Life in progress

Tag Archives: life


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Missing the Magical Switch

Greater, more successful writers than myself (not a stretch) state that in order to be a writer one must dedicate one’s effort into writing: a writer must write. Here lies my conundrum.

I have no qualms over calling myself a writer. It’s what I do constantly – if I’m not physically typing on a keyboard or writing little notes, I’m composing something in my head with hopes that I’ll remember it.

But being a single mom, 80% responsible for two kids (meaning that I get to sleep 15% of the time and the other 5% is when their dad takes care of them) and having to be always within calling distance of my own mother, I don’t have time to write. What might take me three months more of full-time editing on my novel to render it publishable is, at the rate I’m going, bound to take me three years. Frustrated doesn’t begin to describe it.

I imagine there is, somewhere in the universe, a switch that can be flicked which could cause me to be able to stop merely calling myself a writer and become one. I realize that I cannot expect to ever take on a full-time job; my life is with my children, and taking care of them is apparently my job and mine alone. Would I want it any other way? Absolutely not.

Yet writing is also my life. I don’t live for my children – anyone who says they do, in my opinion, is in for a huge let-down when their kids leave home for good. I live for myself and I am a writer. I have a story that I feel needs to be told, of a world where I hope one day people will be able to escape, as I have. It’s inside me, it’s on my screen and it’s on paper, and all it wants is to be polished to a bright, shiny tale that many will love.

If only the magical switch to make it all come true wasn’t so far out of my reach.


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The Scorecard on my Life for the Past Week

Snow – 1, BBQ – 0

Family members alive – 5, Novels edited – 0

Hairs left attached to my scalp – 100,000, Hairs in my shower drain – 99,999

Hours of sleep – 35, Brain cells remaining – 2

Icicles – 100, Buckets full of water inside the house from ice melting on the roof 20

Bottles of wine consumed – 3, Contentedness quotient – 3

Blog posts conceptualized – 21, Blog posts posted – 7

Hours worked – 133, Earnings – 0

Family members alive – 5, Laughs – countless

In all I’d say I’m doing okay.


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Expectations

How many times can I be hit over the head by something obvious before it sinks in? One might hope being knocked out once would be enough. Not so much for some.

I try to live by the philosophy that to expect nothing means never being disappointed. Plans go awry, the weather won’t co-operate, machinery breaks down – the list is just about endless. In fact I’ve come to the conclusion that the only thing I can reasonably expect is that the sun will come up every morning. Let’s face it – if the sun doesn’t live up to its promise, none of this will likely matter anyway.

But it’s in the area of promises where I consistently fail: this is what I need to stop banging my head against. When someone says they’ll do something and then, for whatever reason, backs out (in my case it’s usually my ex with his promise to take the kids until work gets in the way) the results on the psyche and the blood pressure can be devastating.

I have made some progress, however, with my philosophy. I’ve learned not to expect anything of anyone unless they make a promise. While it may seem sad on the surface, if you really think about it, it’s obvious. To expect something of someone just because it’s what you would do is silly. We’re all different. Just because I would drive a friend to the airport simply because they are my friend and they are in need, doesn’t necessarily mean they would do the same for me. So if I count on it happening and end up missing my plane, do I blame them? No. I blame myself.

This thread of thought came up because twice now, in my life, I’ve been in a position where two of my friends were having a fight. I had no argument with either of them, so I decided to stay out of it both times. In both cases, however, one friend decided that I should have stuck up for them. It’s what they would have done. It’s what a friend would do, they both said. In my view however, if someone picks a fight, they’d better know what they’re getting into and know they can handle it themselves before they begin. It’s not my fault that they had the fight – I had nothing to do with it. If I get into the middle of someone else’s fistfight chances are I’ll be the one who’s hurt – why should an argument be any different? So I sat back, let the dust settle, and then in both cases one of the parties decided that if I was friends with the enemy I couldn’t be friends with them. They demanded I be on their side, or I couldn’t be their friend any more. Guess which friend I chose to stick with? Yes, in both cases it was the one who expected nothing from me but their continued friendship.

Just because I never expect anything of anyone, doesn’t mean that everyone around me is beyond hope. If I simply hope that they will do things for me, hope that they will be honest with me and respect me, then when they do I can be pleasantly surprised and if they don’t, well, I wasn’t hanging my own choices and responsibilities on them anyway.

Now all I have to do is learn to hope that my ex will live up to his end of the bargain and take the kids every other weekend, instead of expecting it. I have to stop hitting myself over the head.

I’m still learning.


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Stream of Consciousness Saturday Fe8/14

Don’t you hate it when you see someone who you think you recognize but you’re not sure?

There are two scenarios that I can think of at the moment: One; you can’t place the person at all, and two; you’re not sure if it’s the person you think it is or if it’s some stranger.

For instance, I’m sitting in the food court of the local mall, watching a guy who I can see in profile as he talks to a little girl beside him, and I could swear it’s Tyler Stewart, drummer for the band, the Bare Naked Ladies. So, do I go over and say hi to him? It wouldn’t be too weird – I went to high school with him. We were in the same music program together. He has much less hair now… But I’m thinking, if it was him, wouldn’t there be mobs of people hanging around him?

Maybe not.

What do you do when this happens? Do you avoid eye contact and hope they don’t notice you? Do you take a chance?

I once had a woman walk up to me in a shopping mall, much like the one I’m in, and she was absolutely positive I was someone else. She called me “Nicky,” asked me how I’d been doing, and I think she was going to hug me until I managed to get a word in edgewise and tell her she had the wrong person. Wow, was she embarrassed.

Since then, (and even before, but more so since then) I’m very careful about who I approach. Actually, I usually run in the other direction, which is what I’ll do today I think. After all, if I want Tyler’s autograph, I can probably wait ’til the next high school reunion.


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The Ever-Changing Scenery

One thing I can say for Canada is it never gets boring.

This picture was taken May 28th, 2013:

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and this one, of the exact same spot was taken this morning February 6th, 2014:

sssnow

If you look closely, you’ll see the railings on my next door neighbour’s front steps, on the left of both pictures.

I can’t stress enough how much I’m looking forward to May.


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Be Nice to Your Kids

In light of recent events, most of which include having my mother live with me for more than a week while she waits for her room in the retirement home to be ready, I’ve been thinking about the saying: “Be nice to your kids – they may be looking after you one day.” And the conclusion I’ve come to is, depending on your nature, chances are it’s not going to matter whether or not they were nice to you. You’ll probably do it anyway.

I moved out of my mother’s home at the tender age of sixteen because I couldn’t stand living with her anymore. We’ve never been what you could call friends – she’s of the old school way of thinking that she’s not my friend, she’s my mother. She said so many times when I was a kid. In more recent times, when she has come to stay with me and the kids it’s been hell – she can’t communicate with Alex and he takes advantage of the fact that she can’t effectively explain to him why he shouldn’t do the annoying things he does: he laughs at her when she’s angry. I, usually, end up breaking up the fight as I might between two siblings.

And yet despite all this, I find myself calm now. I have more patience than I’ve ever had. She’s going through a transition in her life that is probably irreversible – going from living alone for the past 30 years, on and off, to going into a place that is scary in that it’s an unknown entity.

It’s funny the things I’ve found myself being able to handle when put to the test. Whether or not my mother and I have ever been able to get along, let alone live together, is put aside – it’s become irrelevant. The more difficult and challenging things get, the more I’m able to cope with. I just take it one step at a time.

I would wish what I’m going through right now on anyone – and yet I wouldn’t. Yes, it’s hard. But it’s teaching me something – that whatever I may have to deal with, my nature will allow me to deal.

Still, it doesn’t hurt to be nice to your kids. And while you’re at it, help them to discover their true nature.


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A Good Job to Have on a Bad Day

Most of us have jobs. Some of us have careers. We all have bad days. You know bad days, right? The sort where you stub your toes on anything available that doesn’t move; your hair won’t do what you want it to; you put your shirt on inside out and don’t realize it until you hear the guy in the next cubicle who you hate with a passion, sniggering… One of those days.

I was cruising around Facebook, wondering what in the world I could write about today, and I came across a picture which has no relevance to this post other than that it inspired me to think: would I want to go to the dentist when he’s having a bad day? The answer, still in my head, was a resounding NO. If you’re wondering, yes, it did resound, and yes, just imagining the idea of a sadistic dentist hurt me in ways that my imagination should not be allowed to hurt me.

Then I pondered other professionals with whom I would not want to deal on their baddest days: a mechanic, a chef, a radiologist whose job was to perform a breast x-ray, a journalist doing an interview… the list goes on.

All this led me to wonder if there’s a good job to be doing on a bad day. I suppose if the job is solitary, there’s only oneself to harm. But even as a writer – a job that can’t get any more solitary – I abuse the hell out of my characters.

So, what do you think? Is there a professional you would feel safe with if they’re having a bad day? Can you think of anyone worse than a dentist?

Comment away, lovely people!


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Internetless for a Day

I’ll be off in a couple of hours to take my mother home and spend the weekend there with her. She doesn’t have internet, so my status will be set to “offline” for the weekend. If there’s time I’ll write a post to schedule. If not, I’ll see you all Sunday night.

Take care everyone!

Oh, and here’s a pretty picture of my deck from two days ago. The two feet of snow looked like foam – it certainly kept it’s own shape!

CAM00191


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Thank you to all!

I didn’t want to go to bed tonight without saying at least a broad thank you for all the congratulations on my blogaversary, and to all those who visited my fiction site and read the first installment of my story. I’ll be back tomorrow to say thank you in person… yes, I will be knocking at your door. 😉

I’ve been away from the computer today because I was busy retrieving my mother from hospital after a five day stay with pneumonia. Trust me, pneumonia is not a nice thing to stay with. After that, I had to drag 124 newspapers through the snowbanks around my neighbourhood to get them delivered. The good news is (apart from my mum being well enough to come home) I got a picture of the same old house I posted a photo of last week, but at night.

Enjoy!

nighth

Thanks again!


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JusJoJan 29 – Shit Happens

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When I came across this statement (above) on Facebook it made me think. And then it made me think some more.

My first reaction was to recognize that I say this all the time: Everything happens for a reason. And while I do believe somewhere deep inside that it does, I believe even more the two word statement, everything happens. The other saying I often use is, Shit happens and there’s nothing anybody can do about it, which is probably the more accurate of the two. I don’t say it often to anyone but myself however, since it’s not very consoling.

Saying everything happens for a reason is a way to make me feel like I’m in control of a situation I have no control over. By considering what happened, whatever it is, and going through everything that happened as a result can be comforting, especially if the results were in some way positive. And let’s face it – you can always find something positive in something awful if you look hard enough. While it may not make up for the bad thing that happened, it’s better than nothing.

I have to realize, in the end, that there are things that are beyond my control. Whether I look for the good in them or not, they happen. Am I lying to someone when I console them with the statement above? I don’t think so, not if I can help them to find a glimmer where there would otherwise be a lack of hope.

Whether or not everything happens for a reason, you can decide for yourself. But to me it seems that simply saying “Everything happens,” is freeing.  It takes the burden away of trying to control that which is out of my hands.

I’ll still look for silver linings, and I probably still won’t be telling people that shit happens and there’s nothing they can do about it. But I’ll be thinking it, now more than ever.

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