The Hazards of the Unforeseen

I'd ask whether life has ever handed you something you did not expect, but it would be a stupid question. Unless you are Nostradamus, it's happened today... or at least this week. My life is filled with the unexpected.

Right now my existence is permeated with it. I had eye surgery, which, unexpectedly to me but not to the eye doctor, it seems, meant I could drive in a week but would have to read large print EVERYTHING for the next 4-6 months.

My kids, only one month into school, have proven they cannot properly handle their classes without my constant nagging and looking over their shoulder. So they are behind. Again. And I have to refocus them ALL DAY to help them get caught back up.

My house is in need of its final overhaul, remodeling the last remaining ugliness. Unfortunately, that involves ripping down wallpaper and refinishing spots on the wood floor. The wallpaper alone has been a beast--the dining room alone took me FIVE DAYS to tackle.

I could whine more, but I won't. I just use these unexpected events as an excuse most of the time. An excuse not to write.

Not productive, I know. You don't have to tell me. Just as I don't have to remind you about all the unforeseen hiccups in your life. So, my vision still a bit blurry, I rip down wallpaper until my fingernails disappear, spackle, stretch my aching shoulders, and wait for NaNoWriMo.

Yet my hope is unchanged. I WILL get this remodeling done. I WILL see fine within the next few months (already I can write this without enlarging it on the screen, and that is GREAT news!). I WILL find a way to make sure my kids stay caught up AND still have time for my own pursuits. I WILL get my priorities back the way I want them, and not the way I have to place them for now.

This will pass. This is temporary. I WILL start my agent search very soon...

As soon as I get the last of this damn wallpaper down.

Killing Time? Or is Time Killing Me?

Before you read any further... bear with me. My eyes have been lased barely three weeks ago, and I have trouble seeing computer screen writing, so I will likely write with a few errors.

The thought occurred to me, yesterday, that I should be depressed because my eyes will not, at this point, allow me to work on my novels... or work on my plays... or read for more than a few minutes at a time. My goals were to get my Thomas novel #3 done in September, revise #2 in October, and write #4 in November... but I know now that such goals are impossible, at least until I can comfortably write for hours on my laptop.

Of course, since I don't tend towards the woe-is-me-whine-fest that seems a plausible notion at this point, I am making the best of the time while I wait. The hubby and I are readying our house to sell (we already put our house in Washington up for sale, and its contract is pending), so I've decided to concentrate on the activities I CAN do with my eyes as they are. Whining is such a waste of time, after all.

I've already ripped down the wallpaper in two bathrooms, leaving me wallpaper in one more bathroom and in the dining room to tear out as well. (Note to would-be wallpaper putter-uppers: DON'T DO IT!!! If you have EVER had to tear down wallpaper, you would never put ANY up again, I promise!) I have several floors to patch up as well, sanding and re-staining, and then lacquering. Each one of these will have to be done carefully, in steps. Once I've patched the de-wallpapered walls, I'll need to prime all the bathrooms and then paint these as well. If I'm too worn out from going up and down the ladder, I'll replace door hinges (most of the house uses brass, and I'll need to replaced the hinges with steel or brushed nickel--SIGH) and door knobs.

But it can't all be work. Thankfully, I can also sew at this point, too, and Halloween is close enough that I can work on costumes. Crystal wants to be a creepy broken china doll (cool!), and Brandon wants to be Lich King (I didn't know who that was, either, so here's a picture:)

Thanks to Justin Currie on Deviantart.com for this rendering of Lich King!

Even my own costume needs finishing (since I started it last October but was distracted by my kids' costumes)... I am dressing up as a woodland faerie, complete with knee-high suede boots and pink flowers. Given my eye status, I might ask Crystal to sew the pink flowers on the costume, in exchange for sewing hers... but it's all bound to be fun.

I assume, if you are reading this, that you have not just had eye surgery. but perhaps you have something else getting in the way of what you REALLY WANT TO BE DOING. So what? Shift gears, try something new instead, and just do SOMETHING. Feel free to browse through possible stuff, find a new path, and just play. You may find your next great adventure.

Now I am off to mine.

Just Keep Writing (or Painting) (or Playing) (or Whatever)

If you've been checking out my word count on the left hand side (and why would you?) you would have seen that my count is steadily going up, up, up. I'm almost halfway through NaNoWriMo, and I'm buzzing along, working on the novel almost every single day.

But I have a friend who is not so lucky. She's a painter, but she has not painted anything in months. This week, trying to put a fire under her, I told her we were going to eat lunch Friday, and if both of us paint on a given week, we go Dutch. If one paints and the other does not, the one who didn't paint pays for lunch. If neither of us paint, we don't get to go to lunch at all.

I had really hoped she would paint on Wednesday, her one day off this week… but she didn't. I haven't painted either, but I was hoping to paint my Christmas watercolor for my Christmas cards. I have to get it done VERY soon so that I can scan the artwork in, order cards on Vistaprint, and get them back in time to send out for Christmas.

I've also been diligently working on the costume for my friend's role in A Christmas Carol, and it should be finished this weekend. And I'm also probably going to hit 30,000 words on my novel by Saturday afternoon.

I'm no better than my poor non-painting friend, but we have an inherent difference, and it's one I've changed just recently: I am no longer willing to put off all the things I love so that I can finish all the mundane, boring have-tos of my life. I am putting my loves ahead of other crap.

My beleaguered friend is the opposite, finding all sorts of mundane crap to pile onto her work desk so that she never gets to paint the way she really wants to. So she's miserable.

Even as I keep sewing, and writing, and painting, I will keep working on my friend. And one of these days, very soon, we'll go Dutch. I can't wait until that happens!

Time to Focus

I have not been able to focus in some time.

Wow, one sentence in, and I'm already lying. OF COURSE I can focus… I can give fifteen minutes to loading the dishwasher, without losing focus. I can sweep the house (takes about 30 minutes) and only lose focus when I find a piece of trash too big to sweep up. 

I can watch a TV show for 45 minutes (that's skipping the commercials, since I rarely ever watch shows live). I can even manage to read the kids a story at night, which might run 10 minutes, or might go as long as an hour. And I can read, too, late at night, before sleeping.

But so many of the things I love DON'T happen because focusing on them for 15 minutes doesn't get me anywhere. 

WRITING: I really need a good HOUR to work on my novel. Microsoft Word has an awesome button on it, though--down at the bottom left. It looks like a black screen with white corner bars, and it's called, of all things, "Focus View." Click on it, and everything on my screen disappears except for the page I'm working on--no icons at the bottom, no distracting stuff, not even the toolbar. Just text, as if I'm reading the novel page by page in real life. But it only works if I have the TIME to focus.

PLAYING PIANO: Time is not my real enemy here, for my hands ache if I practice more than 45 minutes at a time… but it's been hard to do lately for other reasons. The hubby's been home recovering from major surgery, so he's been sleeping a lot, and when he's not sleeping, he's vegging in front of the television. And the piano gets in the way of his sleeping, AND it drowns out the television (if you don't have a piano, you may not realize how loud an instrument it is). Besides, I usually don't have time to play until late at night, when the kids are in bed and trying to sleep (or looking for any excuse not to sleep). Fitting it in while not annoying everyone is the challenge here. And this activity invites interruptions like talking on the phone. Suddenly people sit next to me, ask me questions, ring the doorbell, call, hug, and otherwise keep me from focusing on the sheet music in front of me. 

SEWING: This one is hard, for I can sew for days at a time, but I always have a ton of repairs and alterations stacked up, which I have to address before the fun sewing can begin. Right now it's altering the hubby's new suits when what I really want to do is make my Halloween costume. I'm slowly getting the alterations and repairs out of the way. Another problem is that the sewing machine is portable, and I don't have a dedicated sewing room, so I always have a big mess on my hands when I'm sewing things, and the mess makes me feel guilty and stresses me out.

PAINTING: The hardest to focus on time-wise. Set up alone can be complicated, especially if I'm working on more than one canvas at a time (I'm painting a five-canvas panorama right now). Stopping is hard, too, for paint dries, brushes might get ruined, water cups need to be dumped and refilled, etc. At least my kids know to leave it all alone--such was not the case when they were younger. 

So there they are… all my stupid excuses. I've put them all here, and now I need to get started on something despite them. Time to focus on projects, not excuses. 

Would love to know what gets in the way of your focus… what excuses you make… 

It's Six O'Clock--Do You Know Where Your Writing Is?

I think I'm going to just make a habit of waking up early.

The whole house is sleeping, and the only noise invading drifting through the early morning is the chime of the grandfather clock every fifteen minutes. It's the most luscious sound, full of calm and promise. The perfect time for writing.

I thought today was packed, but items have mysteriously slipped off my to-do list. And I have hopes that homeschooling will soon get easier. Perhaps not this week, but soon.

So it's time to write. Right now. Write now.

I wish you the same leisure... at least an hour to write/paint/sing/listen to music/dance/or whatever suits your soul.

Year, Day, Moment

No resolutions
This year

This year
Is too long to face
Today

Today is all I know
I can count on
This very hour

This hour
I'll do all I can to be
This minute

This swiftly moving minute
Is all I hold, just a point in time
The briefest moment
In my trembling hands.

Enough

I never called you enough
For me
Never found enough time
For all the words I needed to give you
Or glean from you
Little treasures
To tuck into my pockets
And cherish later, when I was alone.

You gave me the glimpse of angels
Of God himself
Yet I have not filled myself enough with you
To cast away all doubt
To believe
To know
With all my heart
What you know all too well.

Yet we are out of time
I am out of chances
To share my little self with you.
And though I do not doubt
The place your sweetness leads you to
The joy I feel for your sake
Is not enough to heal my heart
Torn open by the loss of you.

Time falls too fast
And you must leave the world behind
Quietly
The same beautiful way you lived your life
And I must wait
Until I venture to the timeless lands myself
And you smile, and wave,
And sit down next to me.

Only then will I have enough
Of you.

God bless you on your journey, dearest Joyce.

Self-Pep-Talk

Don't like the way you look? Think your stomach is flabby? Don't like pinching yourself into your jeans every morning? Well, DO something about it. Eat right, exercise, and get yourself in shape. Or buy bigger jeans. Problem solved.

Don't like that your novel isn't finished? You know the answer to this one: WORK on it. It won't get done if you spend the day watching infomercials, sweeping, playing games, or whining to nine friends on Facebook that it isn't done yet. For God's sake, write!

When you don't like the way you smell, you take a shower. When you're hungry, you get something to eat. You pay bills on time, you wash the dishes when they fill the sink. You get the kids to bed when it's time. You do daily stuff like clockwork. You handle all sorts of crappy little chores beautifully, checking them off your list one by one almost as fast as you can write them. Sure, some of your problems may take a bit more work, but that's just it--they take WORK.

So quit your whining, self, and get out there and do the work. You have time. You got the whole day. And tomorrow--don't forget you have tomorrow, too. Get it done.

Time

Anger wanes

With time

Unless we grasp onto it

With hate in our fingers

Bitterness pounding in our forehead

Resentment oozing from our skin

Like sweat

Selfish to prove others wrong

To be right instead of at peace.

Sorrow leaves us

As years pass

Unless we decide

We need to understand

The reason for it

Unless we need to find

That we have caused it in some way

That we can blame someone

For the tears

Let go of time

Release your pain and hate

Forgive

For while you seek the

Answers

That do not exist

You lose

The time you have

For nothing

New Year?

Resolutions abound at this time of year. You could Google the word and find all sorts of them to choose from, including statistical analyses of the most common ones, instructions on ways to accomplish them if you make one, blah, blah, blah.

And, just as with every January, people will set out to be different "this year." They'll join gyms, give up coffee, give more to charity, eat healthier, complain less, spend more time with their kids, blah, blah, blah.

But the gym parking lots won't stay crowded. Churches won't be, either. And kids will go on being ignored or brushed away. Fat lost will be regained. Cigarettes will creep back in. Blood donations will drop before the need lessens. Soup kitchens will feed more people with fewer donations. Initiative for initiative's sake won't last. It never does.

So don't do it. Don't make a resolution for the year. You likely won't keep it up, and when your stamina or endurance falters at the end of January, you'll find it harder to keep going, to pick up when you miss a few days because life gets in the way. You'll give up. You'll feel guilty. You'll feel defeated. And nothing will change.

Instead, take just today. Not the year, not the month, not even the week. Just one day, today, or one hour--this hour--or even just one minute--and choose to act. Tomorrow doesn't matter. Next month doesn't matter. Only now matters right now.

If you're reading this, right now, choose. Choose what you'll do.

It's a small choice, yes. It's a short minute, or few minutes, or hour, yes.

Will it make a difference in the long run?

Yes.

My Favorite Day

I bet y'all thought today must be my birthday! You know it isn't Christmas, nor is it (American) Thanksgiving. No gifts will be exchanged, no parties planned, no cakes made (thank goodness!).

No, it's just my favorite day in the world, the one day of the year I get an extra hour to work on stuff. I've said about a million times before (on this very blog) that I wish I had a Timeturner (and if you don't know what that is, you need to read the Harry Potter books--or at least the third one). This is the one day when time is turned back for me.

Sure, it's only one hour. But that hour is one of the most precious things I have to use, and I have so much I can do with that one hour:

1. Read more to my kids.

2. Give them their piano lessons this week (unlike last week).

3. Go to zumba.

4. Write my day's installment of my NaNo novel.

5. Assess the 101 essays (okay, this will likely take two hours--but I can get half of it done).

6. Revise 3-4 pages of my Thomas novel.

7. Make and enjoy a gourmet, made-from-scratch dinner or cheesecake.

8. Cut out a dress or blouse to sew.

9. Finish reading The City of Ember.

10. Go through my daughter's clothing (or son's clothing, or my own clothing).

I have a much longer list of possibilities, but these are the most likely. What will you do with this blessed extra hour? Sleep? Whine? Watch the boob tube? Don't do that! Make the hour count for something!

Now I'm all done bossing. I don't want to waste anymore time, for that extra hour is awaiting me, needing all my energy and drive. Make your own hour count! I know I will!

What About Now?

You say you want

To be happy

"If only..."

You begin,

If only jobs were abundant

Your house was nicer

The kids were cleaner

The cat didn't throw up so much

The dishes came out of the dishwasher clean

Your boss appreciated you

You could get that other job

That other role

That other guy

That other body

That other place

That other anything

And in the meantime?

You pout and pine

Grumbling over dirty dishes

And wasted dreams

Longing for times past

Or times to come

If only you can get a break

If only you can wake up in the morning

Ready to face the day

Knowing it's worth living for

Screw that

Stop ignoring what's around you

The sun might be dim

But it's there

The world is turning

You're alive

And fit enough to read this page

Today is just long enough

To get something done

To make a difference

To act

To be happy

Use it

And worry about tomorrow

Tomorrow

Finding Time

I need some good ideas. Day after day I get all sorts of other work done... but not work on my novel. I manage to get all of my grading done on time, manage to keep the kids clean and off on their errands, manage to (mostly) keep the house acceptable (though it's mostly pit right now), but day after day I don't get to my novel.

I'd work on it now, I'm about to put the kids to bed, but I have more papers to grade.

I don't know what I can use, but give me all of the advice you've got, everything you or people you know do to manage time more efficiently.

I don't ask for advice often, but once in a while I figure out I don't know it all. Any ideas?

Grading Does NOT Equal Writing

I am SO sorry I haven't posted in more than a week. Many of you have probably noticed my absence on your own blogs, as well.

Unfortunately, my blog is several items down on my priority list:

1. Getting my kids to/from school (with clothes on, showered, fed, etc.)

2. Grading papers

3. Preparing for class (writing out assignments, rereading, writing quizzes/tests, online discussion)

4. Eating regularly

5. Sleep

6. Cleaning the house to the non-pit level

7. Exercising

8. Writing

Lately, #2 and #3 have taken most of my time. In fact, I've jumped you up momentarily, but in just a few moments I need to finish grading--four more papers to go before classes this morning--so even this entry has to be short. It typically try to return papers the very next day, but always within the week, even if I have several batches of them.

Even worse, writing on this blog is not my first writing priority. I have a staged reading coming up a week from Sunday, and my full-length play needs a few rewrites, which I'm sure the director wants yesterday. I hope to get to these tonight, since this will be the first day in quite some time I do not have 3+ hours of grading to do.

Sorry if I sound like I'm complaining, readers. In reality, I only write this now to explain why--and to let you know (in case you were wondering) that I had not died.

I have not died.

I will be back in full force, I promise, when classes end in June. Until then, I will post as much as I am able, and I will check your blogs with every spare moment I have.

Too bad I don't have more spare moments.

Killed by Time

Dreams far off

Goals I feel my being's fiber

Gravitating to

Yearning for

Get lost.

Grading pulls me down

Into a stack of papers 

With my little purple pen

Writing answers

Offering encouragements

Recording score

Circling the smily faces as I go.

But the writing waits

Like a siren 

In the other room,

An untouched file on my laptop

Beautiful, calling for me to

Get lost.

Yet dishes drown me

And clutter drags me across the floor

Bathrooms sniff at me

Children's homework strangles me

Appointments eat at my time

Like moths.

And still the novels cry out

Unfinished

Broken

Filled with holes

Unwritten.

I keep answering:

I'm almost there!

I'm coming!

But I'm not coming.

My time is running out

And I'm not getting anywhere I want to be.

Wasting Time

I took off for my playwriting rehearsal this afternoon, looking forward to centering myself a little around writing and theatre. I reached the theatre ahead of time, pulled out a book to read until everyone else arrived, and waited. 

No one came. I'm still not sure when the rehearsal was supposed to be (I was told 2 p.m.), but since I live nearly an hour from the theatre (and am now home, after waiting there for over half an hour), I won't be driving back for the staged reading tonight. In fact, with all the driving, I spent about 2 1/2 hours--no, wasted 2 1/2 hours--doing absolutely nothing. 

I cannot express how frustrated I am at this moment--although the impact of it is already beginning to fade--frustrated enough to question my involvement in what is otherwise a fantastic playwriting group. They are one of the best writing groups of any kind I've found over the years, and I'm lucky to be involved with them. Really.

But I hate wasting time. And gas. In those 2 1/2 hours I could have read another most of my best friend Cherilyn's novel. I could have finished Susan Cooper's fifth of five books Silver on the Tree. I could have finished Crystal's painting for her room. 

Then again, not going to the performance tonight has freed up quite a bit of time, too. Sure, I'll miss what is likely to be a fine reading, but perhaps I'll get to all those other things, and more.

See, all it takes is a bit of a perspective shift to end my whining. I'm off to read/edit/paint/etc. Hope you're making the fun use of your time, too!

Are We There Yet?

Kids are notoriously incapable of telling time. When my daughter was around three, anything that had once happened to her, including wearing diapers and living in another state, happened "last night." For her favorite friend Dorienne, everything in the past was "yesterday." All past events could be grouped in one single amorphous PAST that floats seamlessly from just a second ago to the very day the child was born.

Children are as time-goofy in the other direction, as well. Just try telling a child he's going to visit his grandma's, but not until next week. Without fail, the child will wake you earlier than normal the next morning, informing you that his bag is all packed for the stay at grandma's, and you need to feed him some toast before both of you leave on the trip. What's a week? Seven days? Is that the same as seven minutes? Oh, longer? More like ten minutes? No? Fifteen? What? How long is that?

The anxiety can be tremendous, for three minutes in time out feels to a three-year-old like a day and a half. Oh, when will the happy moment come when I don't have to sit here on this timeout bench anymore? When is daddy coming home? When is breakfast? Yum. When's lunch? What do you mean I have to wait four hours?!?

Driving trips are the same. Are we there yet? How long is this going to take? What town are we in now? (That last one is my kids' personal favorite, and I name off the towns as we go by... Monroe, Snohomish, Woodinville, Bothell, Bellevue, and so on.)

I could keep on criticizing my kids, but it isn't their fault. They truly cannot grasp the concept of time until their brains develop a bit more. In fact, even as adults we don't grasp time well. My husband, for instance, thinks that time runs more slowly than it actually does (and is therefore nearly always late). A student once tested me with regards to time keeping, and my task was to tell her when I thought 60 seconds had passed. I waited, waited, in silence, stressing out, afraid 60 seconds had long since passed. I finally couldn't take the strain and said, "Now." It turns out 36 seconds had passed. As you might guess, I'm habitually early for everything.

But it isn't just deadlines that have us mixed up. We still so often get caught up in what is coming in the future, so much so that we forget to look around and enjoy what is happening right now. I have done this countless semesters (as have my students), telling myself that once I get my grades all turned in I can relax. Or I say, this semester was awful, but next semester is going to be great. Or, I don't like where I live now, but the next place I live will be perfect. My next job will be ideal. My next house will be exactly what I want. My child's next teacher will be better.

But is anything as spectacular as we imagine, when we bank our soul's happiness on it to that extent? 

I just turned in my grades today (yahoo!), but even before this milestone, my life's been pretty good, including the finals to grade and underachieving students to reprimand. My daughter turns nine in two days, and I don't have any expectations about what that will mean for her. I just want to enjoy her now, at this very moment. Right now I am enjoying watching her sleep with the little Christmas tree in her room at this very moment. 

I hope she's not dreaming about someday. I hope she's dreaming about now.

Built In Worker Bees

I know a few blog posts ago, I discussed hiring a maid. And who would blame me? I've got eight classes lined up for fall (two already begun, six to go), and I am soon to be swamped in papers. 

But how much would a maid cost? $50 a week? Depends on what I want the maid to do... clean the bathrooms, sweep and wash floors, do laundry (that's what the hubby suggested, probably because he feels guilty for never doing it himself--then again, the idea of someone else washing my panties, well... that's just not a very comfortable thought for me)? No matter what I want her to do, that's a lot of time. We're probably talking more than $50 a week. So, for a little over $200 a month, I'll have clean floors, clean bathrooms, and clean clothes. 

I, cheapy person extraordinaire, have thought of a way to save. No, that's unfair. My best friend up here in Seattle showed me the way with her own system. Inspired, today I made a list of chores, from sweeping the floor to vacuuming rugs, and put prices to them. Okay, most of the tasks, from unloading the dishwasher to cleaning up the living room, were 25 cents a piece, but I did up the reward for cleaning all three bathrooms (to $1). 

I read the list to my kids. And what happened? My son went straight for the dishwasher, and while he couldn't reach all the cupboards, he still saved me about five minutes. And my beloved daughter cleaned all three bathrooms (yes, I had to show her how, but that's the cleanest those toilets have been in months--and I'm pretty anal about it). 

Will the steam under them continue? It might, especially when they get their pay at the end of the month. And in the meantime, they're learning responsibility, they are learning how important they are to the running of the household, and they are learning to serve. 

And I'm learning to let things go a little, to be done by smaller hands than mine. 

I still don't think I'll let them handle the panties, though. At least not for a while.