Tori’s Writing Hole

I have been trying to write more than poetry these days - I’m going for some short fiction as well. The problem is, it takes me a lot longer to get into the meat of a story than it does to use poetry to explain one of my thoughts or feelings. For some, it might be the other way around - for me, I guess my brain works differently.

Anyway, having Julia toddle around my feet while I’m trying to work just isn’t working! She needs attention, I know, but even when she’s doing something like watching TV she keeps trying to shut my laptop in anger. Or, when she’s asleep - she’ll wake up crying just as I settle down to write. Of course, she has no idea she’s doing this to me, but frustration!

I keep telling myself things will change as she gets older and more independent, but sometimes this seems a million years away. Plus, I need to write for money as well - I don’t have enough time for fiction. Arrgh!

Thing is, I don’t even know if I’m good at prose. Never been published, never had rave reviews or praise. Not that I expect that, but there’s really no indication I should continue. But I want to - so I charge on and hope Julia will give me a few seconds each day.

Technorati Tags: writing, fiction, toddler, age

I used to think the worst month of the year was February. Gloomy, no good holidays, middle of the winter - basically useless. I need to revise the “worst” month for 2007, however, to January. This month the following crap has happened:

• I’ve gotten the worst migraines ever, forcing me into the ER where I had a bad reaction to the meds they gave me (compazine) and felt like I was dying.
• My uncle died after a pretty short illness (at least that we knew about). He died in pain and misery, too… not fair.
• I fell on the ice on our steeper-than-steep driveway, sliding on my back and twisting and bruising the muscle. It’s been almost a week and it still hurts.
• Our second car decided to have problems with the starter or battery, we think - so hubby Stephen tried to fiddle with it. He didn’t latch the hood properly (it wouldn’t latch, anyway) so it flew into his face while driving. We now have a second car with a starter problem and broken hood.
• My niece was diagnosed with some issues that are going to make raising her more of a challenge for my already ill sister-in-law.
• Julia (the cutie) has decided she no longer wants to eat. Or get dressed, or get her diaper changed, or stop hitting me in the face.

Needless to say, I’m hoping for a nice, quiet gloomy February. Please?

Technorati Tags: winter, ice, car, baby

Sometimes, I wonder why people live where they live. I don’t mean specific towns or even homes, but regions of the world.

I was born in Chicago, Mom’s from Wisconsin, Dad’s from NYC (born just after his parents immigrated from England and Germany). All of these areas of the world are damn cold. I’m not just talking sort of chilly, need a blanket cold - but really bundle up cold.

Why does so much of the world live in inhospitable conditions? I watched that “Walking with Caveman” show on Discovery (hosted by a less than enthusiastic and somewhat drunk sounding Alec Baldwin), and I understand how Homo sapiens came to these regions, but why did we stay after the whole ice age dealie? By we, I mean my direct ancestors, of course…

Well, I know I’m not stuck, not really - I’ve lived in upstate NY for 90+% of my life, and this probably won’t change anytime soon, but it could. I just guess I wonder what caused some families and clans to evolve to survive the cold, and why I didn’t seem to get those evolutionary skills. Damn I hate ice and snow. Perhaps we’ve just become weak… or I just have. I’m going to go sip some hot chocolate and ponder a tropical vacation.

Technorati Tags: winter, ice, cold, cavemen

This is Me

That little angel never appeared
Just a geek in hornrimmed glasses
Hidden behind a thick novel, frowning
Dissecting sentences and adjectives

Never was a beauty girl, wore jeans
Torn t-shirts with band names
Broke out face, mind broke out
Scared the boys and still do

I wanted to be a pretty girl
Wanted love and admirers
Never made it to an angel
Never made it to the devil

Hands click on keys, hold a pen
Pour thoughts on black and white
Just waiting for that moment, the time
When I will stop waiting for praise.

—
I posted this elsewhere, for those who know (secret society handshake). I’ve been thinking about the past because of Myspace, for all stupid reasons. Stephen started looking up people he knew in high school (remembering the good more than the bad) so I did the same. Everyone has changed so much, which is obvious. I think the most amazing thing is that I still have the same fears about these people that I did 10 years ago. Will they reject me if I “add” them? Will they look at the pics of me and family and go, yep, she’s fat just like we thought?

I wonder how long it takes to stop doubting yourself and start loving yourself. Self esteem, phthththt. Like I’ve ever had that. Even at my prettiest and thinnest (yes, I know, judging the book by the cover and all that) I didn’t feel worth a poop. Today, I feel worth more, but not enough. Hell, I can’t decide on anything. One minute I’m a writer and the next I feel like I should be more than that… should be saving lives and kicking ass.

I wish I could get out of this loop and learn that everyone feels this way (to an extent) but I can’t. Death rears its ugly head in my family, and I feel impermanent… like I’ve got to leave something to society. My mom says my mark is made by my daughter, but I want to leave my own. Perhaps I’ve just got to keep writing…

Boy, am I paying for it. Having exhausted my ability to defer my student loans in their present state, I’m going to have to start paying back the government for my failed years in college. Not that it’s their problem or that college is the reason for the failure, that’s all on me. It just seems unfair that I need to repay thousands of dollars which netted me no degree.

But, Tori, you ask… couldn’t you just finish college? I really could - I’ve got around 15 more credits to complete in order to get a degree in psychology. But now I’m a mom, a writer, a full time disabled person - I don’t know how much more I can fit on this already sagging paper plate. So I sit here and wonder. If I do get that degree, I’ll be in more debt. More money will need to be borrowed in order for me to finish. Will I make more money if I finish? That I don’t know, because I don’t plan to start working outside the home again until Julia’s at least 5 and in school. Plus, I never know when illness will rear its ugly head again.

So I’ll have to keep thinking on this topic, and paying for mistakes I made in the past. I have to follow through on something in my life.

Technorati Tags: college, student loan, writing, psychology