Bench at the center of the labyrinth
Monday, September 6, 2010
Waning Moon (Day before dark moon)
Sunny and pleasant
Pretty good weekend. Not much writing done on Saturday, but a great first session on Sunday morning — more than made up for it. And a decent session Monday morning.
I travelled to Narnia and back in my closet on Saturday. It wasn’t anywhere as scary as I feared. Everything’s packed and ready to be loaded when the time comes. I have three more bags of clothes for donation. I have some more stuff to take to storage.
I know, why take it to storage when it’ll just be moved anyway? Because I need the room so I can pack what’s left. This is a very small space, and i need room to both pack and continue living.
I used one of the mustards I bought at Sturbridge Village in the chicken recipe I cooked Saturday night. Very good. Next time I’m there, I’ll get more. And I’m still eating the fudge!
I’ve been woken up every day this holiday weekend at 5:30 AM by construction noise, because someone paid off the City to look the other way and not enforce the City Code. Unacceptable.
It was so beautiful on Saturday afternoon that we went out. First, to Bruce Museum Park to walk around the sculptures. I also picked up some acorns, which are now in the little green pottery dish I made. We took a wrong turn and got lost in an exclusive section of a nearby town. I wondered, as we drove through it, why there was such a bad vibe everywhere — talk about one’s skin literally crawling, in spite of beautifully manicured exteriors. And then I saw the sign and it all made sense: It’s an exclusive enclave populated by those who helped create the current depression — the heavy karma hanging over the place is ominous because they’re about to get their asses kicked. They have their own security — they don’t want any poor people in the enclave unless they’re maids or gardeners. One of the most awful murders in the area took place on the grounds when I was just a kid. Figures – -they have their own security to keep out people who aren’t as rich, so they go around murdering each other instead.
So how did I get past security? I’m white, my car may be small but it’s shiny, and I’m decently put together. They didn’t even question me. It would almost have been better to get stopped and turn around rather than being lost in there for nearly 40 minutes!
I was glad to get out! Very oppressive atmosphere, in spite of all the ornate trimmings.
We then drove to Wainwright House, here in our town, to get rid of the bad vibes (I don’t want to be infected with that kind of evil and bad karma) by walking the labyrinth and looking out over the water. They were preparing for a sunset wedding — we offered to leave, but they said if we just walked around the side of the property, to go ahead and enjoy. We were only there for about twenty minutes, but it was very revitalizing.
Elsa was better on Saturday morning, then worse again Saturday night. I spent a long time on Saturday night just cuddling her and trying to make her feel better. She perked up on Sunday morning a bit.
One of the sad drawbacks of fighting with the landlords for the past four years is that it’s injured my capacity for joy. Every time I see a glimmer and start to feel good again, I start wondering when the other shoe will drop. I’ve never been that kind of person, and I don’t want to live my life like that. I wasn’t a fan of this town growing up, I left, I came back to take care of family issues, and hoped it had matured and grown as I had. For awhile, when we had a City Council that actually gave a damn about its citizens, it seemed to be the case. But this new, corrupt, greedy, cowardly Republican City Council (I think these individuals would be cowardly or corrupt no matter with what party they were affiliated) with one thumb up its ass and the other hand extended waiting for a payout epitomizes everything I disliked about the town growing up and some of the reasons I left in the first place. It’s a shame, because there’s some real beauty in the town, and it’s being destroyed by the poison of particular, greedy, selfish citizens.
Elsa had an adventure on Sunday morning. The Reiki Master said the best way to help her heal was to get her away from the building on any nice day and take her outside in the grass and sunshine. I’ve been trying to find a park that didn’t charge. I found a small park in the next town that seems to fit the bill, so we packed up Elsa and took her to the park. There was an event going on in another section that involved singing, and really, I wished I had a bucket in my trunk to offer them so they could carry a tune. But other than that, it was lovely and breezy and fine. Elsa’s never had her paws on grass before — she wasn’t too sure about it. But she batted at a butterfly, and recognized the pine cones (I have bowls of them in the house) and tried to slip away and investigate some wildlife in a bush (she did not succeed). She also got to sniff and play with pine branches and sharpen her claws on an oak tree. She was lively and perky the whole time, and had a lot to say, but wasn’t stressed out or scared. And she was much better the rest of the day, and even ate better. It really made a positive difference. Plus, she could brag to the twins.
Cleaned, purged, and packed another closet. One more closet today — the front hall closet, nicknamed “The Scary Monster Closet” and all the closets are packed and ready to load when the time comes. Not too shabby!
Much as I appreciate the understanding of all who try to make me feel better about my decreased productivity, I don’t write on the side, THIS IS HOW I MAKE MY LIVING. No money comes in if I’m not on top of things. The bills don’t pay themselves. I don’t know where people think I get the money for expenses if I don’t stay productive. There’s no Money Tree on the fire escape and no Hundred-Dollar Bill Fairy leaves anything under my pillow. I don’t have the luxury of “life getting in the way.” Bills don’t get paid, I can’t pay rent — much less put down a deposit and hire movers, I can’t eat, I can’t take care of the family. There is no spouse or partner’s income. I don’t have a trust fund, or I’d have gotten out of this hellhole a long time ago. It’s all on me. I have to take care of an elderly parent, an old sick cat, two little cats, and myself. And help out with the family up in Maine whenever possible, shouldering my share. If I want this move to succeed, I can’t let anything slide on the writing front. And, before it became an issue that the move had to happen right now, I managed to book more work for the next four months than I’ve had in the past eight. And NONE of it can fall by the way side. NONE. None of it is stuff that can be scheduled for any other time. It’s date-specific and location-specific. I don’t get to take a week or six to settle in — not during the packing, not during the move, nothing. I don’t get to be offline for more than 24 hours. I’ll be in coffee shops all up and down New England with my laptop as the weeks move forward (at least until I get internet set up at the new place), stopping along the highway to meet deadlines on my way back and forth with carloads of stuff. I need the money, I need the credits, I need the business building, I’m under contracts that can’t be broken. So I am just going to have to fucking deal. AND pack. AND move. AND fight with the landlords., who are going to get really nasty (yeah, up to now, this was them being their version of cordial). And do all the other daily things that have to happen in order to keep the home running. That’s just the way it is. I’ll try not to whine too much about it!
When I move and have cleared off my deadlines — I’m taking off two weeks to sleep! The work is booked steadily until December 5, and then all I have to worry about is finishing the edits on ASSUMPTION OF RIGHT, which are due on January 1. I’m not booking anything else in the month of December (I’ll probably eat my words, but that’s the plan right now). And, of course, the move has to happen right around all of that, too!
And it gets crazy again in January, work-wise, thank goodness!
I have to be organized and focused. Once I can set some definite dates and schedules and lists, great. Until then, I’m doing what I can to prep, because the less last- minute scrambling I have to do, the less stress there will be. When I left Manhattan, I had only 10 days to pack up 13 years of my life, which I did with help from my friends, and that was great. This time, I’m hiring movers, which is a whole different dynamic with its own set of problems. But at least I do all my own packing. And I’m a damned good packer.
Speaking of organized and focused, I swear I cleaned my desk this weekend, and yet again it looks like a Staples truck threw up on it. I’d blame the cats, but most of this stuff is too big for them to haul around. The Paperwork Gnomes are at it again!
And I’m nearly out of boxes. . .
Because, really, what other choice is there?
It’s Labor Day. I’m going to go labor!
First Willowspring Grove novel (first draft, handwritten): 42,750 words out of est. 100,000 (42.75%)