officemonkey: field (Default)
I should have written this yesterday, but my body took the opportunity to remind me who's *really* in charge here and I was laid low for the day. One more in the series of learning to write by writing about my life. 

Yesterday was my brother's birthday. He would be 43 this year.

If I knew where the fuck he was.

See, around abouts 19 years ago, my brother went and did something monumentally stupid. What it was, not really important. It wasn't cruel, wasn't evil - just Stupid. Capital-S Stupid. Hold my beer Stupid. He got caught, got spooked at the prospect of going (back) to jail, and took to the road. Showed up at my place one night, had a really long and strange conversation with me about how he was concerned about *my* life choices, then just left. If I'd known at the time, I might have recognized the paranoid, disjointed beginnings of schizophrenia rooting themselves in his mind. I might have stopped him or called the cops or something. But I was also young and stupid, did not see such things - just a brother that was scared and bitching out on me when I needed him most. I never saw him again. 

Over the years my attitude towards the whole thing, towards him, has changed many times. I've been through denial, I've been through anger - a few times - bargaining, depression. Back to anger. Depression again. Little bit of bargaining just to shake things up. Took a short stop-over in "am i losing it? did he ever exist in the first place?" on my way back around to - you guessed it - anger. 

Wondering when I'll ever get to acceptance. If 

Wondering when I'll stop watching people on the street and wondering if that guy might look just enough like you to warrant going up and talking to him. Asking to see his shoulder. Checking for the tattoo - at least the one I know about. 

Wondering when I'll stop seeing this date on the calendar and idly googling his name, diving for clues about what might have happened. Drifting across missing persons and found corpses websites. Wondering when I'll finally get to "it happened, he was here, now he's not and I'm ok with that." 

No - fuck that. 

Hey, asshole. Yeah, you. Turn yourself in. Stop killing me slowly. Either walk into a police precinct and turn yourself in or finally float to the top of the river you got dumped in. Just - stop being nowhere. Be somewhere. 

I'll take the corpse if that's all I get. I'll take the dusty bones, the crushed leftovers of your life. Whatever there is, I'll take it. 

You owe me this much. 

You. 

Owe. 

Me. 

Fucking. 

Closure. 

Guh

Mar. 16th, 2017 03:34 pm
officemonkey: field (Default)
 I have discovered a new state of being. We will call it "guh". It's the noise my brain makes every time I try and figure out what I need to do next. Hey, should we go look at rental listings and call some places? We only have a month and a half left. GUH. What should we put on for dinner tonight? GUH. Should we just give up and potato on the couch until forever? GUH. 

This is what happens to my brain when I don't prioritize or I get super-focused on things that don't actually need that much of my attention. Get easily distracted, bouncing around too much at work. My brain is never where I need it to be when I need it to be there. As it seems to have a location problem, it makes the noise. GUH. 

Also, it seems like everyone in the house is determined to not let me have any quiet moments to myself. Even this one is happening entirely by accident and I'm not sure how long it's going to last. 

As for happy-writing-type things - I am way overdue on my next chapter for Anything Like Home. It's coming, just not in the order I wanted it to at first and not exactly the way I originally planned. But I think I've got something good going. So, I have goals and stuff - next chapter goes up this weekend. Also, the plot should be picking up in a chapter or two. That's what;s kind of chewing on my brain right now is my story is in desperate need of a bad guy and I really don't want to screw that up. 

For Fireflies - I will get the next chapter up before next weekend. It's been laid aside for awhile but I think I'm ready to dive back in that one, too. Just one more step into the story for now. 

And I have most of a second chapter done for Hopeless! I'm having fun with it. 

So, yeah. GUH. I've potatoed long enough and it is time to get my ass in gear again. Go do some adulting and then come back for some writing. Re-carve out a section of my day solely for ME since I seem to be surrounded by ppl that are not getting that it is something I need in order to remain healthy. 

 
officemonkey: field (Default)
A box.

It all got real with the appearance of a box.

So, I’ve been in this house for 8 years. Might not sound like a lot for most people, but for me it’s a very long time. We moved a lot when I was a kid, I moved a lot as a young adult, and things only seemed to slow down a bit when I got married. We stayed in that apartment for four years and that seemed like forever at the time.

When we moved in here, I was massively pregnant and had an almost two year old and a cat. Now, I have two eight year olds and a ten year old. They have gone to the same school their whole lives. The girls have only ever known this house as home. The cat died 11 months after we moved in.

This house has seen us through some pretty awesome stuff, and a bunch of awful bullshit. Mostly awful bullshit. For some reason, the edge of the living room window reminds me of when my husband had back surgery. For the first month, it was hard. I worked, looked after the babies, did pretty much everything - on top of caring for someone who’d just had their spine screwed back together. God, that whole winter sucked out loud. I can look into a corner of the ceiling in my room and remember every night I stared into that corner half the night, unable to sleep because I couldn’t figure out how to pay the bills that month. I see the ding on the corner in the upstairs hallway and remember wrestling our new bed up the stairs very much against its will. There are approximately eighteen places in the house where my daughter wrote her name with a sharpie. Every inch of this place is stuffed with memories.

How am I supposed to fit all this in a box?

I’m pretty mad at the owners and the property manager. I don’t think they were planning on telling us until much closer to the end of our lease, but the contractor they asked to come and do an estimate on kitchen renovation and new carpet spilled the beans when they called me to schedule a time.

I’m mad because I’ve had the World’s Shittiest Kitchen for 8 years and now they’re willing to re-do the whole thing. Right after they kick us out.

I got a copy of the move-in report to have in hand as we pack and clean. Eight years ago, the maintenance guy that did the walkthrough with me recommended that they replace the carpet and paint the damn walls but they didn’t.

We had shitty carpet eight years ago and now, because it’s in the lease, I have to pay a few hundred dollars to have the shitty carpet professionally cleaned. So they can rip it out after we leave.

I understand, as a reasonable adult, that we are likely being booted so they can sell the place. That makes sense. And they want to make the place nice to sell it. That also makes sense.

But it still hurts my feelings a little bit that we as faithful and good tenants didn’t warrant a better kitchen or new carpet. Makes me feel a little worthless, makes the bad shit we’ve had in the last 8 years feel that much heavier.

As a result, we got three months’ notice to find a new place. Three months is a long time, but for someone who didn’t want to move in the first place it’s not enough.

Three months to go through our possessions with a brutally honest eye and decide what’s getting packed and what’s getting tossed/donated/shot into space. We have sooooo much crap. I need to be organized, systematic. Do a little every day. Categorize, pack, label, record. I look around and I just get tired.

This is an opportunity. An opportunity to let go of extra, of unnecessary. An opportunity to start fresh in a new house. I don’t want to leave town and will do whatever I can to stay near. But even just a different neighborhood, a different set of ceiling corners to stare at, might shake things up.

Maybe I’m worth new paint and carpet to someone out there.

So, yeah, that box. None of it’s really sunk in, it all still feels a little bit like imagination or a bad dream. Even as I asked the admin people at my office to start setting aside empty boxes for me. Even as I spent my lunch break looking at listings - again.

Nothing felt real until someone brought me back an empty box. The first box for my move.

Shit, I really have to do this, don’t I?
officemonkey: field (Default)
 My brain has decided to supply me with an endless supply of pictures and zero words. Thanks, brain. 


Jerk. 
officemonkey: field (Default)
Realized I should probably make this a habit if I'm going to keep my brain together as far as writing goes. 
  1. So that Foster AU I was playing with is a few pages, mostly of descriptions, ideas and working stuff out in my head. I have two scenes sort of put together. Learning how to get things out now then come back and edit later is really helpful and I'm happier with what I see end up on paper. 
  2. Got another chapter done for Fireflies - it's short but it's in the headspace of a character that is kind of hard for me to write, so I limit how much I write from his perspective. It's an intensity level thing - it takes a lot of energy which is in short supply most days. 
  3. I'm still carrying ideas around in my head until I get a chance to write which doesn't work as well as one might think, considering I don't get a chance to write every day. I have my trusty notepad which is awesome for lots of things I need to remember as well but I keep forgetting its there when I come up with something I want to use for something I'm working on. 
  4. There is also a pair of socks I need to finish. I should finish those.
  5. Writing is quickly becoming part of a self-care thing as I keep waking up to days I don't necessarily want to be a part of the world. At least I got my meds refilled. Yay! Sometimes going to hang out in someone else's head is precisely what I need to do to get my own head together.  
officemonkey: field (Default)
Somebody remind me why I even bother in the first place.
officemonkey: field (Default)
Dipping my toe into another fandom sandbox - this one I've read a ton of fic from but this will be my first time writing. Bits and pieces may appear here at random and largely without warning or explanation. Be warned.
officemonkey: field (Default)
Any ideas on stopping my habit of self editing before a single word gets out? So far it's a constant game of "I don't care if you think it sounds stupid, you can fuck right off there, brain." I spend just as much time arguing with myself as I do writing.
officemonkey: field (Default)
I have the worst time letting go of my words. I think things over five times before the first word hits paper. It's painful. It hurts almost as much keeping them in as it does to try and work around this stupid block. Working on silencing the "you suck" voice on loop in my head. Just let go, silly. Sounds easy, huh? Yeah, not nearly as much as it sounds. gaaahhhhh. Get my words out - lolololol - this is really gonna hurt.
officemonkey: field (Default)
 Ideas bouncing around in my big stupid head:
  • More shorts for Glitter & Chaos - god, that is getting super fun to write. i am so lame. 
  • where am I going next with Fireflies? The next part coming up is in my head - I know where I want to go next, but I don't have a word of it down yet. Also really considering what I'm doing there with the plot - I have several sub-things that are happening - how do I keep the focus on one theme? Do I want to keep the focus on one theme? i need to spend some time with that so I can really bring out the point I'm trying to make. 
  • Thinking about branching out into another sandbox - I have an orphanage/foster AU that's been forming in the back of my head. 
  • keeping notes - get better about getting ideas out somewhere I can go back and look at them when I need ideas or a direction on what to do when I do find that elusive free time. 
  • I get my meds refilled next week. yay!!
officemonkey: field (Default)
I don't like to write in a busy room or in a room where people are prone to reading over my shoulder. If I think someone is paying attention I get really self-conscious and I can't work through a thought properly. I start tryng to write based on what I think they think I should be writing, not where I think the idea should go or even less so, properly listening to where the characters want me to take the idea. So, I find it necessary to find "alone time" in which to write, which isn't something that I can get easily right now. It starts to show after a while, too. I get anxious and touchy, because I haven't had any time inside my head recently. On top of that, when I finally do have a little slice of alone in which to do something, I freeze up. I forget how to get the idea out again and it gets stuck. Writing takes practice and so does getting over the fear of writing. 
officemonkey: field (Default)
This is coming from my current reading - I am very much loving the work of owlet over on AO3. Reading This You Protect - the aspect of this author's work that really draws me in is the voice - I struggle so much with finding the right voice for some characters and here this author has it Nailed. Down. Perfectly. Everything - the tempo, the vocabulary, the humor and observations - everything fits just perfectly inside this character's head. Also, I really appreciate a story that makes me accidentally giggle out loud. 

From this story: 

"Cat Eleanor stands up on her hind legs, balancing her front paws on his knees, and says hello in cat. Esther smiles.

“She wants you to pick her up.”

REFUSE

Higher likelihood of claw holes from picking up or not picking up.

DANGER

Eleanor makes holes in his kneecaps. He picks her up and drapes her on his shoulder, where she purrs into his neck and presses her cold, wet nose against his ear. Barnes learns that the area around his ear is extremely ticklish.

The mission imperative is a sound in the back of his mind a little like “eeeeeee.”"



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officemonkey: field (Default)
OK, so I'm just totally jumping in here - really new to this whole community and looking for ways to write more and about more things. So, kink, huh? Don't know if I really have a super-favorite - I'll read anything once. As for themes and whatnot that I like, I really dig on AU's in general - I like seeing characters and ideas thrown up against a new background. It's an interesting way to show different aspects of a character or relationship that you normally wouldn't get to see in the source material. As a tangent to this, I also have a soft spot for crossovers. I'm still really getting my feet wet and reading a whole bunch of different authors so I can't put up much in the way of recs. My current favorite is Bucky Barnes Has His Shit Together, as well as The Tender Things We Were Working On (both on AO3). 

One thing I am a super-sucker for is snuggling. Good snuggle scenes are the best thing. 

 
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