The Muse

It seems the muse has struck many tonight: chordam7 makes humorous the taste of royalty, ykantchristype shares a secret that weaves a rich story, and cmpriest expounds upon the tale of Pan's Labyrinth. Am I writing? Despite the inspirations I've had, with my muse pounding down upon my head, I'm still not writing anything. Whom do I blame for this? I have only myself. I am eyeing the simple web link that ladyallyn uses to mark her word count as something to help me utilize, but ultimately, if I'm not setting aside the time to write, if I'm choosing games and glazed eyes over producing something--even that which may be crap--then perhaps I have other issues to deal with. My own fear of confronting that which I must do is putting everything on hold. And where pray tell did I put my to-do list?

I have, at least, fixed my Word program (Norton proved to be the cause of all my distress), and yesterday updated my resume for the new year and my goals. I also updated my on-file resumes at various job pages to help match that which I'm putting out there. Today, however, was set aside for healing. jlaughingwaters took me to the Hot House in Cap. Hill for the first time where we soaked and saunaed (is saunaed a word? At least samiblackmire approves the phrase "vaginal dexterity," because a vagina can, apparently, be dexterous), we meditated and oiled, and throughout we talked. I came away feeling loose and soft--warm hips swaying--and a bottle of breast oil to last me a while if I use it just right.

This weekend we were, for the most part, snow bound. I took Ana to get her ears pierced at Laughing Buddha (apparently I'd found one of the few piercers in the state who took children of all ages), but on the way, slipped on the ice and experienced the wounded pride as construction workers across the street laughed at me and mocked my cries of pain. Ana really was crying and panicked about what to do. After I'd gotten to my knees to assess the damage, I figured I could make it well enough and we ended up arriving a little late, but not too badly bruised. My shoulder and arm still hurt, but with the other healing work I'm already doing, I should be fine soon.

My mother, however, is not fine. She fell down, and that's a far worse situation since getting back up can be nearly impossible for her. She ended up with cuts and scrapes--at least one on her head--but was fortunate enough to get up with some help and has rested. But she's ill again with something else, and I'm ready to come slap her immune system into proper alignment.

My grandmother's worried about me; since I haven't told her or any of my father's family about why I've been away and silent--and might never do so--I couldn't tell her about the hospital visits, the mourning, the medical bills piling up. She doesn't need to know that money is quickly zeroing away because I've been buying more food than I intended (although craigp's been a sweetheart and helped tremendously in that area), which is supposed to be earmarked for rent since it doesn't look like I'll be working anywhere long enough before the end of January to pay it otherwise. Thankfully, I've budgeted well and we should just slip by, but I've been delayed getting paperwork into DSHS for food and medical because of the snow. Now, maybe, I can get proof of my last job ending, provided someone's willing to sign it, and I can choke down my pride enough and ask for a signature.

I have started reaching out socially bit by bit, because I think it's helping me keep on track with where I want to be. If I isolate myself too much, I stop doing anything at all that needs to get done, but talking about what I'm doing with various people helps fuel the fire and keep my motivation up. Too often I quit in the process of creating good habits because I feel I shouldn't spend my time out and away from what needs to be done, but instead I really get more done in concentrated amounts of time if I am also making social visits for myself. Work/play/rest/work/play/rest ... ad infinitum. The outcome is I have plans--finally--with periwinklebliss and passions_sonnet this Saturday evening, I've spent a lot of time with jlaughingwaters, and briefly spent time with damashita and brood. Not enough time, but some. I still need to contact a few people I've let wander away for too long, just to catch up (and one of them I could network through, since he used to be my boss), and a mother at Giddens wants to get our girls together for cocoa soon, and I've been putting it off for far too long.

Last week I started a big to do list that ended up being two pages long, small print, college ruled, etc. I finished about half of it and added more to it so that I now only have a page of *must do this soons* ... if only I could find my notebook this week! At least I remember enough of the important ones, etc.

So, busy, busy, busy. Why the hell am I not writing? Then again, while I've felt the muse continue to give me ideas, I haven't felt the spark for a long time for the language I used to use to convey everything. I made a huge mistake following the advice of various writers, and I've forgotten how to be detailed in my descriptions as I once was. I worked for so long to "trim the fat" and learn how to write dialogue better, that what used to be my strong suit is now very weak. How do we get strong again, Raven? Exercise. Ugh. *laughs*

Speaking of exercise, it feels so very good--and I may have already said this a few days ago--to have someone encouraging me not only to exercise and stretch, but congratulate me when I do it. Thanks, darling. ;)