Saturday, March 8, 2014

Saturday Night

Aye Aye Aye.

Writers are advised to sit and attempt a writing assignment every day, in order to keep ourselves sharp. Even in my actual creative writing courses in college, this was true.  And it is true.

Lately I have been into seriously damaging the rules of grammar to stretch myself into understanding colloquialisms.. I grew up in a house in which bad grammar was sacrilege. I never used ain't and I was corrected from the local slang of saying "Crick" instead of creek. I, myself, was a language snob to some degree and I think I thought myself above others who used slang and spoke with the local Philly accent. This didn't do much to make me a friend of my peers. On the one hand, I was terrified of my neighbors, but on the other hand I secretly knew I was smarter than they because they spoke like ignoramuses and I didn't. Maybe in the future that will help explain why I suffered so much bullying in school, aside from the fact that I was intensely introverted.
Despite my ex father-in-law's suggestion to write about people, because an author can do so many things to his enemies in a book, legally, that he can't get away with in real life, I never seriously considered it until now.

Thursday, March 6, 2014

The Writing Problem

Lately, I haven't been writing often enough.
And, when I say "Lately," what I really mean is I haven't been writing enough for the last eight years...an understatement.
There are so many things I have done in those eight years, and yet even that was not enough to really satisfy myself with my life. I don't have a real feeling of contentment from that time. I feel that I need to do more in the next eight years to make up for what I haven't done in the last eight years.
Except, the truth is I am putting a dollar sign value on accomplishments that can't be measured from the last eight years. For instance, I "just" recovered from PTSD in the last eight years. Not completely, I don't feel totally whole. And, if I were really completely recovered I'd have a job, right? I wouldn't still be slightly agoraphobic and terrified of working outside my home. But, overall, recovering from PTSD without help of medicinal marijuana or a professional psychologist is a pretty big accomplishment. And, even though I am still unable to pay all my bills, at least I don't go lie in bed and cry hysterically for a week when one shows up in the mailbox. I still don't open them. That takes a few glasses of wine, bill opening; and I am very careful about how much I drink because I can see that I would have to become an alcoholic to be a real regular bill opener. So, I guess I am just a bill peeker and a wine sipper.

Other accomplishments in the last eight years? I have two new daughters.  Two new, beautiful daughters who make every day worth living and waking up for just to take care of them. Truthfully, just taking care of them and doing nothing else but makes life worth living and makes me content.

I guess that's it for now, since the baby wants to nurse and I can't write and nurse simultaneously.