Tag: life

Awake

the Tall Girl # # # #

Woman sitting with her head bowed“I’ve been sleeping a thousand years it seems / Got to open my eyes to everything”
Evanescence, “Bring Me To Life

I spent the past week at a creative writing retreat, one I’ve been to many times. In some ways, it felt like I was spending more time alone; at home, I’ve always got my parents flitting in and out, but somehow, being at Wildacres is different. Even though I was staying in a building that slept 50 other people, when all the doors are closed and everyone is hard at work (or possibly napping), it’s easy to feel isolated.

Of course, then you go to a meal with fifty friends old and new. You’re surrounded by conversation whether you want to be or not. (For the record, I rarely mind, because the conversations tend to be unique and are often pretty fascinating.)

After a few days there, I honestly feel more awake, more present, more alive. I can’t decide precisely why, although I suspect it’s a range of factors: a sense of renewal that comes with a break from news, TV, and internet; the sense of connection with a writing community; even a simple change of scenery, the escape from the ever-present demands of work (a huge disadvantage of working from home — it’s always a few steps away). I feel more confident when I’m there, like I’m a better version of myself.

Unfortunately, the feeling starts to wear off pretty quickly once I get home. Maybe it’s the exhaustion talking, but by mid-afternoon today, I was already starting to feel impossibly cranky and more than a little depressed. I miss my writing people, and I have zero interest in working tomorrow (or possibly ever again). Severe gloom on re-entry is commonly reported by members of our group, but that doesn’t make it any easier to handle. I’m hoping another good night’s sleep will help. If not, I guess I’ll figure out a new strategy tomorrow.

Over and out.

Writing it down

the Tall Girl # #

Recently, I applied to become a contributor at a new site called Medium that lets you publish things — articles, essays, fiction, or whatever. I was accepted, and since then, I’ve been trying to decide what I wanted to write, what I might want to share on Medium rather than here. Tonight, in the shower, I thought of something; the words started flowing in my head, and despite being seriously tired, I muddled through how to make a “collection” on the site and put my words on the glowing screen. It’s probably the most honest work I’ve ever written, so I haven’t hit publish just yet. I sent a preview link to a couple of wonderful ladies and already got a very positive response back from one. So I’m probably going to put my essay out there in a few days. After all, what’s the point in being writer if you don’t write about what really matters now and then?

Further bulletins as events warrant. For now, over & out.

UPDATE: I did publish the piece; you can read it on Medium.

Sickness, lunch, and wrecked plans

the Tall Girl # # # # #

So, I’m sick.

I hate being sick. I always have this fantasy that it will be endless hours of watching movies and eating chocolate, when really it’s just sleeping tons and feeling too lousy to enjoy anything.

You can tell I’m truly sick because when my parents suggested we go out to lunch today, I didn’t grab my coat and purse and run for the door. You see, I love going to lunch. It doesn’t matter where we’re going. We could be going to McDonald’s. I’ll still get excited about it. Going to lunch is pretty much my favorite thing in the whole wide world to do. So if you suggest going out to lunch and I’m not excited, you know I’m really sick.

I’m particularly annoyed about being sick right now for two reasons. One, I’m having a birthday in a few days and the idea of being sick on my birthday is just cruel. And two, I had things that I wanted to do this weekend! I wanted to finish the first draft of the flash fiction piece I started writing Thursday night. And I wanted to play Pandemic, and I wanted to read my book. And I wanted to go the The Loft and use my birthday coupon to get myself a new shirt. And now I’m under the influence of cough syrup and don’t have enough functioning brain cells to write fiction or play Pandemic, and I’m too achy to shop. I can still read, but the cough syrup makes me sleepy, so I tend to lose track of the plot. (Admittedly, the plot of this book isn’t terribly complicated, but still.)

I also think the cough syrup makes me depressed. I watched Doctor Who (Girl in the Fireplace) last night and almost cried at the end. Then again, I suppose that doesn’t necessarily prove anything.

I’m going to wrap this up, since I am going to venture out to lunch after all. Hopefully I won’t cough up a lung along the way. That tends to spoil the appetite.

Happy weekend, folks. Over and out.

Brief thoughts on healing

the Tall Girl # #

This morning, for the first time in years, I got an email from a guy I’ll call my Significant Ex (defined as someone you’ll never forget, or someone who truly messed you up, or possibly both). It wasn’t a long email, and it was more or less necessary, since he was sending me info for a project I’m doing. But he asked how I was, and wished me well, and said that I was missed. I won’t lie: this guy did mess me up a bit way back when, and I’ll admit to some lingering resentment over that fact. So you wouldn’t think I’d be particularly moved by a few simple lines after years of radio silence.

But I was. For whatever reason, I felt genuinely touched by his simple offerings and inquiries. And that wounded bit of me healed just a little.

I guess there are always opportunities for healing broken relationships — a subject I’ve been pondering of late. I discovered new evidence last week that the other party in a damaged friendship had given up on me; and even though I initiated our Parting of the Ways a few years ago, it still made me a little sad to know that that door had closed for good.

Maybe life is just a series of people coming and going, doors opening and closing. But maybe closed doors can reopen, if and when we’re ready for them.