Word of the blog: Veloce (adj.) - played at a fast tempo
And when I tired of reading I would swim in my pool, parting the azure blue water like a veloce human knife.
--Sergio De La Plava, A Naked Singularity
Hey World,
The close of another week. Where did the time go? Not that I'd want to go back to the beginning of the week. I just wish I could remember what I've been doing with myself the past five days. Working...yes. Eating and sleeping...definitely. Trying not to pitch a fit when someone asked me for one more piece of data after being inundated by waves of Excel spreadsheets and dizzifying rows and columns of numbers...yup, got it covered. The rest of the time must, therefore, have been spent in a drowsy haze of self-imposed amnesia of the just completed working day and decided denial of the morning's 6 'o clock hour, at which time I'd have to get up and start all over again. Yeah, that just about covers it. With so much to do, you'd think it would have been easier for me to recall. (By the way, that last line was sarcasm, just in case you missed it)
At least I managed to complete another chapter. Not a new one or anything, but it did have new parts to it, which after the last few weeks required a supreme effort to get down on paper (again with the paper, I use a computer for God's sake). I'd like to say that group this week encouraged me to forge ahead and to look upon the upcoming new chapters I have to write with excitement, but that wouldn't be precisely true. After group it was more something that had to be done. Like taxes or exercise (the latter of which I refuse to believe is fun for anyone; I don't care what all you skinny people say about endorphins, I know it's a conspiracy). My feeling on my book is pretty much summed up in all those cliches about continuing on: going too far to turn back, in too deep, way past the point of stupidity to try and get smart now. (That last one I might have made up)
But, you get my point. Even if what I'm writing isn't especially good, even if no one's especially excited to read it (I mean, I'm not putting them to sleep, but it's probably not exactly heart-poundingly, edge of your seat, gripping stuff), even if I think I'd like to give it all up as a lost cause...I can't. I can't let go. And maybe I should, but...maybe I don't want to. It's mine, you know. It's all mine. Like a (good) mother who just happened to have an ugly baby. Just because it's ugly doesn't mean you love it any less.
Well, this is my ugly baby. I've nurtured and cared for it past infancy. It's now a toddler, about to graduate into being a pre-teen, and all I can do is tell it how beautiful I think it is; no matter what anyone else might say. Everyone already knows the truth, but what can I say? Beauty's in the eye of the beholder. And, I might be blind to it, but at least it's an admitted blindness full of good intentions.
I think I've stretched that metaphor about as far as it will go. So, what else...what else? Oh, I booked my ticket to go visit my mother over Thanksgiving holiday. I know, I previously got done talking about how I've never had a "real" vacation, but you've got to spend holidays with family, right? It's like some kind of unspoken rule, set in stone the day you're born and signed in blood when you first move out of the house. And, it's not like I'm against visiting my mother. She's not one of those that smother me to death (to the point of unconsciousness, sure; but never death), she's pretty non-judgemental (unless it comes to my weight, and probably my romantic life, if I had one), and she loves to laugh and have a good time. Other than her boundless amounts of energy, and her asking me to go out and play tennis with her, it should be a good trip and fulfill my role as dutiful (somewhat caring) daughter.
I'll also probably see my best friend while I'm there. Looking back on how much our lives have changed over the past four years alone is daunting. Actually, looking back on how much her life has changed over the past four years is daunting. My recent past is more pathetic. I mean she got married, was in a car accident, lost her father, became an aunt twice more, and managed to bring herself from the brink of a debt crisis. Compared to that, I've moved to a small city and... I don't know, gained weight.
Okay, this is all starting to sound depressing, which is not how I wanted it to come out. Maybe I should stop now, while I'm somewhat ahead. Hell, you probably stopped reading a while ago (if there was anyone to read this at all) so I could say almost anything at this point.
Anything like...MAGIC BANANAS! :-) I don't know why that makes me laugh, but it always does. There, I feel better now. Don't you feel better? I thought you would. Never underestimate a little well-placed, humorous crazy. It works wonders for your mental well-being. Also keeps other people on their toes. No one wants to mess with the crazy person. Trust me, I know. [slightly manical laughter]
On that piece of good advice I'll say, until next time.
And when I tired of reading I would swim in my pool, parting the azure blue water like a veloce human knife.
--Sergio De La Plava, A Naked Singularity
Hey World,
The close of another week. Where did the time go? Not that I'd want to go back to the beginning of the week. I just wish I could remember what I've been doing with myself the past five days. Working...yes. Eating and sleeping...definitely. Trying not to pitch a fit when someone asked me for one more piece of data after being inundated by waves of Excel spreadsheets and dizzifying rows and columns of numbers...yup, got it covered. The rest of the time must, therefore, have been spent in a drowsy haze of self-imposed amnesia of the just completed working day and decided denial of the morning's 6 'o clock hour, at which time I'd have to get up and start all over again. Yeah, that just about covers it. With so much to do, you'd think it would have been easier for me to recall. (By the way, that last line was sarcasm, just in case you missed it)
At least I managed to complete another chapter. Not a new one or anything, but it did have new parts to it, which after the last few weeks required a supreme effort to get down on paper (again with the paper, I use a computer for God's sake). I'd like to say that group this week encouraged me to forge ahead and to look upon the upcoming new chapters I have to write with excitement, but that wouldn't be precisely true. After group it was more something that had to be done. Like taxes or exercise (the latter of which I refuse to believe is fun for anyone; I don't care what all you skinny people say about endorphins, I know it's a conspiracy). My feeling on my book is pretty much summed up in all those cliches about continuing on: going too far to turn back, in too deep, way past the point of stupidity to try and get smart now. (That last one I might have made up)
But, you get my point. Even if what I'm writing isn't especially good, even if no one's especially excited to read it (I mean, I'm not putting them to sleep, but it's probably not exactly heart-poundingly, edge of your seat, gripping stuff), even if I think I'd like to give it all up as a lost cause...I can't. I can't let go. And maybe I should, but...maybe I don't want to. It's mine, you know. It's all mine. Like a (good) mother who just happened to have an ugly baby. Just because it's ugly doesn't mean you love it any less.
Well, this is my ugly baby. I've nurtured and cared for it past infancy. It's now a toddler, about to graduate into being a pre-teen, and all I can do is tell it how beautiful I think it is; no matter what anyone else might say. Everyone already knows the truth, but what can I say? Beauty's in the eye of the beholder. And, I might be blind to it, but at least it's an admitted blindness full of good intentions.
I think I've stretched that metaphor about as far as it will go. So, what else...what else? Oh, I booked my ticket to go visit my mother over Thanksgiving holiday. I know, I previously got done talking about how I've never had a "real" vacation, but you've got to spend holidays with family, right? It's like some kind of unspoken rule, set in stone the day you're born and signed in blood when you first move out of the house. And, it's not like I'm against visiting my mother. She's not one of those that smother me to death (to the point of unconsciousness, sure; but never death), she's pretty non-judgemental (unless it comes to my weight, and probably my romantic life, if I had one), and she loves to laugh and have a good time. Other than her boundless amounts of energy, and her asking me to go out and play tennis with her, it should be a good trip and fulfill my role as dutiful (somewhat caring) daughter.
I'll also probably see my best friend while I'm there. Looking back on how much our lives have changed over the past four years alone is daunting. Actually, looking back on how much her life has changed over the past four years is daunting. My recent past is more pathetic. I mean she got married, was in a car accident, lost her father, became an aunt twice more, and managed to bring herself from the brink of a debt crisis. Compared to that, I've moved to a small city and... I don't know, gained weight.
Okay, this is all starting to sound depressing, which is not how I wanted it to come out. Maybe I should stop now, while I'm somewhat ahead. Hell, you probably stopped reading a while ago (if there was anyone to read this at all) so I could say almost anything at this point.
Anything like...MAGIC BANANAS! :-) I don't know why that makes me laugh, but it always does. There, I feel better now. Don't you feel better? I thought you would. Never underestimate a little well-placed, humorous crazy. It works wonders for your mental well-being. Also keeps other people on their toes. No one wants to mess with the crazy person. Trust me, I know. [slightly manical laughter]
On that piece of good advice I'll say, until next time.
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