Bookworm

I Can’t Write Now

I can’t write now…the rent is due. I can’t write now…the bills are due and I can’t pay them all. I can’t write now…because nobody cares. I can’t write now…because my life sucks.

I found a way to pay the rent. I can’t write now…my ideas aren’t good enough. I juggled the bills and I will survive. I can’t write now…my thoughts are scattered like leaves in the wind. I reached out and enjoyed human contact. I remembered to breathe. I went back to my isolation. I make a nice espresso…I put on my favorite music and I sit down to write. I write what I feel. Sometimes I write tears, sometimes I write laughter, and sometimes I write dreams. Then I run again…I can’t write now.

I have a rich fantasy life…literally. The kind way to put it, no fuck kind, I live in a dump. The pipes leak, it has holes in the floor, the electrical scares the shit out of me…I don’t want to have a trailer fire, these things burn like a roman candle. The house I live in when I lust after a home on the other hand is a comfortable place to live. I sleep in a comfortable bed instead of on the couch. I can take a hot shower and fix a nice espresso. It is a very comfortable place to be so I window shop…I look at houses. I don’t actually go in the ones for sale right now but I drool over the glossy real estate magazines. I watch the virtual tours and I think about how wonderful it would be to make a small home with a fenced yard my haven. It makes me smile and somehow it keeps me going…I’m going to get to enjoy a place of my own someday.

I don’t own a car, I’m in a rural area without public transportation. I’m going to have a hybrid car one day…I’ve already picked it out. It is this delicious blue color called Seaside Pearl…with gray interior. I won’t be stranded forever…I’ll even be able to go see my kids, most of whom live in a nearby state. I’ve thought about how nice that will be.

My computer has been dying at the most inauspicious times the past few days. I’ve window shopped for a new one. It’s time…this time I’m getting an iMac. I’ve wandered over Ebay…I’ve looked in the Apple store on-line. I’ve researched the programs I want and I have unashamedly lusted. My Shih Tzu should be having a litter of pups in the next couple of weeks. Then eight weeks after that, good lord willing and the creek don’t rise…I’m getting a Mac! I’m so close to one of my fantasies becoming reality…I can taste it. I can feel it, and it feels good.

This has been a busy time and yet I’ve set a new personal record…I read six books in two days!  Sometimes I think I missed my calling in life.  I should be working for one of the big publishing houses as an editor.  I’m not though and that’s okay.  I’m working for myself.  And I have a good boss!  I think I drive myself though and that’s okay, too.  So many books, and so little time, what’s a woman to do?

One Short Sentence

Melody Adams

“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”
—  Confucius

To rephrase this wonderful saying…the journey of a thousand pages, or a thousand stories, or a thousand poems begins with a single word. 

It doesn’t matter if our writing begins, “Once upon a time,” or “It was a dark and stormy night.”  I read somewhere that I am is the shortest sentence in the English language.  But what a powerful sentence it is.  Try it on for size and see if you feel the power I’m talking about.

I am a writer.

I am an artist.

I am…

“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, word, stroke of color.

I AM.

I’ve been thinking a lot about gratitude lately.  Reaching down inside my soul and trying to teach myself ways to be grateful, for instance…I hate the place where I’m living, it’s too expensive and it has huge holes in the floor that let the winter cold come in which means the utilities are eating me alive.  Be grateful…be grateful…I love that it has a fenced in yard.  I love that my doggies can go out in safety without having to be tied up.  I Love that it has a fenced in yard.

I don’t know whether to cry, sing, or take a nap. My roommate is packed up and in the process of moving out. This has been one of the most stressful months I’ve had in a long time. My roommate is 22 years old. She has a 2 year old son and is seven months pregnant with her second child. I came to hate the 2 year old through no fault of his own. You see I blame the people in his life for the bad behavior problems he’s having. He’s 2 years old and his answer to everything is to flip the bird and call who ever he’s talking to a bitch. He’s 2 years old! He wasn’t born with these skills. I tried telling his mother that there is a better way but she doesn’t want a better way. This makes me sad but there is nothing I can do about it. Since I raised five myself I have a box full of children’s movies (Disney movies) one day the 2 year old woke up crying it was obvious to me the little guy didn’t feel good. I offered to let his mother put on one or more of my movies for him but she didn’t want to watch them so instead she put on a loud, graphically violent, adult movie for him, then wondered why her was hitting, kicking, and biting her. All I could do was shake my head. The part that really cheeses me is that she’s expecting another one…she’s going to create two of them. Now she’s moving out because I’m a bitch. So be it.

I ended up paying all the utilities that were suppose to be split. I ended up paying the full amount of rent that was suppose to be split. I ended up cleaning up after them. I ended up providing the household supplies. I was in no mood to foster them since she was not willing to cooperate. Okay, so I’m the bitch…it beats being on trial for murdering them. That is where I was headed if she didn’t take her son and get the hell away from me. I’m not a bad person, really. If she had been willing to help her child emotionally, I would have gladly helped. I was willing to read to him but I was not going to sit still for him hitting and cursing at me when I did. I was more than happy to let him enjoy my movies…I would have watched them with him but I wasn’t willing to have him destroy them. I offered she refused end of story.

I’m going through my things as I’m moving and I ran across an old journal. I have a tendency to stick odd pieces of paper and keepsakes in them. In this one I found something long forgotten, that once again took my breath away. I found this poem written by my son.

Mother

The sound of your voice,

The light of your smile,

These are the things,

That make life worthwhile.

The touch of your hand,

The warmth of your cheer,

These are the treasures

I count most dear.

The soul of your goodness,

The heart of your worth,

I wouldn’t give these

For half of the earth.

I also found a news paper article dated March 21, 1999. The headline reads:

Twenty students to attend writing festival.

The Klamath County School District will send 20 students to the 15th annual state writing festival, a day-long writing conference, at Portland State University in Portland on May 1.

Students with outstanding writing ability in grades 1-12 from throughout Oregon will attend.

My son was one of the twenty students invited to attend the writing conference. Here a mere seven years later, thousands of students from around the world can participate in writing conferences thanks to the internet and the advent of blogging.

The Cosmic Egg and the Murderous Self are two sides of the same coin. It is a coin that I flip daily. Heads, the Cosmic Egg, and my day is filled with my dreams of wondrous possibilities and creative freedom. Tails, the Murderous Self, and my day is full of self doubt and longing. What I discovered, however, is that I control and land of the coin most days. And I always control the attitude I choose to face the day with. For instance I’ve been moving which is something I enjoy as much as I would enjoy having to chew my own arm off. It has to be done, I’m not wealthy enough to pay someone else to do the work for me and I’m so tired at the end of my day. I would have to pay someone to chew for me if I had the energy left to cook. Of course the voice in my head that speaks for the murderous self is loudest.

“What made you think you ever had what it took to follow the creative path?” It whispers.

My tired body answers.

“I have to. If this is all there is to life…this drudgery and pain, I don’t want it. Life isn’t worth living for me without the hope that my creative nee authentic self gives to me.”

“But, I am your authentic self.”

“No, you are my should be. You are the voice of other’s expectations and judgments of worthiness.”

I am worthy no matter what my circumstance. I am worthy no matter what my faults. I am worthy just because I’m me and I have a right to be who I am.

Today has been a revelation for me. I use to think I was a smart person. I always made good grades in school. I was always one of those students who picked up what ever was being taught the first time around and would read while the teacher was explaining it for the umpteenth time for the ones who were struggling. Now I know what it’s like to struggle to learn something. At first I was beginning to believe I was just stupid…sigh. It has taken me seven months to begin to feel comfortable with my digital camera (note I said beginning). I was starting to give myself a really tough time about my own learning curve when it came to technology, then it dawned on me why my learning curve was so different. In school I had teachers showing me every step of the way what I needed to know and now more often than not I’m on my own with nothing but trial and error to do the teaching. How funny is that? Einstein had trouble in school and was a genius when it came to trial and error. I did well in school and get so frustrated I want to do crazy irrational things when I have to learn by trial and error. I guess it wouldn’t be so bad if I was trying to learn the technology just for fun but alas, I need to make some money from all this…so I have no choice but to keep plugging away at it. Any of you techno smarties out there who don’t mind giving a hand to a very slow learner let me know and I will worship at your fountain of knowledge.

I will be kind of quiet for a couple of weeks. Tomorrow I start moving into a new place. Wow, What a summer this has been for all of us. I started the summer facing homelessness then it looked for a time as if I was going to be able to trade for a small travel trailer to live in. That didn’t work out and just as I was starting to sweat it all again the hand of fate took the reins and I found a room-mate situation. The way that the universe takes over still amazes me sometimes. I would ask that everyone keep good thoughts about the service men and women stationed in Korea right now (as many of you know, my son is one of them). What’s his name in North Korea is starting to act up and play with nuclear toys. I would hate to have to swim over there and kick his ass personally if anything happens to my son! Hang in there Heather we all love you and are sending wave after wave of good thoughts and hugs!! I’ll check in and read from time to time during my move. Looking forward to being settled again and back to posting. Love you guys! Melody