Posted in Randomy Goodness

Retreating myself well

I have the doors, but I haven’t written about the doors, so I’ll write about them for Thursday Doors for next week. I’z all curfubbled (NOT A WORD UNTIL NOW!) today since today began with me, in a half-sleepy stupor, wondering if it was a day I had to go to work. I came to consciousness just enough to mutter Expletive….. it’s only Thursday…. This week has been jammed packed with enough week to have it be over already; alas, there’s one more day to go. To get myself through, I’ve spent this afternoon looking forward, and I came up with a new thing I’m gonna do, just for me.

Continue reading “Retreating myself well”

Posted in Randomy Goodness

Confirmed: Mojo’s Return

Artist interpretation of my Muse.

Muse is fickle. (Yours, too? How ’bout that!) Sometimes, she visits for long stretches then disappears. When she does, I’m not sure when she’ll return. I know she’ll be back. She always comes back. She just likes to wander, and, like today’s millennials, doesn’t RSVP if invited and sometimes still doesn’t show up if she says she’s going to stop by (p.s. GET OFF MY LAWN!).

Muse’s visits have been consistent lately, but I wasn’t sure how long she’d stay this time ’round. Then she sent a sign during a recent chat about anxiety with the same person who suggested I might be right for roller derby. Continue reading “Confirmed: Mojo’s Return”

Posted in Randomy Goodness, Writing

Dear Muse: It’s a Date

Getting out of the shower last night, I had another one of my drip and runs. The ideas were coming so fast, I couldn’t dry off completely before running to my room to grab a pen and paper. I don’t bother signing in or turning on the computer — don’t want to get electrocuted after all.

I managed to keep the towel around me and make only a small puddle on the floor as I hurriedly scribbled the thoughts that were dripping from my brain. The stories in me that are begging to be written were talking so fast, I couldn’t keep up. They were telling me their tales at the same time, like a crowd before a live performance starts — all murmur without being able to really make out the words. But the overarching theme was clear: “Write me! No, write me!”

I scribbled. And then I whined: I know. I know! I want to spend time with you, too. But the life. The adult things. You all know how much time they can take. Work. My life for weeks now, nothing but work. It’s not bad in some respects.

But in some ways it is:

not knowing what day it is

having my back ache from leaning over technical doohickeys all day

not having time to actually do something worth blogging about

missed photo opportunities

being too tired to read the stack of books after reading words on various screens all day

having little energy to work on my own writing, which apparently is getting antsy

So I’m backdating this post (it’s a day late) and I’m working into the night, even though my eyes are struggling to see through the brightness and my fingers are more often hitting the wrong keys. I’m determined to get everything done and get ahead a little so I can really take off this weekend.

I hope I don’t get there and then wonder what I’m supposed to do with myself. Have you ever had the kind of momentum and busyness that keeps you so busy you forget what you used to do before?

Thankfully, I have my Muses whispering — read yelling — in my ears. Of course, they wait until I’m mid-shower and decide to come out at break-neck speed. With my schedule lately, though, I’ve left them little choice.

I just hope when I sit down to spend time with them, they still want to hang out with me. Of course, if they don’t, there’s a stack of books, my camera collecting dust, my car wanting to see sights other than the road to and from the places I’m required to be.

Only 48 hours. It’s a marathon, but I can make it. I see the finish line! More importantly, I see my stories, waiting and wanting to be told. I’m almost there! Wait for me.