smug sense of satisfaction when I look at them. Now if only I can accomplish the same in the living room…

I slept really well last night, and even stayed up later than usual. Paul came home last night (!!!) and we watched the LSU-West Virginia gymnastics meet, which was way fun, and then this week’s The Mandalorian. I did wind up staying later than I would have preferred–not sure how that happened, to be honest–but I feel very rested and relaxed today, which means I think it will be a good and productive day. Paul has his trainer later this morning and then will head off to the office, so I have the day to myself to clean and write and read and do Gregalicious things. Once I finish this I am going to repair to my easy chair with my coffee and Cheryl Head’s Time’s Undoing, which I am looking forward to finishing–it’s sooooo good–and getting my act together. This week I am seeing my doctor about my toe (appointment on Thursday afternoon) and I need to make the ENT appointment as well as try to get my dentistry needs taken care of, and I should probably make an eye appointment, too. Maintenance becomes increasingly important the older you get, you know. The toe is much better–still hurts, but not throbbing –and of course, by the time I see the doctor, it’ll probably be all fine and he’ll think I’m completely insane, not that he doesn’t already.

Most people do, at any rate.

But the new dryer just beeped which means the last load from yesterday has finished drying, and I am going to go fold some clothes, perhaps put some dishes away (there’s a load in the dishwasher, too, clean) and then read while I swill the rest of my morning coffee. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I may check in with you again later.

S. O. S.

Work at home Friday and waiting on my dryer to be delivered and installed, which is quite lovely and exciting. Huzzah! I am probably going to be getting caught up on laundry all day once it arrives. There’s something zen about folding clothes, seriously. I do have to move some things around, but I have some time yet to enjoy my coffee and type this before they get here. I am really excited about my new dryer–but the one I am really looking forward to is the new refrigerator. The window period is 8:45 to 10:45, and if I remember correctly, once they are here they’ll be in and out in twenty minutes, tops.

It is sad how forward I am looking to doing some laundry.

I was tired again yesterday when I got off work, which is really par for the course this week. My body had that “relaxed-you-should-still-be-in-bed” feeling all day, and it was also a slower day without as many clients. The day just seemed to drag on endlessly, and then I came home to terrible exhaustion. I did start watching a documentary about Caril Fugate, The Twelfth Victim, which is interesting and i am looking forward to watching the rest. (I also love how one of the examples of the ‘simpler times’ which ended with whatever horrific true crime the show is about, they will always, always say “why, people never bothered to lock their doors!”) Was Caril a hostage or a participant? She was barely fourteen, and Starkweather was about four or five years older than she was; is it so hard to believe that she wasn’t a co-conspirator? But I need to watch the rest of the documentary to get a better idea of the facts of the case.

I am awake much earlier than I wanted to be; I had set the alarm for seven but woke up around five thirty, as usual, and finally gave up and got up around six thirty. I’ve cleaned off the bottom shelf in the laundry room and will probably need to take the shelf down entirely. I have to go outside and make sure the dryer will fit along the narrow footpath alongside the house and move things (garbage bins, planters) that might wind up being in the way. I may even have to roll the bins all the way back here to our little courtyard. I feel rested and well and relaxed this morning; last night, I must confess, was a little rougher than others have been this week, but Paul came home last night before I went to bed so I got to spend some time with him, which is rare and lovely when it happens this time of year. I do feel a bit of mental fatigue though; my emotions are still all over the place and I am still not entirely sure how I am supposed to be feeling, and what normal is in this situation; but I’ve also never been normal my entire life so why am I worried about it now? But today I am hoping, as I said, to get some cleaning and organizing around the house done today around and after my work-at-home duties, of which there are quite a few. The lack of a dryer, which has absolutely nothing to do with whether the apartment can be cleaned up or not, has made me feel off about the entire apartment ever since it broke; unsettled somehow, if that makes any kind of bizarre sense. But am I simply blaming that unsettled feeling on the dryer, when it’s actually part of the post-funeral grief still surfacing every now and then? Heavy heaving sigh. But I am looking forward to getting a lot done this weekend. I want to get the car washed and of course, as always, I have to make groceries at some point and pick up the mail (probably tomorrow, along with washing the car). I also need to drop books off at the library sale tomorrow, so I’ll need to be packing up some books today as well.

I also want to finish reading Cheryl’s book, which is quite marvelous and I’ve been itching to get back at it, irritated at being so tired when I get home from work that I can’t focus on reading it. I’ll make some time for it after I finish working today, and maybe I can get it finished tomorrow morning with my coffee.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. I need to get some stuff picked up and put away and of course go move things off the narrow walkway alongside the house. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check back in with you later.

Can’t Stop the World

Monday morning has rolled around again and I am up before the sun rises yet again. Neither brain nor body wanted me to get up and heed the siren song of the alarm, but there was no escaping the inevitably of getting up and heading into the office yet again. Yesterday was a mixture of days; I got things done in the morning but after making groceries, I was oddly tired and physically exhausted. I did manage to read a few more chapters of Cheryl Head’s marvelous Time’s Undoing, which is very good and I’m enjoying it a lot, even as I wince at the past sections set in 1929, at its unerring and accurate depiction of the Jim Crow South. I honestly, as a Southern man, see no problem with reading about Southern history accurately; and certainly, seeing Jim Crow through the eyes of people of Color is a reminder than no matter how bad I may have thought things were, it still wasn’t a reality I would have had to either face or deal with, and it was so much worse than I can ever imagine it–and I have a very vivid imagination. Yesterday’s exhaustion was unexpected and out of nowhere, particularly coming in the wake of two pretty good days and a good morning as well. But grief is sneaky like that, is never linear, and can literally come from nowhere. There’s also the issues involved with my bout of long COVID from last summer and how my energy levels have never really recovered from that, either.

And don’t even get me started on the memory issues.

I am hopeful for a good week; I know I’ll eventually start experiencing being tired from exerting myself at work; it’s interesting that someone with shyness issues like me has wound up working as a counselor–but one-on-one and with a purpose to the conversation makes it much easier than having a conversation with someone I’ve just met at a party. Small talk is literally my Kryptonite, and of course, being socially awkward is my lifelong jam.

I did rewatch Mildred Pierce last night on TCM after Paul went to the office, and once again I marvel at what a terrific film it was–melodramatic and over-the-top, for sure, but the addition of the murder rescued the movie from not working. I need to reread the book–it’s been a hot minute–but the one thing I’ve never really gotten from either is a sense of who Veda is and why she is the way she is; spoiled and rotten and manipulative. In order for Cain to get his point across about Mildred and her own obsession with mothering, Veda turns out to be horrible and one-dimensional; everyone sees that Veda is horrible except Mildred–obsessed with being the perfect mother and giving Veda everything, it’s also a smothering, all-encompassing kind of love that most teens would rebel against and struggle to get away from. I remember about ten years ago I wanted to write Veda’s point of view; either a retelling of the story from her point of view or a sequel to the novel (no murder, remember?) which picks up with Veda some years later, having parlayed her singing and musical talents into a film career. That’s one of the things I love the most about Cain’s work, really; so much can be read into it, and so many great ideas can be inspired by rereading his work. I’ve not read the entire Cain canon–that “never want to run out of books to read by any author” thing I struggle with–but I’ve read quite a bit. Chlorine is really my first real attempt to write a noir; I cannot wait to get back to work on that. It’s already been delayed for far too long, and once i get through these contracted books, Chlorine is going to be my focus.

Finally, right? LOL. But I do eventually get around to the projects I talk about writing for years, don’t I? I talked about the Kansas book for well over a decade before #shedeservedit saw print.

I think today is going to be a good day. I feel rested this morning, and I slept really well. The toe is still twinging; I am beginning to suspect it really is gout. I went to WebMD (which I always tell my clients not to do) and the list of foods to avoid? Everything I eat, basically. So, I am going to have to bite the bullet, schedule an appointment with my doctor, and get on with things, you know? I don’t why I’ve dithered and dicked around about this for so long, either. Just another thing I didn’t want to have to deal with so I kept kicking the can down the street, which isn’t wise. Nothing ever fixes itself, you know; a lesson I keep having to relearn over and over again. I also need to schedule an appointment with the hearing specialist, a dentist, and make an eye appointment while I am at it. Yay. But I need to start and keep up with all this routine maintenance, especially if I want to start going back to the gym in April. I also need to start doing push-ups, crunches, and stretch every day too. Maybe I will climb back on that horse this evening when I get home from the office; stranger things have happened in the past and will probably continue into the future as well. The kitchen is a mess, too; I made dinner last night, so when I get home tonight I’ll have to clean the kitchen again and maybe even get the rest of the straightening up taken care of as well. I am definitely going to be taking books to the library sale this coming Saturday, and I also want to wash the car this weekend and vacuum it all out. I also want to spend some more time with Cheryl’s book this evening. So, so much to do and work on and get done. I also have to start preparing for moderating panels for the two Festivals coming up in a couple of weeks…yikes.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Hope you have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again later.

You Can’t Walk In Your Sleep (If You Can’t Sleep)

Saturday!

The bad news is that the dryer’s issue wasn’t the thermal heating fuse, alas. I did manage to get the back off the dryer so I could replace said fuse, but even once I’d accomplished this feat, there was still no heat. So the problem is with the heating unit itself, and after pricing that, seeing how long it would take to get it in (assuming I could do it myself, but I watched a video and frankly, not comfortable with that)…I don’t think it’s worth me trying to accomplish. Realistically, we would need to call a technician/repairman whatever (minimum $200 just for showing up), and since the part also costs almost $200, it would only take another few hundred bucks or so more to get a new one. (Our dryer is 11 years old; dryers traditionally last on average, per Google, 7-10 years so we got more use out of this one than the last one.) Disposable society, remember? And if we get it from Costco, everything is included–delivery, installation, hauling away the old one–so….I guess we’re getting a new dryer at some point. Yay. We’ll also be getting a new refrigerator, too, at some point, probably after the Festivals are over. Hurray for new appliances.

Sigh.

But I’m proud of myself for at least trying to repair the dryer myself, and I am kind of proud that not only was I able to move the thing by myself but I was also able to take it all apart and put it all back together again without any issue or problem and it was much easier than I would have ever dreamed it would be. I suppose that comes from my longstanding feeling of not being particularly or especially masculine, so things like appliance repair and so forth seem like they’re out of my wheelhouse; primarily because I was always told I was clumsy and fumble-fingered and not dextrous at all, when the truth is I can pretty much do anything I want to do, if I put my mind to it and want to do it badly enough. (My mom was like that, too–she could literally do anything she decided to do. She decided to play golf, took some lessons and started winning golf tournaments. I was always terrible at golf, but like tennis–if I took lessons, wanted to do it badly enough, and put my mind to it, I’d probably be decent at it.) And now we have a definitive answer: yes, indeed, we need a new dryer. And I feel much better about spending the money because I tried to fix it and couldn’t because what needs doing was beyond my skill set comfort level. The heating coils and unit are too complicated for me, and they’re also too expensive to risk buying and then fucking them up–and I would be livid if I spent that money and fucked it up.

I think it’s also important to recognize one’s limitations and plan/live accordingly.

After failing to fix the dryer (but tried! I tried! I get credit for trying!), and sank into my easy chair to give Scooter a proper cushion to sleep on, I started the usual flipping through Youtube videos and began finding myself falling into a proper malaise and panic about any and everything and the usual spiral down into the pit of despair and I grabbed my spiraling brain with both hands (properly cleansed and sterilized first, of course) and said no you’re not going to do this snap out of it and get to work and I popped out of my chair and came into the kitchen and started. I filed, I created new files and put ones away; I put things that need priority attention this weekend into the nearest inbox; put books away and wiped down counters. I reorganized books in the laundry room and found places for things. I threw things away that were no longer of need, unless I need dusty things lying around, which I do not. I swept the living room and put things away and straightened up in there. I made a plan of action for today which I plan to stick to resolutely. And if I should start feeling lazy, or take a break that begins to turn into something longer and perhaps counter-productive, I plan to slap myself silly until I snap back out of it and dive back into, if not writing, then at least rereading and editing along as I go. I am way behind, way off schedule, and I can still get what I need and want to get done this year as long as I don’t allow distractions and other things draw my focus away from where it needs to be. I will still continue being kinder to myself than I have been most of my life–that horrible self-criticism default and dreadful little voice in my head seriously can go fuck themselves–because I don’t think I need to be so hard on myself to drive myself anymore. I am not the “loser” I was convinced that I was for so long. I don’t have to keep proving my worth and my value anymore. I may not be the best person that I can be–I can be a judgy bitch, without question or doubt–but I am competent and efficient and I work very hard and can produce good work.

I don’t need to prove anyone wrong anymore.

That was a lovely realization to come to, and I am glad that I had that lightbulb moment last night. I also know that I am probably still overly raw emotionally and in the midst of the inevitable mood swings that come in the wake of grief. I remember how it was after Paul was attacked, and after Katrina; there were good days and there were bad days, but the good days eventually began to outnumber the bad and things got better. And that’s how life works, isn’t it? (How profound.)

So, this morning I am going to drink coffee and after sending some emails, I will spend a couple of hours with Cheryl Head’s Time’s Undoing. After that I will get cleaned up thoroughly and get to work on my own work, which I will do (whilst cleaning around the writing and editing and revising) until five or six o’clock in the evening, at which time I will finish for the day and make Swedish meatballs for dinner. That sounds, to me at least, like a lovely plan. I hope you also have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again later, or tomorrow; one never knows, does on?

Automatic

Friday and working at home. I slept in a bit–almost to eight–but of course, the primary problem of getting up at six four mornings per week has of course trained Scooter that he gets breakfast at six every day, so at six every morning if he hasn’t been fed he raises holy hell. For a sweet cuddlebug of a cat, he can certainly yowl quite loudly when he puts his mind to it. So I got up and fed him before going back to sleep for another hour or so. I feel rested this morning, which is quite lovely when you are heading into a weekend with lots and lots to do; it’s nice to not feel tired in such a situation. I am going to try to fix the dryer this morning before I start working–wish me luck–and of course, the Lost Apartment, as always on Friday, has become a disaster area over the course of the week. But the weekend dawns anew, and so maybe, just maybe, I can maybe even get sort of caught up on what I am behind on?

Perish the thought, perchance to dream.

I am also looking forward to digging into Cheryl Head’s Time’s Undoing, which looks fantastic and I’ve been itching to read since I first learned of it, and of course, Bobby Mathews’ Living the Gimmick, which I am also excited to dip into. So many good books on hand to get through, so little time. Heavy heaving sigh. And of course, if I fix the dryer and it actually works–I am very nervous about this, as one can probably imagine; but I am equipped with Youtube videos to help and I do think it’s kind of sad that I am so unskilled with tools and so forth. The three things I wish I could do over? I wish I had taken Auto Shop and Typing in high school, and I wish I’d learned how to build things with, you know, hammers and wrenches and so forth. I hate not being able to feel confident about doing simple repair work, like replacing a fuse in a dryer (which may not be the issue with the dryer, but this is the only thing I can potentially do myself without calling in a repairman, at which point it’s probably less expensive to simply replace it–which is disgusting. We’ve really become, over the course of my life, a disposable society where it’s easier and less expensive to simply replace something rather than get it repaired), but I am also looking at it this way: even if the fuse wasn’t the problem–and I do think that’s what it is–if I can successfully move the dryer out, disassemble the back, and replace the fuse, I am going to take that as a win even if that doesn’t fix the problem, because at least I tried before simply replacing it.

Today feels like it might be a good day. Grief isn’t linear, as I am constantly being reminded by those who have been through this already, and I also instinctively know that; I can remember other traumatic life events in the past being this way; one day or two is a good day, then you have a low, shitty day, and so it goes, on and on ad nauseum, ad infinitum. I also kind of feel like I can actually get something written after work tonight? I do have some errands I need to run at some point later today–which is always exhausting–but I think I can get away with staying in most of the weekend. I do want to wash the car and vacuum it out; I’ve put nearly three thousand miles on it in February, so there’s a lot of wrappers and trash and debris in the floorboards, plus dirt tracked in from rest stops and so forth. I want to be better about taking care of the car, if that makes sense? I am doing a great job with it as far as maintenance (the fact that newer cars don’t require as much regular maintenance as the old ones I am used to is an enormous help in that regard) is concerned, even having the tires rotated regularly. The car is dented and dinged up, and perhaps someday I will get those dents and dings repaired, but on the other that does not keep the car from functioning properly and therefore that’s not a priority for me. Maybe someday, but certainly not now.

Ugh, the kitchen/office is such a disaster area. I really need to do something about that…and that is probably the proper and best way to transition over into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow morning.

We Got the Beat

Thursday and my last day in the office this week. Woo-hoo?

I slept really well again last night and feel very rested. Yesterday was a good day; today feels kind of like it might be one, too. I suppose we shall simply have to wait and see how it all plays out, won’t we? But when I got home last night I felt pretty good. I picked up my copy of Cheryl Head’s Time’s Undoing, which I really want to spend some time with this weekend, since I’ve been looking forward to reading it once it was announced to be forthcoming. Cheryl’s a terrific writer and a wonderful person, and it has been a pleasure and joy watching her career take off since we first met all those years ago.

I didn’t get much done last night, nor did I even get to read much either; not sure what happened to last evening once I got home, to be honest. I know I worked on the dishes for awhile, but never finished. Scooter was, as always, feeling needy and screaming for attention, and once I get in the easy chair and he starts sleeping/purring in my lap, I’m a goner. I know I watched a lot of Youtube videos but I honestly can’t remember doing much of anything other than going down Internet wormholes on my iPad. Today I believe is a slow day at the office, which should help me get caught up on things I am behind on there, and of course tomorrow is my work-at-home day. Tomorrow morning I am going to try to replace the dryer fuse–I do remember debating about trying to do this last night and finally deciding not to try, because of the extreme frustration that would result from that not being the thing that is actually wrong with the dryer, plus it’s not going to be terribly easy to begin with; I have to pull the dryer out from where it is snugly place beside the washing machine in a very small laundry room; it has to come all the way out and be turned around so I can access the back of it (I am dreading seeing what it looks like behind and beneath the dryer), which is going to be an irritating pain in the ass.

And of course, there’s always the chance Scooter will go back there and won’t come out. Heavy heaving sigh. But I am looking forward to being in New Orleans this weekend, and I am starting to feel a lot better about everything. It still sneaks up on me now and then–when people offer condolences, it becomes problematic as I tend to choke up when talking about it with people face to face–but when I am on my own, I tend to be able to handle it without breaking down, if that makes sense? It’s when I talk about it with kind people that it overwhelms me; I know they are trying to be a comfort and it’s coming from a very good place…but it’s rough. Everything’s rough, really, and I’m still trying to figure out everything and processing it all. I am definitely not over it yet, acceptance is beginning, but it still sneaks up on me from time to time.

Sorry to be so dull and keep going on about it. It is what it is, after all, and no amount of moping or sadness is going to change anything. I do think I need to spend some time writing about my mom, though; writing always helps, and fictionalizing things is always the best way for me to handle things that happen to me. Writing my essay “I Haven’t Stopped Dancing Yet” and Murder in the Rue Chartres was enormously helpful to my healing process in the years after Hurricane Katrina; even last night as I was thinking about the Title IX issue in my old school district in Kansas (which I am becoming more and more obsessed by) and thought, you could write a book about this, and from the perspective of a queer adult from that school district who goes down a rabbit hole after his mother dies and…

Kind of pulled back a bit from that one as it developed, but it’s not a terrible idea.

And I already have so much else to write on the agenda. I’ve got to get these two manuscripts revised, I need to move on to Chlorine and the other one I have in progress, and of course I wanted to get all those novellas finished this year and I don’t think that is going to happen unless I get out of this malaise and affix my nose to the grindstone again. And there are short stories I need to get written.

Okay, on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow.