I'm really tired today. I think it started with too much thinking about people and things that I should let go of, over the weekend. A few too many sodas, when I haven't been drinking them in several months, not enough water, not enough eating, not eating right, and possibly, quite likely, painting the bathroom trim and doors yesterday.
It took me most of the day to paint. I probably painted on dried but uncured latex paint, and even managed to paint the closet door partially shut. *sigh* That was from my quest to make it look all fresh and clean in there. Now I'll have to sand and refresh to keep the door from sticking further.
I brought my lunch in one of my foam / paper coffee cups, and discovered that once the soup thawed out, I only had about a cup of soup to eat. LOL Not well planned. But hey, at least the bulk of the work in painting the bathroom stuff is done, and I'm glad I painted the bathroom door white, because that bright white paint adds a glowing element to the dark hallway. Plus, it makes the bathroom a lot brighter by not having a dark brown door behind me in the mirror. Yay, good decision, if not well executed.
For the second day in a row, I've awakened feeling as though someone used my kidneys as a punching bag through the night. I suspect that I have a kidney infection, going by the general run-down feeling I'm experiencing today. If I do, I will be taking a few days off work, rather than suffering through the fever, nausea, and all the water I'll have to drink throughout the treatment. And yes, I'll probably blog whiningly from my bed.
Actually, I'm beginning to suspect that if there IS some unseen force of Fate out there which pushes us along to our respective destinies, mine might be simply clearing out all of the social time in my life so that I can do some writing. I've left my story hanging, but I have been thinking about it all of this time. I vacillate between handwritten work and computer typed work. Mainly because I don't want anyone to see my failed attempts or poking through something that isn't polished enough for another person to read.
My imagination is still chewing over the storyline, fleshing out the characters, creating dialogue and speech patterns. Sometimes I dream about what I'm going to write about. Because it's a horrible cliche that someone like me is writing a novel, I don't tell many people that I am doing it. I hate failing. More importantly, I hate being ridiculed for failing. :)
But honestly, sometimes I lose my desire to actually participate in anything involving other people, the world outside my bedroom door, or even outside the landscape of my dreams, so my writing hit a bump and was shelved. I think that my blogging is part of the RDA of writing a certain amount per day, so that it becomes second nature. This is what various books and writing tip websites say, and it is the exact same thing that I was told to do in my fiction writing class as an undergrad. Basically, we were blogging before there was such as thing as publicly accessed internet. I imagine that today's writing class students have to write their thoughts into blogs much the same as this one. I don't know where any of my journal entries wound up -- I suspect they are on an old hard drive somewhere in my house. If I did read any of them, I'd likely be embarrassed about the content anyway, so it's probably better that drivel stay inaccessible and forgotten. LOL
Anyway, back to the story writing…. if I do write something that I think is worthy of being read by others and possibly published, I don't want it to be limited to a single story -- I'd like to create a story that can continue past one simple tale.
Once again, I've been accused of something I never did with someone I haven't seen in close to five years. Wow. I wish my reality was as exciting and titillating as some people's imagination. Truth? I'm rather petulant about rejection. My life has been mostly filled with rejection, which may or may not be the reason I'm hesitant to share what I write, fiction-wise. I don't want to put my heart and completely imaginary fantasy love life in print only to be ridiculed for it. So I don't share. Not me or my person, really. Sad, but true. Oh, and don't you mess with my stuff. I've got issues about that. Lol