If I read a book that detailed the things that have been done to my family, I would throw it in the trash and call it whining tripe. I can understand where cliches come from now, and our current favorite: No good deed goes unpunished.
Too much detail, and I don't know that I want the story out in the ether anyway. But at what point do you just throw up your hands and go underground? You follow all the rules, you do exactly what is asked of you, you do more than that just for the extra credit and they screw you anyway. How easy is it to fall off the grid? Home school your kids, build a windmill, tap a natural gas well, build a solar panel? Grow a garden, milk a cow, raise some chickens? Disappear?
Feeling disgusted, tired, overwhelmed, and ready for the funny farm today.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Writing
I am a frustrated writer. I started a novel 4 or 5 years ago, and haven't written anything in 2-3 years. It's good. I reread it occasionally and I really like it. I know what I want to happen, I have my story, but it just sits. I don't know what to do.
If I could just break through and write the rest of the story, perhaps I could sell the book and I wouldn't have to worry any more about a job. Wouldn't that be grrreeeeat?
Sometimes I know exactly what I'm going to write, and I get all ready, go to the computer, boot it up, sign on, call up the files, then I read what I've written, save everything, shut it down, and go back to the TV.
Sucks.
I'd love to have a writing mentor, or a writer's group or something to help.
Speaking of mentors, my other kitty just climbed up on my shoulder. My chair back is just big enough for her to lie across it and put her head on my shoulder so she can watch what I'm doing. Her weight is comforting, but she is tempted by the screen movement, and her little paws reach out in my peripheral vision. It's cute. I love her.
If I could just break through and write the rest of the story, perhaps I could sell the book and I wouldn't have to worry any more about a job. Wouldn't that be grrreeeeat?
Sometimes I know exactly what I'm going to write, and I get all ready, go to the computer, boot it up, sign on, call up the files, then I read what I've written, save everything, shut it down, and go back to the TV.
Sucks.
I'd love to have a writing mentor, or a writer's group or something to help.
Speaking of mentors, my other kitty just climbed up on my shoulder. My chair back is just big enough for her to lie across it and put her head on my shoulder so she can watch what I'm doing. Her weight is comforting, but she is tempted by the screen movement, and her little paws reach out in my peripheral vision. It's cute. I love her.
December Job Hunting
In any economy December is a bad time to look for a job. In this economy, forget it. Thankfully I'm not prone to panic attacks.
I have a subfile on my favorites list for job search websites, and it has about 30 places that I check at least 4 times a week, and any time I sit down at the computer I look at about 10 of them. I'm sure that some day I'm going to click on one of them, and it will say:
VIVIAN!!!!! Where have you been? We want YOU!!!!!!!
So far, that hasn't worked.
But my computer is near my woodburner, so my feet stay warm, and I can hear the TV in the background, and I keep the cigarettes and iced tea at hand. Occasionally my cat chirps and touches her paw to my leg to see if I'm done yet (she can't meow, she chirps). If I'm still busy I smile at her, so she lies down in front of the woodstove and returns to her little cat dreams.
It's a good life. As long as the unemployment doesn't run out.
I have a subfile on my favorites list for job search websites, and it has about 30 places that I check at least 4 times a week, and any time I sit down at the computer I look at about 10 of them. I'm sure that some day I'm going to click on one of them, and it will say:
VIVIAN!!!!! Where have you been? We want YOU!!!!!!!
So far, that hasn't worked.
But my computer is near my woodburner, so my feet stay warm, and I can hear the TV in the background, and I keep the cigarettes and iced tea at hand. Occasionally my cat chirps and touches her paw to my leg to see if I'm done yet (she can't meow, she chirps). If I'm still busy I smile at her, so she lies down in front of the woodstove and returns to her little cat dreams.
It's a good life. As long as the unemployment doesn't run out.
Friday, November 28, 2008
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