Feels more like New Years Day today than it does in January, so I'm running with it. 36 doesn't seem signficant as a number, but revolutions of the spirit can arrive anytime of the lifespan that they want to. Not that there's a revolution of the spirit going on here.
Not that there ISN'T a revolution of the spirit going on here.
Cooking along with my writing this morning, and remembered: if God won't give me a family, writing has to be the priority. It doesn't have to be a priority because I can't help myself but write, but because I was given this gift for a reason and seemed to have treated it like a disease I live with instead of turning it into something that is a vital part of me that gets better with use. A little more gratitude, Jo. Have some thankfulness.
Instead of writing stories, or poems, or essays, or anything of length for the last three months, I write a screenplay of my life in a smattering of Twitters and Facebook statuses. The Twitters will continue, but I think it would be best to take a break from Facebook statuses and just write blog entries. I feel the need for length and depth. One line is nice if I were witty like some others, or busy with stuff one should be proud of (like another birthday :), but a writer's Facebook should be about what I found to read, what I found to write, and pictures of things I saw along the way. I still have a widget on my phone that lets me see the statuses of others, from election coverage to soft drink spills to early (or late?) celebrations of Groundhog Day...I can still stay in tune with others. Status of friends once a day? Check. Their pictures and changes once a week? Check. :)
I won't have much to say on status changes here for a little while anyway--I'm writing, exploring Golden Gate Park, and reading. It's approaching winter and the rainy season in the City: Jo lays up a supply of tea and oatmeal and soups and listens to music/watches movies/reads books that she missed trudging all over the sunsplashed Bay Area while the sun was out. I have stacks of books in my room from pre-Kindle days, and they deserve attention. I have short stories dawning in me like stars, and I have a hankering to be hydrated.
That and I want to figure out how to work this damn BlackBerry so that it's no longer my enemy but another quill to write with.
Just a little shift...a domino moved out of the line of fire to another line of dominoes.
I have a nasty habit--I get on line and think "Now, what do I gotta check/read/search for?" A list of the tasks that would have been in my brain mere moments before, while the POS Hewlett Packard takes its sweet time waking up the gerbil in its motherboard suddenly disappears and the list becomes thin air and there I am. "Why the hell did I boot this thing up?" I go through the shut down sequence and then remember.
So stuff that I want to focus on has been placed on my iGoogle and then I make a list of stuff on my phone to search for, etc., when I have a moment. Take time and look for things later, all at once, in its own space. And I do get to it. I like the internet too much not to. And the iGoogle gives me focus as an added bonus.
The Ratlike Scorpio
No, I'm not referring to the guy sleeping on the timeclock in the warehouse...I was born in the year of the Rat, and for a few more months it's still my year. For a few more days it's still my sign. And the new year begins astrologically. :)
Thanks for a great birthday, dear reader. Many happy returns.