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Bad blogger, no biscuit
I know, I know. I have retreated to another one of those periods of tedious dullness again, where my sense of humor has tiptoed off to hide in a corner to avoid the risk of permanent damage, where my mind stumbles looking for words, where I am obsessed – obsessed – over matters that matter very little to the rest of you, like, can those kitchen cabinets be painted in time? Can they? Can they? The worst of it is that I know I've been dull much of the month, even before the house stuff. Especially for those of you who are just here for the movie/television snark, and you know who you are.
Part of the problem is that I find myself writing blog posts full of complaints, reading them over, and thinking, do I really want that out on the internet? And deleting a post. Exhaustion also makes me more rambling than ever: I had a post about the three Life Achievement Awards from the World Fantasy Convention this year which went on and on without making its main point: if this is a world fantasy award, why have we only nominated a couple of actual international, i.e., non English speaking writers? (Jorge Luis Borges and Italo Calvino, if I'm correct) Before realizing that there, I'm really part of the problem – I didn't exactly nominate any international writers either, which is going to change next year.
And I'm rambling again.
The second problem is that I have been fighting, very hard, against this turning into a disability blog, or a disability/writing blog, and yet, the overwhelming theme of the month has been, you are disabled and in a wheelchair, and, well, as I've mentioned before, this is something I'm still struggling to accept. Yes, you'd think that a year would have been enough, but not really.
And yet this unquestionably has had an effect on my overall attitude. On Monday, I happened to be passing a building in Orlando MetroWest that I'd never seen before, with a corner lined with magnificent stairs, and rather than thinking about most of the buildings, I found myself focusing on the stairs: where was the ramp? The wheelchair access? And, come to think of it, with that many outdoor stairs (a full flight) was an elevator anywhere? And so on.
These are not things I've had to think about before, although those of you who are wheelchair users are probably nodding along right now, but I'm finding that they've become an automatic part of my thinking. I'm spending probably more time
And there's other issues that I figure most of you probably just don't want to know about: I mean, did all of you really want to know that the kitchen cabinets were so covered in grease (and assorted other things) that not only was I becoming more convinced than ever that Cthulhu was trying to get in, but, the paint primer wouldn't stay on even after repeated cleanings. I didn't think so.
(Yes, cleaning/repainting is just a temporary solution for the kitchen cabinets – we just don't have the time to replace them properly just now, and that's something that should be done right.)
And the frustration that I wish I could be doing more right now.
Of course all this and the my low writing output in general has made all of those old fears, I think typical of writers, come creeping back: I don't know how to write anymore. I can't be interesting. I'm not funny. I'll never write again. I'll never write anything good again. (If it's not obvious, I'll note quietly and publicly that not surprisingly outside factors have got me down again.) It's insidious, and however much I'm trying to say, temporary, temporary more of me is noting just how often this sort of thing, creating writing issues, has happened this year.
So, yeah. Dull. Not funny. But hang in there (directed more at me than you, frankly): World Fantasy is coming up next week, some major things, not just the move, should be over by mid November, and also, I understand that a certain trainwreck of a movie is coming up rather soon, which should bring the snark back on.
Part of the problem is that I find myself writing blog posts full of complaints, reading them over, and thinking, do I really want that out on the internet? And deleting a post. Exhaustion also makes me more rambling than ever: I had a post about the three Life Achievement Awards from the World Fantasy Convention this year which went on and on without making its main point: if this is a world fantasy award, why have we only nominated a couple of actual international, i.e., non English speaking writers? (Jorge Luis Borges and Italo Calvino, if I'm correct) Before realizing that there, I'm really part of the problem – I didn't exactly nominate any international writers either, which is going to change next year.
And I'm rambling again.
The second problem is that I have been fighting, very hard, against this turning into a disability blog, or a disability/writing blog, and yet, the overwhelming theme of the month has been, you are disabled and in a wheelchair, and, well, as I've mentioned before, this is something I'm still struggling to accept. Yes, you'd think that a year would have been enough, but not really.
And yet this unquestionably has had an effect on my overall attitude. On Monday, I happened to be passing a building in Orlando MetroWest that I'd never seen before, with a corner lined with magnificent stairs, and rather than thinking about most of the buildings, I found myself focusing on the stairs: where was the ramp? The wheelchair access? And, come to think of it, with that many outdoor stairs (a full flight) was an elevator anywhere? And so on.
These are not things I've had to think about before, although those of you who are wheelchair users are probably nodding along right now, but I'm finding that they've become an automatic part of my thinking. I'm spending probably more time
And there's other issues that I figure most of you probably just don't want to know about: I mean, did all of you really want to know that the kitchen cabinets were so covered in grease (and assorted other things) that not only was I becoming more convinced than ever that Cthulhu was trying to get in, but, the paint primer wouldn't stay on even after repeated cleanings. I didn't think so.
(Yes, cleaning/repainting is just a temporary solution for the kitchen cabinets – we just don't have the time to replace them properly just now, and that's something that should be done right.)
And the frustration that I wish I could be doing more right now.
Of course all this and the my low writing output in general has made all of those old fears, I think typical of writers, come creeping back: I don't know how to write anymore. I can't be interesting. I'm not funny. I'll never write again. I'll never write anything good again. (If it's not obvious, I'll note quietly and publicly that not surprisingly outside factors have got me down again.) It's insidious, and however much I'm trying to say, temporary, temporary more of me is noting just how often this sort of thing, creating writing issues, has happened this year.
So, yeah. Dull. Not funny. But hang in there (directed more at me than you, frankly): World Fantasy is coming up next week, some major things, not just the move, should be over by mid November, and also, I understand that a certain trainwreck of a movie is coming up rather soon, which should bring the snark back on.
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