Wednesday, November 30, 2016

NaNo out

Despite a few more hours left in the day, it's time to declare NaNo 2016 over and out. But as we're all friends here, I can admit I called time on NaNo quite some time ago.
Now, I had a strong suspicion at the get go that I wasn't going to finish. 2016 being the gift that keeps on giving (rather like an expired jelly of the month club) and all, I wasn't feeling it. This was the first year I did any kind of prep work, basic and quick as it was, and didn't go into the event at the last minute.

I did manage to get some work done, even if I quit counting words part way through the month. I did manage to make progress on something I still want to finish and make a complete work out of. So while I'm loath to admit (or subconsciously relishing and wallowing in) defeat, at least I broke out of months-long creative block (and general blah disposition about life in general - though that's still there). When I don't write for prolonged periods of time, it's like holding my breath. For a ridiculously long time. For no good reason. With no positive outcome in sight.
So to those who finished, congrats! Be proud of the effort you've put into your goal. Take a moment to celebrate.

With the great feasting holiday behind us (Anybody else find the idea of celebrating the occasion of Native Americans saving the starving butts of the Pilgrims in a meal involving unity a little hard to stomach this year because at the moment Native people are being blasted with water cannons as a result of peaceful and understandable protest? Not to mention the countless acts of savagery committed against them, but I digress.) depending on the level of leftovers and house guests you've got at the moment it's time to look ahead.

Ahead can be towards the next level holiday (your choice of many in the coming month) that will besiege us all with gift-giving quandaries, more family time and trying to find the right balance of caffeine, booze, meditation, and anxiety-fueled house cleaning to help us navigate this most festive of seasons.

Ahead can be seeing 2017 fast approaching and realizing that regardless of the shit storm that was 2016 for so very many of us, we live to see the rebirth of fresh promise. Or even just that we made it through the bizarro, comic book level-drama that has been 2016.

Ahead can even be as simple as taking a deep breath and facing tomorrow. Regrouping from today's struggle and giving what you've got to keep on going.


Monday, November 14, 2016

Casserole Countdown

When I was growing up, I distinctly remember being taught over and over (and over some more) the following bit of conversational/interpersonal skill savvy: 
I'm one of those strange people who generally tries to adhere to that. Despite the modern obsession of seemingly everyone with a social media account finding their voice and sharing everything from pictures of what doctors removed from their body (posted by a friend last week) to the obvious what-I-had-for-lunch snapshots (ok, so even I do that from time to time), I have not been compelled to voice much in the way of politics, religion or money. Given my trust issues (coinciding with being judged issues), there are about a handful of people I'd discuss my views with in the world anyway. And if we've ever talked politics in person or via messaging, congratulations - you're one of the poor bastards "lucky" few I feel comfortable enough to discuss such things with. 

And here's the sum total of my feelings about everything going on:
I don't care what the affiliation is. I see hate and propaganda and fear mongering spewing forth from every direction. And I'm just so damn tired. 
But that most epic of comfort food feasting days is almost upon us:
Carbs, carbs, tryptophan, more carbs. And then the pinnacle of them all, pie.
For so many, the holidays involve tense discussions with family or straight up bellowing monologues from whoever is the most belligerent on politics, religion and every poor life choice you might have ever dared to make.

It's also a time of unprecedented casseroles. Potato ones. Vegetable ones. The big boy of them all, or so says the canned soup industry, is the green bean casserole. This was not part of any of my holidays growing up. Like, at all. 17 different kinds of potato dishes, 400 pies, enough stuffing to make a whole farm of turkeys panic, but no green bean casserole. No canisters of fried onions. Our cream of mushroom soup was mixed into a different golden brown casserole. Our green beans were fresh and went into one of our plentiful potato dishes. 

It has to be magical, right?
Santa himself must approve.
But years of a strong ad campaign wore me down. Finally in my young adulthood, while others were binge drinking and/or learning that condoms could have changed the trajectory of their lives, I decided to make it. 

People... people seriously eat this? Like, look forward to it? Or is this just another thing people do in a herd mentality kind of thing? 

Forget politics, religion & money. You really want to start some shit with people, disagree about food. So here's to years of careful menu planning and sticking to personal favorites. May you enjoy whatever casserole is your favorite and have the proper stretchy pants for an extra piece of pie.



Monday, November 7, 2016

Delayed Start



Cut the ribbon, fire the starting gun, jump on in.
Exactly a week after NaNoWriMo officially started, I'm doing my half-assed best to get started. And my-oh-my, is it slow going.
Image result for I'd rather be watching netflix
Seriously behind on The Crown.
It may be pulling out toenails while trying to swim upstream in frozen molasses slow, but it's going. I am, when the planets align and everyone's chakras are in balance, fully capable of churning out several thousand words a day. Which means I am fully capable (in theory) of catching up and then exceeding the 10,000+ words I'm currently behind. In case it isn't obvious, someone within a 300 mile radius of me does NOT have their chakras in order.
Too harsh?
But progress, I suppose, is progress. Today is the first day in all of November that I've been able to do any kind of brainstorming or even focus on crafting (ha!) a scene in my head. And while I may falter on the kind of fabric somebody's cloak is made of (seriously, this is the kind of stumbling block I trip over when my brain is on super-slow-motion creatively) when I know full well and good it doesn't freaking matter by the time I get to editing (ha!) words are sort of starting to fill in on the page. And I'm trying to convince telling myself that it's only a matter of time before I hit a scene (or Lord willing several of them) where my creative engines are off and to the races. The kind of frantic typing where I forget to eat and don't stand up for hours on end. Glorious productivity. 

Here's where I stand with NaNoWriMo: I have less than 21 days to get all 50,000 words in to win. A quick peek at the calendar will tell you that means I have to get done before the end of the month. Why am I starting so late and why do I need to finish early? My parents. 
My mother's mental condition continues to be unsteady. And my dad seems to be unraveling before my eyes from the stress. The two of them together? It's been a little taxing.
The good-ish news? They've gone to visit one of my siblings. My completely unprepared and inexperienced sibling. So I have less than 3 weeks to write 50,000 words, try to piece together some semblance of inner peace and figure out the holidays before they return, on top of the rest of regular every day life stuff. And that's betting that my mom makes it the full expected length of the visit and I don't have to go peel her off the ceiling and go collect them early. 

The house, temporarily down 2 occupants, feels somehow less oppressive. Like I'm not entirely drowning in "Oh dear God, what's going to happen next when she wakes up." I mean, I realize she could flip out on them up there at any moment, but it's not as in my face right now. And my dad flitting around in a combo of anxiety and frustration has other people to do things with. Maybe the extra distractions will help his mindset. Honestly though, as I was driving home yesterday I'll admit I entertained the idea of sage-ing my house. What candle do you burn to drive out bad juju and bring in hope and renewal? Preferably something I can get with 2-day shipping from everyone's favorite online retailer or maybe a quick trip over to Cassadaga




Thursday, November 3, 2016

They say the darnedest things

Over the years I've seen an endless variety of adorable pictures and stories of stuff my niblings have done or said. My closest approximation looks a little something like this:
Image result for shit my dad says

Times three. 

Sometimes it's colorful anecdotes in the life of a Florida native who managed to spawn the man I love. For instance, my husband and a friend were out with my father-in-law earlier this year and stopped to grab lunch. It was my husband's friend's first time meeting the old guy. At the restaurant, my husband's friend grabbed a handful of napkins to bring to the table. My father-in-law looked up, saw the wad of paper and bellowed, "Did you get those for your face or to wipe your ass?" And cackled. That's the least offensive thing I can think of to use for him. 
Image result for I'm sorry you are offended
For my mom, it's more about how far out of reality she is at the moment. And as embarrassing or funny or inappropriate the older men in my life can be, for her it's about figuring out long it's going to take to reel her in. It's a clue as to how elaborate the hallucination is. Is she accusing us of putting snakes in the bed, is the dog looking sad, is the book she started reading giving her messages? All these things are so routine for us and yet probably not the norm in most households. This kind of thing is not exactly what my siblings want to hear about when we exchange texts.
And then there's my dad. Who seems to be spinning out of his orbit at the moment. A lovely combo of aging, deteriorating filter/give-a-damn and stress. Today while I was driving him on an errand, he threw a curve ball. "So, you know how we've talked about pre-planning arrangements and all that?" I've been trying to get my older folks to make some decisions and take care of a few end of life arrangements for years. Not because I enjoy the idea of my parents dying, but because I've been through both no plans and fully planned and the latter is totally the way to go when grieving. 

"Yeah," I offered. This topic hadn't come up in a while. "What do you think about donating our bodies to medical science?"

What do I think? How about what do you think? Because I'm thinking this isn't the topic for when I'm driving.

He was kind of excited with the idea but kept pressing me to give him my thoughts. I wanted his thoughts and eventually I discovered his excitement was from the idea of how inexpensive he thought it would be. 
Image result for I got nothing
Instantly I thought about texting my siblings. Shouldn't they share in some of this?




Tuesday, November 1, 2016

Ready, Set, Give Up

It's day one of that weird, writer's holiday season: National Novel Writing Month. NaNoWriMo for short.

I'm already over it.

Like way, way the fuck over it.
I should go sit in a corner until my mood improves. Because that? That sounds delightful. Writing 50,000 words this month in what is arguably the weirdest year in modern memory makes me want to give someone the finger.
So I bitch. And moan. Get it out of my system. Chances are that's probably my process for this anyway. Vent a disproportional ire about an event I willingly signed up for (for free) and gives me a deadline and a reason to get off my ass and make something happen.

I'd rather be playing Civ V. Or, you know, sitting in that corner alone until I'm in a better mood.
My phone was 1 non-stop notification all day as every single person I know who is participating updated every social media site available. They're excited. I get it. Introverts unite from the safety of your respective home office. Community AND isolation. Honestly, I get it. I do. I'm just not there.

I'm not feeling it this year. I'm hoping the annoyance and resentment of this high holy of writing months will pass. I'm hoping to get caught up in storytelling and forget 2016, just for a little while.

So to other NaNo'ers, don't take my shitty attitude personally. Good luck and happy (or whatever floats your boat) writing.

To the End

When I began this blog 5 years ago, it ended up being a catch-all for whatever slogged through my brain, mostly writing and the difficu...