I sit at my kitchen table with orange tulips and iced café con leche. I am writing but it all sounds so boring. I read my manuscript and it seems immature. The poetry lost. Sometimes my writing is crap and I gotta deal with it.
I went on a hike yesterday. Walked through the Oakland hills filled with patches of forget-me-nots. The small creek actually had water. We had to jump over it. It was narrow not hard to jump but my stepdaughter was impressed that I was still able to do it. I was as well. My belly is getting bigger. I rub cocoa butter on it hoping that I won’t get any stretch marks. I read that I should sleep on my left side and only turn slowly when I must move. Slowly is the only way I can move. I’ve developed carpal tunnel but I refuse to stop writing and just wake up with pain once in awhile. It hurts, severely, but I don’t mind it right now because it is a reminder of the days of my life that I haven’t had to feel pain. I am grateful.
My life has changed so drastically, I am still getting used to it. I am trying to figure out how to spend my days keeping up with the apt, taking naps and writing. At night I make school lunches and go to sleep by 9:30pm. My body aches to be on the dance floor but it is always past my bedtime. I miss NYC daytime parties with really good djs in the park. I am trying to learn how to play the conga which is probably not the best idea when I have carpal tunnel but I have the time and the patience right now.
Perhaps now I can go back to my crappy writing and make it better. I feel like starting over again. There are stories that i write over and over, they make me cry but I still write them. I dream with them and wake up feeling them. It’s hard to write about my life because I don’t want everything exposed so I don’t write enough and then I have to remind myself that I don’t have to please anyone. I see why people love fiction so much there is part of the writer in it even if it’s not the whole truth. When I finally got around to finishing my play it was in a moment that I just let myself be crazy. I let that weird side of me come out that showed that I spent lots of time alone as kid imagining a life beyond my own. I need to do that again. There are movies that play in my head. I am not in them I just narrate the story.