Monday, November 2, 2009
I am currently 2000+ words into the novel that I am attempting to write for NaNoWriMo. I came across/was reminded of NaBloPoMo while procrastinating when it came to sitting my butt down and writing words, any words onto my blank word document. It's so much easier to make a collage, and search for images and research key concepts online than it is to actually WRITE, isn't it?!
Then, as if this weren't enough, my husband came outside while the kids and I were taking out the garbage and offered to dig up my dahlia tubers for me. In all honesty, I'd considering leaving them and letting them all die, just another casualty of the "I just don't give a fuck" attitude that I've been living under since my mother died. Then up came the first spadeful of dirt and there they were, inciting me, however grudgingly, to act. I've been trying to stop time, wanting to scream at my husband when he got on my case for things like pretty much refusing to water my houseplants, "Don't you see? Don't you see?! I can't bear for everything to go on as if nothing has happened!" I'm fairly sure that I would've regretted the loss of those tubers come March. Creating has always been about channeling or appeasing my "dark side" and so here I am at 1:09am waiting for tubers to dry so that I can store them for the coming year. Today my muse? More of a sneaky mistress, forcing my hand, (and) I'm not sure whether I feel grateful or hateful.