Opening the Halls of Editing and What She Found There

The creator of Garfield had it right – Mondays typically suck. You get up early with less than enough sleep attained; rush to get ready for a job that in all likelihood you hate; work said job and hope that you don’t explode, kill someone, or fall asleep; and only after you get home, exhausted from doing something essentially mind-numbing all day, do you start to feel awake… just in time to go to bed so you can wake up early for Tuesday.

It was only after nearly falling asleep at my workstation today, alongside several other classmates who were struggling against the same compulsion as our teacher droned on about the same material we’d covered a dozen or more times before… it was only after nodding off in a way reminiscent of the strange sensation of physically falling when meditating (another story, I assure you) that I came to realize that I had nothing to show for today. Most days when I’m working/sitting through class/trying hard to stay conscious, I’m scribbling away whenever possible either writing out more story or doodling in my sketchbook.

It keeps my hands busy and my mind becomes able to focus a bit better somehow. I don’t understand how that works since for some odd reason I can’t focus on two conversations directed at me at once yet here I am able to focus on the conversation going on inside my head with all the detail and clarity hitting the page while at the same time listening and comprehending what is being said around me. Nope, makes no sense at all.

So as for my not getting anything of note done for the day, after I arrived home and settled down, I started looking through some of my stories in my editing folder.

Wow.

I really need to do that a bit more often. I tend to forget just what all I have in that thing. They need TLC, of course, but I keep forgetting I even have that stuff. And rereading it, it sort of makes me a little proud of myself because some of them are actually halfway decent. So… off I go to make some more to put in there and continue to ignore. One day, when I’m bored out of my mind, I’ll go through them all and question my sanity… as if I don’t already do that on a regular basis. Hehe… *walks away with a conspiratorial twitch*

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A Quiet Rage Rolls Beneath the Surface, Like Magma Searching for an Outlet

As much as I’m enjoying the fact that I am currently working, work sucks major monkeyballs. Though, I suppose I could attribute that to one person (the Angry One) creating a tense and overall hostile environment in our training group. We’ve been working there for almost two weeks now and he’s blown up at all of us three times now, twice while the teacher was leading the group. I honestly feel like a horrible person for hoping that he does not make it through training. Today he exploded at us for the third time and this time I felt him direct it at me, despite the fact that he didn’t outright blame me. (I did what I was supposed to, just to be clear. He just wasn’t paying attention.)

Also today I saw my old supervisor (codename: the Tall One). I was too far away to say hi, and when I waved he completely ignored me. Oh, sure, he’ll -claim- he didn’t see me, but we all really know what it was lol. Okay, he really didn’t see me and he was in a bit of a rush. I just like giving him a bit of a hard time. Have to have fun somehow, y’know…

But… I suppose what’s really bothering me is how unhappy I actually am. It’s funny. I was at my happiest and then almost out of nowhere I’m suddenly not. The Stray and I still talk, but it’s nothing like it used to be. I miss how easy and open our talks once were, how happy they were. Now all it takes is a few words to dredge up all of the pain, all of the anger, and all of the sadness. I’d almost rather be angry with the Stray than cry myself to sleep, though that’s what I tend to do anyway. The words “There are plenty of other girls just waiting to take your spot” still haunt me, still dig a knife deeper into my chest, still ring out as “You’re easily replaceable.”

I was replaced within a couple of weeks.

And now to hear about her, to hear how wonderful and sweet she is, to hear everything I’m not or can’t be right now… deeper still. Is it any wonder that when I get a disappointed sigh from the Stray I turn angry? I’m not a Stray. In softer times I might be called a kitten, but I feel more like a bird in a cage and even when the door is opened, my foot is still tethered to the perch by a narrow golden chain. It’s not long now, though. There is a weak link, and soon I should be able to break free. I just have to choose my moment carefully.

“I’m not going to be the one who waits, patiently, for something that’s likely never to happen,” still sounds like “you’re not worth waiting for.” It certainly looks that way too. So why the disappointed sighs that piss me off so much, as if an unfair judgement has just rained down from above? I can’t act free because I’m not. Not yet. I can rail to the sky that my life is unfair but this girl in a cage hasn’t energy to spare. Not if I’m to escape and finally fly free. Though, I’m still angry to hear that it’s hell to wait an eternity and then to hear that I don’t understand when it should be obvious that I actually do.

But then again, what do I know? I’m just a girl who likens herself to a kitten that’s probably all fluff and razorblades right now and a bird whose feathers are all ruffled and puffed up.

Just a Thought

What is the best gift a writer (or aspiring writer) can hope to give to someone they care about? What is the best way to show that you love a person? It’s simple. Write a story for them. Tell them what you think, what you feel, and try your hardest to convey it all in the words of a story. Sometimes the wording may not mesh exactly right. Sometimes a phrase becomes mangled. But usually, if you’re careful and you put everything you have into it, you can get the feelings across. And that’s the important part.

I screwed up. I screwed up the same way a person developes an illness. You don’t mean to get it, but it just happens and there’s nothing, if anything you can do to stop it from happening. The only thing to do is to pick up the pieces, hope they can fit back together, and get better.

“Woo me,” they said with a smirk on their face, as if I haven’t been trying from the start. As if I hadn’t been called the Best Girlfriend Ever multiple times just for being myself and giving thoughtful treats that were well received.

Oh yes, I screwed up. I didn’t mean to. And we’re back to that space before the starting line all over again, it feels. But you know, there are moments, a few very special tender moments, when I realize that maybe it’s not so bad to go backward like this every so often. When was the last time I felt such a thrill from just the thought of a hand upon my cheek or so grateful for a single hug that I know will feel warm and safe? When, before this mess started, did I stop appreciating the person before me?

Sometimes, we all just need a little reminder of what we already have and how wonderful it can be.

“Let the Challenges Make You Strong.”

I apologize to whomever cares to read this that I’ve been silent for the last few weeks. These past few weeks have been a bit rough for me. Between personal problems, health issues arising from said personal problems, and another push to find employment of some sort, it’s not been fun.

To put it simply, something in my life had me suffering a full-blown anxiety attack. I’d never had one that bad and over the days afterward I had mild aftershocks. Two days ago I had another one that left me terrified of some other health effects. Stress always goes straight to my stomach, so I lost a few pounds as a result. As of today, I’m happy to report that my stomach is no longer hating me upon waking up in the morning. I can eat a little without feeling nauseous or like it’ll make a return appearance.

It’s kind of sad when that’s my happy moment of the day, isn’t it? And truth be told, I’m a little disappointed in myself. I’m the cause of my personal problems. It’s a psychological issue and it amazes me how much control the brain and emotions can have over the rest of the body, how much damage we can do to ourselves just because of fear and anxiety or whatever.

A friend of mine shared an image via Facebook today. It’s a classic motivational poster type image with a scenic background in muted colors with an inspirational quote on top in white letters.

“Look for something positive in each day, even if some days you have to look a little harder. Let the challenges make you strong.”

And it made me realize that even though I used to do that regularly, I haven’t been doing that much, if at all, recently. The question of “when did I stop” floated near the surface, but in the end that answer is irrelevant. When I stopped doesn’t change when I’ll start again. But it does bring to mind a truly relevant question: What other good habits I once built for myself have I been ignoring and thus forgetting? What did I used to do that made me happy and fulfilled that I’ve stopped doing for one reason or another or no reason at all?

I used to meditate. I used to do regular tarot readings for myself because it made me think about my life and feel good (even when the reading was more negative, I still felt good for some reason). I used to dance regularly. I used to sing more. I used to sit at my computer and write almost daily. I used to sit down and enjoy a few cups of tea in the afternoon (haven’t been since my stomach has been upset, but I’m fixing that today). I used to go for morning walks. I used to stay up well past midnight and enjoy the quiet that comes from a house at rest. I used to play more puzzle and hidden object games than I do. I used to devour books and not feel bad about it. I used to go out for myself every couple of weeks (now it’s once a month if I’m lucky, and I’m not counting going out to fill out an application as “for me”).

So what am I doing to fix all of this? I don’t know yet. But I need to. And the consequences are mine alone to suffer.

“‘Have you ever been in love, Kiko?’ Isobel asks.

“Tsukiko’s shoulders stiffen as she exhales slowly. For a moment Isobel thinks her question will go unanswered, but then she replies.

“‘I have had affairs that lasted decades and others that lasted hours. I have loved princesses and peasants. And I suppose they loved me, each in their way.'”

— Erin Morgenstern, The Night Circus

Because sometimes you just happen to come across that perfect passage that reminds you of someone you know who has affected your life in some way.