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 |   Exploring the future through the present. One day at a time. |
| I’d like to introduce to you a few of my new, and ever constant companions. Warning: You of the male persuasion may want to skip the first one. Pain: And not just any pain. It plays in but one - make that two - locations. Some days are better than others, and sometimes this pain decides to sit still for a while during the day to give me a small measure of relief. If not for my Victoria’s Secret support bras, this pain would play even more, methinks. Indigestion: Not full-blown morning sickness, I still can’t eat anything without less than an hour later my stomach flip-flopping around with so much enthusiasm I wonder if it’s bruising my liver and intestines. I have yet to develop a deeply personal relationship with John, but I anticipate I soon will. Not all of my new companions give me grief, though. Allergies: I should say lack thereof. Right now, especially with the constant rainfall for the last week, I should suffer from a plugged up nose, itchy ears, nose and throat, simultaneously dry and watery eyes, and constant sneezing so hard my chest feels like it will implode. So far my worst symptom is an occasional sneeze or two. Appetite: I’ve always had a healthy appetite, but at least now I have an excuse to make a glutton of myself. Ha! To eat with little or no guilt, I kinda like it. Anyway, all I have time for today is write my entry. I have a house to clean. Not because the 'nesting fever' has kicked in, but our new garage is about done, and Dave invited a bunch of people over for a 'garage warming party' tonight. Gotta have a presentable house for that. Hope you all have a wonderly Saturday! |
| To those who read my entry yesterday, but didn’t read all the comments, I want to stress it wasn’t a complaint against blogging, but about how I need to switch my expectations with my other writings from about me to about the story and its characters, or about the article and its message. A journal, or blog, is supposed to be about the person writing it. It’s the personal, individual touch that makes the rest of us come back for more. Hey, the first sentence of the above paragraph is long: 53 words! It doesn’t beat my record of 67, though. zwisis made an excellent point yesterday about how a reader does care about an author on a personal level, and she used JK Rowling as an example. Very true, but that didn’t happen until after her novels succeeded. She, and most other authors, gain recognition through their writing, not through their personality to start. As with most things in life, there are exceptions. Entertainers are one. Who wouldn’t want to read a book written by their favorite actor, comedian, or even politician? Is it possible to turn the eye of a publisher or agent through a person’s blog? Absolutely, but I believe it requires two ingredients: top writing ability, and some marketing savvy. As I stated in yesterday’s entry, if a person’s writing isn’t excellent, no matter the subject, publishers won’t take a second look. A person also needs to find a way to gain the attention of thousands of readers - and return readers to boot. Those who’ve achieved book deals through their blogs claimed those numbers. I am not one of those people. For one, though I think some of my entries would make excellent articles, my writing and the subjects I choose to discuss aren’t consistent enough for that kind of attention. Plus, I’m not motivated enough to self-market, at least not where my journal here is concerned. Besides, as much as I enjoy adding entries, and having you read and comment, it’s not my highest passion. Recently I’ve lost focus on what that passion is, and could be the main reason I’ve had so much trouble writing and sending what I’ve written out to editors. I have to once again ask myself: Why do I write? If I am to leave anything of value behind when God calls me home, what would that be? I used to know the answer with little to no thought. Now I’m not so certain. I’m sure the lack of confidence stems from listening to my doubts too often. Confidence grows only by taking chances, and I’ve taken few chances of late. In discussing this with a friend a few days ago, I said by not moving forward with my stories and articles, I’m disobeying God. He gave me the talent, and the passion, so why am I not using it? I have much to show for it, yes, but most of those results, as I said previous, sit idle collecting computer dust. That’s about as useful as a minister preaching to an empty room. |
| Yesterday I spent much of my time reflecting over my last entry. The nice thing about writing a journal is I can see what I’m feeling and thinking, step back from it and look at it from multiple points of view. I discovered a few things about how my original point of view has been holding me back from getting my butt in gear with regard to publishing. Writing this and my previous journal has spoiled me, as well as encouraged the attitude ‘it’s all about me.’ Blogging, unlike other writing, is based largely on personality. We write about our lives, and do our best to make it interesting for others to read. Throwing modesty out the window, I believe you come back here time and again because you want to know more about me. Yes, quality writing helps, and I’m certain is due to return visitors to everyone’s blog. Again, keeping modestly locked out of my house for the moment, if I wrote terrible with little by way of making you laugh, cry, or think, no one would come back. Because I convinced myself my writing is about me, well, I have to put me out there in order to get noticed. ‘Fraid not. A reader, whether it be fiction or non-fiction, cares not a whit about the author. The reader seeks only a good story well written. Loyalty to an author, like here, builds only with quality writing. It was never about me, but about what I write. If I believe in those stories and articles, well there's absolutely no reason to hide them. My mental flagellation doesn’t end there. I commented in Randy’s blog about how I have only a vivid imagination and desire to write; I have no professional qualifications for a Super Article to gain people’s attention. Not vivid enough! If my imagination was truly vivid, I could come up with an article that people would flock to read. Professional qualifications don’t mean anything if, again because readers don’t care about me, I have something they want. Funny, after all this, Randy added another entry that said much of the same thing. Guess I’m learning from him after all. I have more to say about this, turning my focus on why I write, but that will come tomorrow. Darn it, but I have work to do. Gotta earn that paycheck, ya know. As my cousin likes to say, “One of the pitfalls of not being on welfare.” |
In his entry "Invalid Entry"  David McClain  discussed repetition, and how sometimes it’s difficult to avoid after a while.Problems work the same way. At least for me, I run into the same frustrations again and again, and write about them again and again. Lucky you. My subtitle for this journal came from a comment I left in someone else’s blog: Dreaming is a prerequisite to living. Without dreams, how can we look forward to today and tomorrow? They’re what get us out of bed every morning. There comes a point when dreaming isn’t enough. To keep those dreams alive, I must work toward them. Nothing will fall into my lap. Dreams don’t come true; I make them happen. I discovered in walking this all-too-familiar Desert of No Words I expect my path toward publication to magically appear before me; all I need to do is walk it. Life has proved to me I must blaze this path with my hands, blood, sweat, and tears. No one will do it for me. I’m sick of reading stories of writers about how, for example, through their blog, some publisher or agent took notice and voila, a book deal. Stories like that only make me dream I’m worthy of such miracles. I get lazy and expect it to happen. Only to wallow in my disappointment. I’ve mentioned before Randy Ingermanson’s new blog ( http://www.advancedfictionwriting.com/blog/index.php ). I admit I expected to be noticed through my comments alone, or to impress someone with the first two paragraphs of my story. Ha! What audacity. I participated with impure motives - to be noticed, and not to learn. I have no one to blame but me. I set my expectations too high for one, and for another, I still want an easy road with little to no effort on my part. How spoiled I am! My list of excuses hasn’t changed, either. For instance, Randy is discussing how a Super Article placed on the internet for free can help get writers recognized and could even lead to a book deal. He used a lady’s book idea as an example. She’s a forensic scientist, and her book is about a forensic scientist who stumbles upon a serial killer. She has the expertise to back her up; and because of her background can create a super Super Article that will help other mystery novelists both write their books and increase their chances of publication. A win-win. What happens to those with no expertise to offer other than a vivid imagination and an ever-growing pile of unpublished (as yet) books? In Randy’s last entry, a gal named Valerie asked that question, and I had to echo her. I have nothing unique to offer that will gain any positive attention. Again, I’m searching for an easy way. However, just because I don’t have a degree in physics doesn’t mean I can’t write decent science fiction; or just because I’m no minister doesn’t mean I can’t write Christian fiction. At least I hope not, because then I’m screwed. Truth is, I need to work harder. I have so many articles and stories many have told me should be submitted, but they sit idle collecting computer dust. I have powerful tools available for market research, so I have no reason to think there’s no market for my writing, or I’m somehow unworthy. I need to grab hold of my dreams, stuff them in my back pocket, and get to work |
| That’s me the last week or so. I have neither the words or the will to write. Heck, I don’t even want to write this entry. Why, then do I write it? For no other reason than to let you know I’m still alive. That’s something. There is but one reason for this foul mood. I thought by writing about my grand news would relieve enough stress my eczema would calm down. Nope. It continues to worsen. Lucky me. Although grateful, I can’t fathom how my husband can stand to be near me. I can’t stand being near me. I feel, in one word, grotesque. I suppose if that’s all I have to complain about, I should consider myself lucky. That’s all I can manage today. Maybe as the week progresses I’ll walk out of this desert and have something interesting to say. Though my mood be foul, I plan on having a good day. I hope you do as well. |
| One thing I’ve found - and expected - with this my first pregnancy is not knowing what to expect. Confused? Me, too. Let’s see if I can rephrase. Never being pregnant before, I have no idea how my body will respond. I’m super-sensitive to every little twinge, flutter, pain, and ache. When something unusual happens inside, I think, “What’s that? What’s going on? Is that normal? Should I be concerned? Do I need to call my doctor?” Kind of annoying, really. I did have two little scares so far. I say so far, because I know I will experience many more. Yippee. The first one took place Tuesday morning. After I used the bathroom first thing, I moved to flush the toilet. I noticed floating in the middle was a small lump of pink with an equally pink cord attached. “Oh, no,” I whispered. Did I just have a miscarriage? I ran into the kitchen and retrieved a spoon. I didn't want to use my fingers lest I damage it further. I then fished out the thing to take a closer look. It was a lump of pink string with hair wrapped around it. How it got there, I have no idea! A big part of me knew it wasn't the baby. There was no blood and I felt no pain. Still, my relief went pretty deep at discovering it was only string. Then! At 2:15am Thursday morning, I again went to the bathroom and was struck with a terrible, sharp pain in my lower abdomen. I tried walking, sitting in my chair, laying down on the couch, but the only semi-comfortable position that didn’t make me want to either puke or cry in pain was lay balled up into a fetal position in bed. I came very close to waking up Dave and have him take me to the hospital. I didn’t, because in spite of the terrible pain, I remembered experiencing it before - when I ate an entire bag of prunes in one sitting. Yep, I had a severe case of gas. Within 45 minutes, the pain had subsided enough I fell back asleep. One thing’s for sure, I will never again eat 15 stalks of fresh, grilled asparagus for supper. But like with the Prune Incident, they were so yummy, I couldn't stop! Hmm. Makes me wonder if I should avoid going to the bathroom from now on. That’s where all the scary stuff happens. There’s always Depends! ============================================= I end this with some seriousness. Most of us look forward to Memorial Day weekend as a way to usher in the summer with barbeque’s and other outdoorsy fun. However, two people yesterday reminded me of what Memorial Day really means. When you are done here, please see David McClain ’s entry "Invalid Entry" . He mentions there a new gal who will be observing Memorial Day much differently than most of us. You should read it if you haven’t yet. I also wrote a piece several years ago about how I discovered the purpose of Memorial Day: "Remembering Memorial Day" . |
| I always say, “If I have nothing to worry about, something’s wrong.” In other words, I will find something to worry about, no matter how trivial, simply because I must have something to worry about. It’s in my nature. One line in the first Matrix movie describes this attitude perfectly. It’s been a while since I’ve seen the movie, so it will be paraphrased. Mr Smith described to Neo the first Matrix and why it failed, “We created the perfect world for you. There were no problems, no disease, no crime, no struggles. Humans simply couldn’t believe such a world possible, so they kept waking up. Entire crops were lost, and we had to start over.” Look at Americans in particular. Most of us want for nothing as far as simple living day to day is concerned. Still we moan when things don't go the way we expect, or we find some kind of crusade to fill our little ‘worry box’ with, no matter how trivial it seems to others. Compare that to people in third-world countries. They don’t care whether or not smoking will take 5-10 years off their life or the life of someone they love. They don’t have any idea what global warming is, let alone want to do something about it. They don’t care about the chemicals in their food; they just want to eat. They instead focus all their mental and physical energies on surviving the next day, and doing their best to help their family also survive the next day. You could easily say Americans are spoiled. True enough, but I think we also need to struggle. It’s what drives us to constantly better our circumstances. Because mankind has been struggling for thousands of years, it’s innate to our nature. No amount of prosperity will change that, both on an individual and societal level. I think that’s also why we have trouble imagining Heaven. There we will also not have to worry, struggle, fear disease, death or pain. Paradise. Still, I can’t wrap my mind around spending an eternity like that. In some ways it sounds boring. I do have a small vision of Heaven, though. I want to spend my eternity getting to know God and all of his creation, and I mean all of it. I want him to take me on a tour of his universe, from the largest of galaxies, to the smallest of creatures. It will take an eternity, I’m sure. Whether or not it will happen that way doesn’t matter. But it’s my vision, and in this life at least, I’m sticking to it. Do you have a vision of Heaven? If so, I’d love for you to describe it to me. |
| One thing I love about the written word: The ability to destroy it. Well, at least before anyone sees it, that is. When the ink is still fresh, the paper as yet uncrinkled with spilled coffee, or the file not saved on my computer, I can tear it up, burn it up, or wear out my delete key, and no one will ever be the wiser. In responding to people in emails or other types of letters, I can spend as much time as I need to choose my words carefully. I can even wait a day or two before I respond, especially when my emotional state is at best confused. I don’t always succeed, but the opportunity is always there. My emotions yesterday went all over the map - on Earth as well as on Mars. I had moments of shear joy, exhaustion, frustration, fear, giddiness – think of any emotion, and I likely felt it. Wee. Makes me wonder if this is but a taste of what’s to come over the next 8 months. I so feel sorry for my husband right now. He will take the brunt of it, I’m sure. I think I will hide away all the firearms, just in case he will want to shoot me – or me him! Lucky for you, I decide what to share and what not to. I can write what ever I want, and still not post it for all the world to see. That’s not to say I won’t toss some emotional grenades in your direction, though, so you might want to don body armor before entering my mental abode. Emotions are powerful things, and can blind us into saying and doing silly and even awful things. They whisper in our ear constant to convince us to follow them above all other considerations. Multiply that with a woman’s raging hormones. Scared, yet? I’m hoping my more rational side will be strong enough to endure it all. It’s not that I’m afraid of hurting anyone; I despise having to apologize for it. I’m kidding. I just want to warn you if my emotions seem erratic and I write something that’s offensive or hurtful, either ignore it or let me know I went to far. Be sure to say it nicely though. I might be armed. |
| Eczema. Though doctors can treat it with steroid creams, they have no idea what causes it, nor do they have a cure. They do, however know of two things that can cause it to flare up: Allergies. I discovered my eczema through an allergic reaction to Tide and other laundry detergents containing dyes and perfumes. I didn’t discover it was due to an allergy until I saw a Cheer Free commercial. The announcer asked, “Do your clothes bother you? Do you itch?” I thought, “Yes!” I gave Cheer Free a try, and two weeks after using it, my eczema cleared up. I had tolerated the rash for over a year, and was so wide-spread, I wore long-sleeve shirts and pants during the hottest days of the summer. I still have one patch on my left ankle that refuses to go away, but that I can handle. Most of the time. I often scratch that madness-inducing itch until my fingers come away bloody. I also break out once in a while on my elbows, and in the middle of my back (the one spot I can’t scratch without contortions, dang it). Those appear when I’m particularly stressed – another cause for eczema flare-ups. Stress is not good for the body or mind in any circumstance. We need to find ways to release it, otherwise the body rebels, often not in a good way. For me, as with most of you, I relieve much of my stress through writing. What happens, then, when I can’t write? You guessed it. Eczema flare ups. Right now, I itch all over. It’s not severe yet, but unless I do something about it, it’ll only get worse. I have two options: cover myself with steroid cream or write. That’s a no-brainer: writing. Not because it’s cheaper and requires no prescription, but I have to avoid steroid creams. It simply would not be healthy for someone who’s about 4 weeks pregnant. It may not harm the baby, but why take a chance? Some of you may have read that last paragraph twice to be certain I wrote what you think I wrote. I will write it again so you know I didn’t have some nasty finger-fart: I am about 4 weeks pregnant. I suspected for a while, but known for a week now, taking two EPT (Early Pregnancy Tests) and having a blood test done last Tuesday, all three resulting in positive. Dave and I decided a long time ago when I do get pregnant, we would tell no one until after the first trimester. Dave’s brother and his wife, who tried even harder to have children than we did, told everyone the moment they found out – twice – and each one resulted in miscarriage. I can only imagine how devastating it was, but to have to tell everyone only made it worse, I’m sure. Dave and I don’t want to go through that. Why, then, am I telling you now? Because I plain can’t hold it in! My body’s telling me I have to relieve this stress, so relieve it I must. Besides, if something does go wrong, I will only have to write it once here. My family and my other friends, though, will still have to wait. That’s tough, let me tell you! It’s on the edge of my tongue every time I talk with someone, especially one who I know will understand. I want to share all the little details of what my body is going through, my concerns, and my excitements. I also owe you an apology. I caused you to worry about me with my previous and super-cryptic entries. You were so thoughtful, and so caring, I simply could no longer let you think something terrible was going on. It bordered on cruel, and I’m sorry. I’m sure many of my subsequent entries will focus on this simultaneously exciting and frightening journey, though I promise to give you some variety. For you men out there, fret not. I will keep the gory details to a minimum! |
| “That is why I tell you not to worry about everyday life—whether you have enough food and drink, or enough clothes to wear. Isn’t life more than food, and your body more than clothing? Look at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren’t you far more valuable to him than they are? Can all your worries add a single moment to your life?” ~ Matthew 6:25-27 That says it all. Simple, concise, the meaning clear. I should not worry. Not only does it waste my time and energy, but could very well make me sick - perhaps even subtract moments of my life. But I do it anyway, day in, day out, moment by moment without end and without fail. Why? I have no control over what people do, think or feel, or what will happen two minutes from now let alone tomorrow, next week, or next year. Everything is in God’s hands. I need to remember he is in ultimate control, and has only my best interests at heart. Easy words, all of them. Difficult to practice. So how does one go about not worrying about the things we can’t – or even can – control? Any insight you have would be a great help. Thanks. Aside: My apologies for not reading and commenting in your blogs lately. My mind has been elsewhere – in case it’s not obvious from my last entries. Still, there’s even more going on, things I can’t even allude to that will prevent me from writing more entries as well as commenting in yours. If I can’t write what’s on my mind, better to write nothing at all. You will tell, I’m sure, that I’m being fraudulent if I try. Still, don’t worry about me (Ha!!). Everything is fine, or soon will be. I just have too much on my mind to be any good around here. Take care of yourselves and each other. I’ll be back as soon as I’m able. Love you. |
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