My celebration dinner was good, except there was no wine.  I’ll remedy that tonight when I stop off at the wine and spirits shop on the way home–there’s one right across the street from one of the government offices, what does that tell you?–and continue the celebration here.

Except . . . I hope I’m not as bored as I was last night.  You go a long stretch writing and then suddenly–Boom!  There’s nothing to do.  You quickly find yourself wondering if there is anything you can do that isn’t writing related–and in my case, usually not.

"I shouldn't think about writing, and I'm not gonna write.  What should I do?  Get my nails done?  They're done.  Wait, I could write about my characters

“I shouldn’t think about writing, and I’m not gonna write. What should I do? Get my nails done? They’re done. Wait, I could write about my characters getting their nails done–no, no writing!”

Talk about a pain in the ass.  When most of your activities consist of the things you want to take time away from doing, it doesn’t leave you with a lot of option for things to do.

Then again, there’s my dreams to keep me busy, and they must have been making up for lost time, because it was strange.

Part of my crazy dreams were dealing with abandonment.  I remember coming home and everyone was gone–only this was like me coming home from high school and discovering I’d been left behind.  So then I went out in search of a lost TARDIS–no, really–and found a couple, but not the one I was looking for.  And then I ran into my fourth grade teacher–

My experience in fourth grade was not a pleasant one.  Back then they’d tell you I was “having problems”, but mostly I was a troubled child.  Nine going on ten, not able to make friends, and confused to all hell and gone about what I was.  I was ten when I saw my first psychologist, because even by then my parents realized I was a complete mess.  I only saw her for a few months, but that’s another story . . .

My fourth grade teacher was something of a mess, too.  She liked to yell at people.  She liked to make fun of me in the class whenever I’d do something “wrong”, like start speaking for no reason, or go off on subjects that no one else knew, because I was pretty smart.  Forth grade was when the bullying really started on me, and I remember her sending me to the school nurse a few times because I wouldn’t stop crying and she didn’t know what to do with me.  Then again, she also smacked the hell out of me on the playground one day because she said I was acting “goofy” and I needed to stop.

I see her in my dream last night, and she asks if I know her.  I told her I did, and that I had her in fourth grade.  And she tells me, yes, she is the person I remember, but no, she never had me in fourth grade.  In fact, she was happy she never had me in fourth grade, because from what she’d heard I was a complete pain in the ass.

And no matter how much I protest that I was in her class, she continues saying no.  Eventually she dismisses me and walks off with a wave of her hand.

I’ve had this dream a few times before, and for some reason it bothers me.  Can’t tell you why, but it does.  It’s not that I need some affirmation from her, because I don’t:  that period of my life is way long and gone.

I guess it’s the dismissive way in which I’m told, “I’m glad I didn’t have you.”

I better edit something tonight, because there’s no telling what might show up in my dreams later.

Slowing to Subluminal

Despite my complaints in yesterday’s post, I managed a little time at GenCon yesterday.  I didn’t get into anything, nor enter the dealer’s room, but just walking around, seeing people, interacting with friends–yeah, that did the trick.  I exited my semi-funk, when out with friends for dinner, did the human contact thing once more.

That, more than anything, put me in a great frame of mind, even if it did mean walking back to my car in the rain.  Hey, what’s a little wetness, huh?

This week I promised I’d take things easy.  I knew I might be busy, so I didn’t want to push things with a lot of extra work.  I’ve continued blogging, but I decided that, after finishing Diners, I’d go easy.  I might edit, or I might just read and leave the editing for next week.

Last night, and the night before, it’s been more reading and trying to relax, more than anything else.  I spent time catching up on some games–yeah, I’m a gamer, so I was reading supplements.  After that I’d play a game.  Maybe read a little more . . .

It didn’t take long to realize that I was bored.

There was even a point last night, about 9 PM, when I looked around and said, “What the hell am I gonna do?”  I’d decided to stay away from writing, but I realized that, for the last year, most of my evenings had been taken up with writing, and now . . . nothing.

No words on the screen in front of me.  No Scrivener.  No story.

I missed it all.

I didn’t pull out something to edit, though, but instead read some more.  But the notion hit me hard:  I’ve been writing for a long time, and when I’m not doing it, I notice it.  While I might be so tired that I don’t feel like doing it, I was still doing it.

That’s not there this week.  In it’s place there is a whole lot of nothing, and that nothing isn’t doing anything for me.  Not like back in the days when I was taking about 450mg of antidepressants and mood stabilizers.  Back then I could sit at the computer and just do little clicks on things here and there, and it wasn’t a problem.  Of course not:  I was zombied out then.

I’m not these days.

I have my creativity back, and there is the need to exercise it as much as possible.  Even if it’s just an edit, I need to do something.  I may bitch about the work, but it’s what I want.  There are tales to tell, and I need to tell them.

For a while now, I’ve felt like one of those ships in my stories, zipping along at FTL speeds.  I’ve now dropped out of hyper-light space, and I’m moving along at normal velocities–

It sucks.  I don’t like this.

It’s time to re-engage the hyperdrive.  Maybe not tonight, because I feel tonight’s drive home may be brutal, but tomorrow is another day, and I have things to do.

Set that course and get going, dude.  Because, before you know it, tomorrow is yesterday.

Hey, that sounds like a great title for a story!