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marinessI noted to a friend on Thursday that I really don't seem to be blogging much about my life these days. I have plenty of reasons for this, good and bad. Some of it is that I haven't that much to blog about recently, some of it is that I've lost my sense of humor about what I could be blogging about. But anyway. So, as a vague update: I feel as if I've just stepped from a roller coaster, and I'm still shaking.
The whole week has been like that – soaring, plunging, soaring, plunging, with small twists and unexpected turns, which after a couple of months where not that much seemed to be happening, was...yeah. Also, frustration since writing progress this week, nil. I could feel myself holding off depression by the thinnest of margins solely because of those soaring moments – and more than once crossing that margin, especially yesterday afternoon, after S and C left.
***
I've spent some time comparing the apartment to the house, although, really, I don't have a comparison. The apartment was on the lake and had a marvelous view, and that was the last kindly thing I could say about it: it was small, cramped, with thin walls that let me hear everything in the other three units and every conversation in the parking lot. It didn't need to be a noisy place, but somehow, in the evenings, despite the general quiet, it was. Not to mention the daily visits of the leafblower that left me dizzy and in tears. And the stairs, which exhausted me and my friends. It was fine at first, but not as things continued.
Here...the house has fairly thick walls and the neighbors rarely use leafblowers. Not that it's totally quiet – the right hand neighbors have some very happy children who have several friends who are seemingly there all the time (their parents have made the same observation wanting to know why) and for the last couple of months have also had a puppy who is the joy of their existence, even though the puppy refuses to do tricks and is terrified both of the huge (but overly friendly) dogs across the street and of the little toy dogs from down the street who never ever seem to be on a leash and of the black and white cat who likes to make the rounds. (This has caused distress to more creatures than the puppy; the Little One desperately wants to make friends with this cat and the Grey One desperately wants this cat to disappear in a permanent sort of fashion.) Apparently, the solution is to train the puppy to be a pirate (not my idea) which requires a lot of screaming and yelling. It's one reason why I worked to get the former garage-turned-hiding-place-for-illegal-aliens-turned-garage into slightly better shape; despite the myriad problems with that room most of its walls are solid concrete/steel, able to shut off some of the sound.
And this house has space. And, when people come by or drop me off, they don't have to watch me on the stairs – and I don't have to know that they're watching. And we have color on the walls instead of the endless white of apartment complexes.
So contentment creeped in.
And yet I'm finding myself writing angrier and angrier stories and poems, when I can write at all. I'm not entirely sure why – perhaps because I can allow the anger to slip out now? Or is it that I'm still angry? I don't know. And while I do know that I'm considerably better and more content than last year, which was not the best of years, it's a fragile contentment. And I've been doing more thinking, more realizations, some large, some small. Sometimes this sort of thinking clarifies matters, sometimes it leads to more depression. I can go from depression to elation in seconds and right back.
Of course right now I'm writing from the post-fun-things crash/letdown, which is both a physical/mental thing these days. I love going out – need to go out – and yet, in a sentence that doesn't make much sense, sometimes the better the time, the worse the crash. Which doesn't mean, I add hastily, that I'm going to hole up here to avoid those crashes if I can help it.
Coffee is kicking in, and feeling better and more cheerful already. (Huge difference between coffee blogging and non-coffee blogging). Which means Green Lantern snark, it is approaching.
********
One of the negative things that I can write about: although Gen Con is still on for this year, it's off for next year, which is a larger disappointment than I thought it would be. However, this may free up money for either World Con or Readercon next year (2012) in addition to World Fantasy Con, with an emphasis on may - Gen Con is cheaper for me than either of those, and the world has so far failed to give me a huge trust fund to live off of. (Fail, world, fail!) We are considering - considering - doing a two day stop at DragonCon to make up for this, a consideration filled with multiple caveats. No decisions on that until next year.
This is as good a time as any to announce that finances and various logistical issues have firmly refused to cooperate and allow me to attend either Readercon or World Con this year. I'm still planning on attending Gen Con and World Fantasy, though, and possibly extending my San Diego trip a bit to sneak in a visit to that Sea World (dolphins!). We shall see.
The whole week has been like that – soaring, plunging, soaring, plunging, with small twists and unexpected turns, which after a couple of months where not that much seemed to be happening, was...yeah. Also, frustration since writing progress this week, nil. I could feel myself holding off depression by the thinnest of margins solely because of those soaring moments – and more than once crossing that margin, especially yesterday afternoon, after S and C left.
***
I've spent some time comparing the apartment to the house, although, really, I don't have a comparison. The apartment was on the lake and had a marvelous view, and that was the last kindly thing I could say about it: it was small, cramped, with thin walls that let me hear everything in the other three units and every conversation in the parking lot. It didn't need to be a noisy place, but somehow, in the evenings, despite the general quiet, it was. Not to mention the daily visits of the leafblower that left me dizzy and in tears. And the stairs, which exhausted me and my friends. It was fine at first, but not as things continued.
Here...the house has fairly thick walls and the neighbors rarely use leafblowers. Not that it's totally quiet – the right hand neighbors have some very happy children who have several friends who are seemingly there all the time (their parents have made the same observation wanting to know why) and for the last couple of months have also had a puppy who is the joy of their existence, even though the puppy refuses to do tricks and is terrified both of the huge (but overly friendly) dogs across the street and of the little toy dogs from down the street who never ever seem to be on a leash and of the black and white cat who likes to make the rounds. (This has caused distress to more creatures than the puppy; the Little One desperately wants to make friends with this cat and the Grey One desperately wants this cat to disappear in a permanent sort of fashion.) Apparently, the solution is to train the puppy to be a pirate (not my idea) which requires a lot of screaming and yelling. It's one reason why I worked to get the former garage-turned-hiding-place-for-illegal-aliens-turned-garage into slightly better shape; despite the myriad problems with that room most of its walls are solid concrete/steel, able to shut off some of the sound.
And this house has space. And, when people come by or drop me off, they don't have to watch me on the stairs – and I don't have to know that they're watching. And we have color on the walls instead of the endless white of apartment complexes.
So contentment creeped in.
And yet I'm finding myself writing angrier and angrier stories and poems, when I can write at all. I'm not entirely sure why – perhaps because I can allow the anger to slip out now? Or is it that I'm still angry? I don't know. And while I do know that I'm considerably better and more content than last year, which was not the best of years, it's a fragile contentment. And I've been doing more thinking, more realizations, some large, some small. Sometimes this sort of thinking clarifies matters, sometimes it leads to more depression. I can go from depression to elation in seconds and right back.
Of course right now I'm writing from the post-fun-things crash/letdown, which is both a physical/mental thing these days. I love going out – need to go out – and yet, in a sentence that doesn't make much sense, sometimes the better the time, the worse the crash. Which doesn't mean, I add hastily, that I'm going to hole up here to avoid those crashes if I can help it.
Coffee is kicking in, and feeling better and more cheerful already. (Huge difference between coffee blogging and non-coffee blogging). Which means Green Lantern snark, it is approaching.
********
One of the negative things that I can write about: although Gen Con is still on for this year, it's off for next year, which is a larger disappointment than I thought it would be. However, this may free up money for either World Con or Readercon next year (2012) in addition to World Fantasy Con, with an emphasis on may - Gen Con is cheaper for me than either of those, and the world has so far failed to give me a huge trust fund to live off of. (Fail, world, fail!) We are considering - considering - doing a two day stop at DragonCon to make up for this, a consideration filled with multiple caveats. No decisions on that until next year.
This is as good a time as any to announce that finances and various logistical issues have firmly refused to cooperate and allow me to attend either Readercon or World Con this year. I'm still planning on attending Gen Con and World Fantasy, though, and possibly extending my San Diego trip a bit to sneak in a visit to that Sea World (dolphins!). We shall see.