5. Work is kicking my butt. My day is spent shoving 10 hours of work into an 8 hour day in order to avoid overtime because that means filling out an additional Two payroll timesheets on PAPER - something I find both archaic and idiotic. I work for a company that is essentially paperless. We then got sucked up into the vortex of a Big company - a good thing or so I thought. Except that company? Still works on a 1970's level of paper Everything! I'd hazard a guess that they are directly responsible for 80% of the world's deforestation. It amazes me on a daily basis how they are successful with such inefficient processes.
4. I am Tired. (see above)
3. I am writing. Since Mr. Clean's return, I have had the time (but not always the inclination) to hit my novel again. I received critique on my first 15 pages and the comments were all quite helpful. That being said, I'm glad I have thick skin - something every writer being critiqued really needs to possess. Otherwise, I might have just viewed the comments and then cried for the next week. Some were harsh but having grown up with riding instructors (equestrian) who could give Hitler a run for his money, I take criticism well. After reading through all of the criticisms, I made notes and then proceeded to ditch my entire first draft, still incomplete. The problem: I'm way too wordy and need to seriously tighten up my writing. Example: I was 80k words into the story and wasn't quite halfway there! I knew I had a problem. Just wasn't quite sure how to fix it. Now I'm spending my writing evenings Alt+Tab-ing between the two drafts. Read three paragraphs, tighten to one. Read one page, tighten to a paragraph. I also tweaked the plot just a bit. I should be depressed but, funny enough, I have a fresh new excitement for it.
2. While Mr. Clean was gone, I started a nasty jaw-clenching habit. Not a clue where this came from but I'm told: Stress. Heh. I don't doubt that theory. When he returned, it continued. A habit is a habit, after all. Two days after his return, my jaw ached. Meh. Big deal. Although, in the back of my mind, a little voice attempted to remind me that my pain tolerance levels routinely cause issues with my health - i.e. I have an enormous pain tolerance so something I consider "Meh" might flatten someone else completely. Did I listen? Nooooooo. Because that would have been the Smart thing to do.
The next day, I found my face transformed into a chipmunk's and realized I'd taken the bullet train to hell while I slept. Crying was excruciating. Sitting wasn't much better. Off to the dentist I went - and let me just say I have serious Fear issues with dentists. As in someone else has to drive, shove me through the door, and then also stay to make sure I don't leave before the actual appointment takes place. Fun! All that to learn I have a wisdom tooth down there, at an angle which is pushing on the roots of my back molar. The jaw clenching was pressing the two against each other and set off an abscess. Yippee!!! The antibiotics took a WEEK to start doing their job but in the meantime, I had lovely narcotics to play with. I am told that I waxed quite poetically about the sheer immeasurable beauty of my pillow. All I remember is waking up to find I'd been drooling more often than not. Ewww.
To top it off, I couldn't talk. I spent my more lucid moments trying to enact crazy charade like communications with Shaggy and Doodlebug because (thinking it Funny) they refused to get me pen and paper. Yes, my spawnlings have an enormous understanding of sarcasm and I think this was probably strategized revenge for my previous laundry/dishes strike. They do, however, now understand Mime Speak for "I'm going to sell you to the gypsies if you don't give me the remote because these cartoons are resembling a bad acid trip to my drug fogged brain!" (Digression: I have never dropped acid but knew plenty of folks who did - one of which who used to hold 'acid parties' at his house, complete with Pink Floyd's "The Wall" playing on... heh... the wall. I happened to drop in on one of those parties and was quite literally scared into never touching the stuff)
1. Karma happened and the Spawnlings with Humor Issues contracted the black plague of coughing and spewing. I felt bad for them.... and good for me because I was taking antibiotics and thus, could not catch their bug! Imagine for a moment, Mom on the couch telling the pillow how pretty it is while Shaggy and Doodlebug lie in their respective beds coughing like plague victims - intermittently calling, loudly, for miscellaneous fluids, cold cloths, and more medicine. I have very little memory of the day (for which I am thankful). I finally awoke from my drug stupor earlier this week and found that their plague? Viral. Yes, folks. I got it.
So blogging.... not on my high list of priorities at the moment. (although I managed to get a fairly long one out just now) I promise something more upbeat in the coming week.
EDITED to add: I have had a request for instructions on how I accomplished making my spawnlings do housework without complaint. I'll work on that for my next post.
4. I am Tired. (see above)
3. I am writing. Since Mr. Clean's return, I have had the time (but not always the inclination) to hit my novel again. I received critique on my first 15 pages and the comments were all quite helpful. That being said, I'm glad I have thick skin - something every writer being critiqued really needs to possess. Otherwise, I might have just viewed the comments and then cried for the next week. Some were harsh but having grown up with riding instructors (equestrian) who could give Hitler a run for his money, I take criticism well. After reading through all of the criticisms, I made notes and then proceeded to ditch my entire first draft, still incomplete. The problem: I'm way too wordy and need to seriously tighten up my writing. Example: I was 80k words into the story and wasn't quite halfway there! I knew I had a problem. Just wasn't quite sure how to fix it. Now I'm spending my writing evenings Alt+Tab-ing between the two drafts. Read three paragraphs, tighten to one. Read one page, tighten to a paragraph. I also tweaked the plot just a bit. I should be depressed but, funny enough, I have a fresh new excitement for it.
2. While Mr. Clean was gone, I started a nasty jaw-clenching habit. Not a clue where this came from but I'm told: Stress. Heh. I don't doubt that theory. When he returned, it continued. A habit is a habit, after all. Two days after his return, my jaw ached. Meh. Big deal. Although, in the back of my mind, a little voice attempted to remind me that my pain tolerance levels routinely cause issues with my health - i.e. I have an enormous pain tolerance so something I consider "Meh" might flatten someone else completely. Did I listen? Nooooooo. Because that would have been the Smart thing to do.
The next day, I found my face transformed into a chipmunk's and realized I'd taken the bullet train to hell while I slept. Crying was excruciating. Sitting wasn't much better. Off to the dentist I went - and let me just say I have serious Fear issues with dentists. As in someone else has to drive, shove me through the door, and then also stay to make sure I don't leave before the actual appointment takes place. Fun! All that to learn I have a wisdom tooth down there, at an angle which is pushing on the roots of my back molar. The jaw clenching was pressing the two against each other and set off an abscess. Yippee!!! The antibiotics took a WEEK to start doing their job but in the meantime, I had lovely narcotics to play with. I am told that I waxed quite poetically about the sheer immeasurable beauty of my pillow. All I remember is waking up to find I'd been drooling more often than not. Ewww.
To top it off, I couldn't talk. I spent my more lucid moments trying to enact crazy charade like communications with Shaggy and Doodlebug because (thinking it Funny) they refused to get me pen and paper. Yes, my spawnlings have an enormous understanding of sarcasm and I think this was probably strategized revenge for my previous laundry/dishes strike. They do, however, now understand Mime Speak for "I'm going to sell you to the gypsies if you don't give me the remote because these cartoons are resembling a bad acid trip to my drug fogged brain!" (Digression: I have never dropped acid but knew plenty of folks who did - one of which who used to hold 'acid parties' at his house, complete with Pink Floyd's "The Wall" playing on... heh... the wall. I happened to drop in on one of those parties and was quite literally scared into never touching the stuff)
1. Karma happened and the Spawnlings with Humor Issues contracted the black plague of coughing and spewing. I felt bad for them.... and good for me because I was taking antibiotics and thus, could not catch their bug! Imagine for a moment, Mom on the couch telling the pillow how pretty it is while Shaggy and Doodlebug lie in their respective beds coughing like plague victims - intermittently calling, loudly, for miscellaneous fluids, cold cloths, and more medicine. I have very little memory of the day (for which I am thankful). I finally awoke from my drug stupor earlier this week and found that their plague? Viral. Yes, folks. I got it.
So blogging.... not on my high list of priorities at the moment. (although I managed to get a fairly long one out just now) I promise something more upbeat in the coming week.
EDITED to add: I have had a request for instructions on how I accomplished making my spawnlings do housework without complaint. I'll work on that for my next post.
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