Would That I Might

Another evening writing session.  I am finding it hard to get into a morning rhythm with things as they are right now.  It has been a bit strange getting used to my Mother's new apartment, which I expected.  It was never going to be an easy adjustment, but knowing it was going to be difficult hasn't made it that much easier.

It does not work and cannot be made  any better.  There is nothing to help that, not any longer. I know that. This is how things are. I know it,  just as I know that isn't alright. I can't be fine with it this way. There is no solution.

It's the first full day in New York and I am struggling with things.  I don't really feel like getting into all the details because a lot of it is just me needing to adjust to things, though there are aspects of the situation that I feel are more difficult than just accepting the changes.  I am doing my best to take care of myself, but it has been a challenge.

How were the brownies? I want to know, not just to be told they were good, that I did well, though I hope so, would be glad of that were the answer, But do not worry or feel obligated to say kind things: if they were terrible I want to be told. It was a new recipe and I did not try one, had no chance to. I want to know how they were: it is a recipe I had never tried before.

As we have been travelling, I have taken to writing in the evening again.  It is largely just practical in terms of having the time and focus.  Now we have landed in NYC for a few days, so maybe I will be able to coax myself back into a morning routine.  I do want to switch back more permanently when I arrive home again, but on the road it can be more difficult 

It is this now We are here, will be here, not too long but long enough it might feel too long. It is fine, I will say and want to believe.

Melissa and I are in Richmond for the night.  The drive was pretty uneventful, though we had a bit of a mixup with our hotel reservation.   Fortunately it all worked out in the end, but there was a point when that felt rather unlikely.

There was a problem it has been resolved, now, but there was a problem. It distracted me. I was not thinking about my obligations, about any of it. I had other matters  needing my attention. As I said, it is fine, it just distracted me. If not for that, I think, I would have remembered.

Melissa and I are in South Carolina tonight.  I had intended to try and get my writing done earlier but my morning was a bit screwy for a number of reasons, the most significant being that I got out up late.  I was confused because the room was still so dark, but that was just the blackout curtains.  

It works, anyhow It is broken but not so broken it won't work at all. It is just more difficult, is work to make it work, but it can be done.

Melissa and I are slated to head out today.  We are planning to stop in St. Augustine for the night, so it isn't a particularly long drive for today.  In any event, I am not really prepared for the trip, in either an emotional or a physical sense.  I still have packing to do and all of that, but more, I am feeling quite anxious about the whole thing.  I want to shift my attitude, though, as I want to try and have the drive up be pleasant, at least, if only for Melissa.

I am uncertain and it concerns me. I don't know what to expect or how it will be, though I have fears, can imagine  what is to come and do not like what I imagine. It makes it difficult to motivate myself.

Melissa and I are heading out tomorrow on a short trip up to NYC for my cousin's sons bar mitzvah.  I am a bit stressed about the trip, to be honest.  It is the first time we will be staying at my Mother's new apartment in Manhattan and I don't expect that I will be very comfortable there, both because of the emotions around the situation and because of the apartment itself.  That is not even including the fact that Mom and I haven't really been getting along, so I don't know what it will be like staying with her at the moment.  I am hoping that at least we will have a pleasant time driving up.

I am holding a bit of hope but I do not know that I trust it very much. The odds are not obvious, but time is short and there are few chances left. I am hoping, still, but it is only a small hope. I don't think of it as what will happen, just what I want that, maybe, could.

I had to drag myself up to my office to do work this morning, which is not ideal, but I do think the real issue is the pressure to write a story.  I've got to accept that I am not always ready for that first thing in the morning.  It's not so difficult for me to do the rest of the writing, but the fiction can trip me up.  I just need to give myself a bit of slack around that, I suppose, but I still want to do so in a way that lets me continue to focus on developing my skills around fiction.  Not certain how best to do that at the moment, but I can work on those details.

I am not ready for us to go I do not feel prepared or in the right mood. It snuck up on me. I knew it was coming but my sense of time is never good, never helps me to be ready when time comes. I know we must go, am not fighting that, am not even wishing I could. I just want to warn you that I am struggling.

It is morning and I am finishing up my writing for the day.  If I am honest, I had to fight myself to get to work.  A lot of it is anxiety around the fiction, but I am not certain what to do about that.  I want to keep working on my fiction writing, I just need to find a way to make it a bit easier in some ways.  I'm not really sure how to do that but I think a large part is going to be just accepting that I am still learning and not expecting it to always go well.  At the moment I am struggling with coming up with story ideas each morning and that is putting a lot of stress into the mix.  I need to remove the pressure to perform and maybe that stress will begin to go away.

We told you before but you did not listen or you forgot, maybe, and now you are annoyed that you weren't informed and we can't argue because you don't believe me that we said anything, that we had a whole conversation, discussed our plans in detail so you would know  when there was still time. But you don't recall that. I can't help but think it is convenient for you, considering the way you always want to think the worst  of our intentions.

I am writing in the evening today, but it is not the same thing again.  This morning I woke up and went to work, but I didn't get all of my writing done.  I had some appointments and did not get back to my desk until after dinner tonight.  The point is, though, I did not abandon my practice this morning.  I feel quite positive about it, to be honest, and I think the work I did today was quite good.  It may be that when I give myself more freedom within the structure of my practice it works out well for me.

I should have told that guy off told him what I thought, but you do not like it when I get involved in your fights, but I felt bad standing there and being quiet when I agreed with you and was prepared to tell him off myself. I wanted to, really. I think I wanted to for my own sake as much as anything else. But I was quiet and now I regret it, though I suspect it was better for me to be quiet and avoid an escalation.

As I have discussed before, I am feeling pretty overwhelmed lately, and that has caused me a lot of stress which seems to be impacting the consistency of my writing routine.  I have to cut myself some slack, I suppose, so I am concentrating on just making certain I do the work and less on the specifics of what I am writing at the moment.  I'm still trying to concentrate on fiction and poetry at the moment, but I am being very broad in how I define those concepts, especially fiction. 

I said that but did I mean it or was it just easier than any other answer? Even I am not certain. I want to think I was being truthful, that it is my intention to do as I said I would. But I still feel the pull of desire, or, rather, it is an aversion, an opposing desire, a wish not to do what I have promised will be done.

It is morning and I am here writing, and I need to celebrate that in and of itself, beyond thinking about whatever it is that I wrote and whether it conforms to the ideal of what I want to be writing.  I am finding it difficult to write fiction at the moment, and I think a part of that is just a mental block.  To be honest, I have an idea for a story in my head that I think I can make work, but I've been hesitant to actually start writing it for some reason.  It is a mental block, as I said, and I think the best thing I can do is just to support myself right now and focus on keeping my routine in tact.

There is much to do and I am not doing it Some of it should be easy, should take nothing but making the effort to do it, that is all, but I am not ready or not capable right now, am drained and weak and not prepared for the simplest tasks. So many things seem impossibly broken, even if this or that is repaired it does not feel like enough.

I had to fight myself to get to work this morning.  In the end, I did get myself to write, but it concerns me that it took this much effort.  A lot of it is because I am still struggling with fiction at the moment.  I suppose the best thing I can do is prioritize the writing in general and take a bit of pressure off myself in terms of the flash fiction.  I have to think of how I might do that, as I am not certain right now.

A part of me hopes it doesn't go well though I know that is cruel and I only mean it a bit, really, but I am mad enough and not so good a person that I don't imagine  things going wrong for you. I suppose it is not what I want, not what I really want. I just wish you understood my feelings and I imagine things going wrong for you might help with that, give you perspective, let you experience a different side of things. I can admit that is juvenile and would not work, and really, it is not even true. It is just a desire for it to go wrong and for you to have to deal with that. It is that petty, but as I said it is only a part of me that feels that way. The rest is more generous, or maybe just less honest.

I almost didn't write today.  I expressed my fears around that yesterday, and today I didn't write in the morning then let myself slack off on it through most of the day.  I do not know exactly what it is that caused the problem other than the fact that I am just feeling a general sense of being overwhelmed and kind of stressed about things.  Family stuff has been pretty rough and I am worried about my relationship with my mother right now.  I am sure all of that adds to it.  It can be difficult to muster up the energy for creativity, I guess.  That is one advantage of a strong routine, I've found, which is why I want to get myself back to it in the morning.

Perspectives diverge You think it is one thing and I think it is another and that should be fine, used to be fine, was nothing, was just the way it was, with us being two people and not the same in all ways, not observing all the same details or considering them in the same contexts or as having the same meanings. It did not matter, or it did not matter but in ways  that were good and about being different in ways that were not a problem, were a positive, and now we are far apart and noticing only what is not shared. I know it has changed and why and how. I was there for all of it. I do not have any questions about what went wrong, only confusion and a wish it could be fixed that feels like it can only be a wish. That is how it feels now. It did not feel that way before. Maybe that means there is hope that it can change again.

I got out of bed early and went straight to work.  I was tempted, once again, to just leave it and get to it later, but I didn't let myself off.  It was not the most productive writing session I have had and I don't think the piece of flash fiction I wrote is anything of great merit, but I know the importance of having a regular practice, at least for myself, and I think that has to be a priority right now.  It concerns me that I have been having so much internal resistance to my writing routine in the past few days.

I am mad, too Mad at the way things went, at how  everyone behaved. I do not dismiss anyone from that. I am not saying that anyone was right, and all I want is to know you can say that too, can accept your own role, but you will tell me it was nothing you did, will deny it without considering that it might not be the truth of things. You have declared yourself the victim, have decided you are correct and anything that contradicts that is just cruelty, is an attack.  I know that is what you want to think. It makes you feel better, I suppose to call yourself the innocent one, but it is destroying our relationship. I wish I thought you would care about that.

Yet again I waited to do my work, and, yet again, I feel like it resulted in my writing a story that I wouldn't have been able to put together earlier.  Maybe I would have still gotten to that same story, but would have written it tomorrow instead, but I am not certain.  I think I need to spend more time percolating.  I am certain that I can figure out how to do that in a way that maintains the morning writing practice I've been developing.

I feel bad that I waited and now you are there and I am here and I am being oblivious, or acting as if I am being oblivious since I do know you are here but I need to do  what I am doing, need to finish. I should have done it earlier but that didn't happen. I feel bad about that even without feeling as if I am ignoring you. I should finish so I can stop and go downstairs.

I got up and went to work this morning, but it was a little bit of a struggle to get myself to follow that plan.  I have to admit that.  As I said yesterday, disrupting my schedule makes it harder for me.  When it is the same thing that I do each morning, I don't fight it so much, but the moment I start messing with that, it becomes much more difficult for me to stick with it.  I feel like it is important that I plan to get to work early again tomorrow.  I need to resteady myself, I think.  I am concerned (scared) about my practice eroding.  It took me a long time to get to a place where I am able to write each day and I don't want to let that go.

Your responsibility is not a question You took action and there are results, repercussions.  You changed things and that is the cause. It is not your intent but it is the result. You will claim it is not that way, that I am blaming you for what you don't control, and I understand, but this is all a response, and it was obvious this would happen. You could have known. I could have said this is what would happen. It was obvious. You say you are innocent because it was nothing that you chose,  but you chose.  It happened and you say you did not choose it, did not intend  this to be the outcome. It is like turning a glass all the way over to look at the bottom and claiming the spill is nothing to do with your actions.

I wound up waiting to write again today, which worked out fine, as I didn't have much planned.  I was just doing stuff around the house, and I knew that Melissa was taking the car and would be busy most of the afternoon, so I didn't have to worry I wouldn't have a chance to get it done.  The thing that is interesting is that both last time and today the waiting actually gave me a chance to let an idea percolate a little and I think it resulted in my writing stories that I might not have otherwise.  I have to believe that it isn't actually necessary for me to blow through a deadline for that to happen, really, that I can engage that process in a more directed way, but the fact that it happened both times does give me some sense that I can push myself in that way and get the results I am hoping for.

It is this again and that is fine, I think, though it is upsetting. I don't like it being this way, even though I did everything, made it happen, am the only one involved, made the decisions that led to this. I am responsible. I can admit that, or, maybe it is more true that I can't deny it, that it is too obvious. It does not help but it is still good, I think, even if admitting fault does nothing  to alleviate the problem. I wish, at least knowing that I did it, knowing what happened and the choices I made, felt as if it were protective, but I'll do it again, I think.

I woke up this morning with no desire to do my writing.  In part, I think it is because I let myself slack off a bit in the morning yesterday, and a part of my mind wants to try and get away with that again.  It is one of the reasons why a dedicated practice is so important to me: I know I could easily stray into idleness.  That is why I write each day at the same general time, why I make it a kind of daily ritual for myself.  Even after just one day's disruption from that schedule, I am already fighting that demon, procrastination.  I'm glad to say that I won, that I did my work and am now finishing up by writing this blog entry.  I am hopeful that, having followed through today, it will be easier again tomorrow.

I want it to be different and am willing to work for that, am willing to do  what is needed to change things, but I can't change them, or can't do it if it is only me, and it is not possible to fight against your refusals. You won't allow change, won't let anything be different even if it would be better. You only want what you are accustomed to, or maybe that is the wrong description. You refuse any kind of change, though, that is the truth and you don't deny it, have said it, have been direct. I can't fault you for that.  You are honest. But you are honest about wanting it to be this way even when you know I am suffering because of how things are right now.

I am posting this rather late in the day, at least in relation to my recent habits.  This morning was busy and I decided to wait and do my work a bit later, which actually worked out quite well for me in this case, as it gave my mind a chance to percolate on some ideas and I came up with a piece of flash fiction that I rather like.  It involves snails.  I find that a great many of my stories involve animals, often in strange roles.  In this story's case, the snails are causing a nuisance by smoking cigarettes.  It is not a very long or complicated story, to be honest, but I appreciate the playfulness of it, if nothing else.  Mostly, I am just glad to have been inspired with an idea for a story.  A lot of the time, in recent days, my flash-fiction has mostly been micro-memoir with a slight veneer, which is fine, it just isn't what I prefer to be doing at the moment.

I was quiet until it was time but I was not asleep. I was just quiet and waiting. I was waiting and being supportive, or readying myself to be supportive. I knew it would be needed.  I guessed it would be needed.  You  do not find it easy.  I know that. I waited and was there. I wanted to be ready. I wanted to be there. It was why. I did not change, it was only different in that I stayed instead of going forward. I waited and was there. Most days that is nothing you would need. I think it may even be you are happier to have the time alone, and that is fine, but today, I knew it was different.

Yesterday was a really unpleasant day.  I had a big fight with my mother that actually was about things with my brother, and I tend to think she was probably shoving herself into the middle of things that she really shouldn't be involving herself in.  I am feeling pretty raw at the moment and am not entirely certain what I am going to do.  Really, I should probably be talking with my brother, but I am still quite upset with him about things.  We have talked several times recently, but I have been distant in those conversations.  I am afraid that if I don't keep my walls up, he will take it as a sign that things are fine or that it is alright for things to be this way, that I am accepting his response to recent events as reasonable.  I suppose I mean that I don't want to normalize the current situation.  I don't really feel like talking with him about things at the moment, though.  I just don't believe it will be productive or positive, but I think that I have to.

I need to but don't want to and am not certain I am ready or willing or that I will be fine if I do it, and not certain I can be alright if I don't. Either way seems bad and there isn't a third option, or if there is it is worse and not better. I suppose that might be liberating, in a way, the knowledge that anything is the same  in that way, but it doesn't help with the sense of being overwhelmed.

It has already been a rather busy morning.  I spent a long while working on a recording for the next podcast episode even before I started writing.  To be honest, it has me thrown off a bit at the moment.  I am used to do my writing first, before I get to anything else, but I knew I had to do the recording today.  To be honest, I should have gotten it done before this, but I've not been feeling up to it.  Even today, I was still not really feeling entirely ready, but I knew it couldn't really want much longer so I pushed through.  It may just be that I am drained from all of that.  

What has happened  that I am not standing against this, am not making it clear where the boundary needs to remain a boundary. I am allowing my own defeat, am agreeing too much, am not strong right now, am not rested. It is not right, though. I know it is no good for me.  I just do not have the energy to explain or argue. I wish it felt as if you could understand my perspective without that, as it stands I find it hard thinking of you as on my side. I feel an opposition exists between us, that we are in conflict.  I know you don't realize that because you see it all from that only one viewpoint which you are willing to call correct.

 I am still playing around with ideas for a new novel.  There are a number of subplots that are floating around in my head, a few of which are rather well-developed, along with other ideas that feel less fully formed at this point.  I'm also starting to get a stronger sense of the overall structure.  I'm still not entirely certain about the primary plot, although I have a strong premise for it and some sense of the general shape it will have to take.  I'm trying to discuss it without getting into the details because one of my big fears is that telling the story and its details before I start writing will relieve the tension I am feeling around it.  I have a strong desire to share this, and if the outlet I will allow myself for that is the actual act writing of it into a novel, that serves me, but I know that can be derailed if I talk too much about just what is in the story.  However, talking around it without including those specifics, that can help to build up the energy,

This is the way it has been and the way it will be and I know that, I know it is not changing. It is this way.  I know. I am not unaware. I realize the situation and all that contributes. There are reasons. It cannot just change, cannot be different. It is the way things are. I understand that. It is clear enough. But it being this way is not a reason to pretend it is good. Things are not alright. I won't pretend it is fine just because I know it can't change.

I've got a bunch of ideas that are swirling about in the back of my imagination and threatening to become a novel.  To be honest, I've been contemplating start on something for a bit, and I think it is coalescing.  At the moment, there is a lot of disparate stuff, but I know it is all swirling around some kind of center, even if I am not certain about that yet.  I do have a sense of the way that I want the piece to begin, at least in terms of the form and a general idea of the content for that first section, though it is still fairly broad and I think I need to determine the structure and plot for the whole piece before I can really begin.

I just want evidence that it can be, but what is there to prove what is possible except the possibility itself coming to fruition. But still, I can't keep trying and hoping and waiting without knowing. If it cannot be this is all a waste and I am letting it rule me, am being destroyed or having my life eaten away. I can't have it be that I am putting it all in on what won't ever work out. I need to know it is possible. I am told to keep going, to try and wait and hope. But that is not enough. I am not alright with giving up, of course, but futility is no good, either.

I am feeling quite low right at the moment.  Things have me overwhelmed, as I have said before, and I am not doing all that well at coping with it or dealing with things.  I don't really have any way that I can think of to make it better or easier right at the moment, and there are a lot of things that require my attention, things that I know will be unpleasant to deal with and which I just don't feel like I am equipped for right now.  Of course, I don't have a choice about whether they need to be dealt with, and dealt with right away, as well.

You admire the commitment but I am frustrated with myself for it.  Am not alright with making the effort, with continuing to be so dedicated, when there is nothing, no result, or none that are what I need, what I am seeking. It matters to me. I feel stupid wasting all this for nothing, trying and trying, and knowing it is not enough, is not going to help. I recognize  that.  Do not tell me the commitment and the effort must be the reward. That makes it worse. If the only thing is the effort itself, I wish I had never started. It is no good. I can't stop. To stop would destroy me. But so will continuing without reward for the effort.

Yesterday was a very long day, and I am expecting today will be long as well, though maybe not quite as long.  Melissa and I were conscripted into working at a charity sale for the Morikami Museum And Gardens this weekend and it is a lot of work.  We had to be there yesterday around eight in the morning, and stayed until around five in the evening when the museum closes.  On top of all that, we had tickets for theater last night, so we couldn't just go home and get some rest.  Today, at least, we don't have to arrive quite as early, since most of the setup is already done.  I am hoping it will be a little easier, and, depending on the weather, it may even be that we decided to close up before the end of the day.  At least we are raising money for a good cause.  I gather we have been doing pretty well on that front.

Maybe there will be time despite my slowness, my choice to wait before beginning. I hesitated, was slow and tired and not ready, so I waited a bit, which was good, I think, was right and a good choice to make. It was self-care, I think. That seems a good term for it. I made the choice to prioritize my own needs. And now, I think it will be fine, that I will still be done when I need to be, that I will still have time, even, for other things.  I intended to have time for other things. That was part  of starting earlier. Maybe it will all be fine at least this once.

I often struggle with my fiction writing.  The problem is usually to do with finding a focus for the story, a situation from which it can grow.  I don't really believe that is the actual problem, if I am honest, I think it is just the particular way it manifests.  I tend to think that the actual issue of what to write about is never the real problem, that it is more about confidence or some other internal factor.  The thing is, the plot and premise and all of that are the easiest part.  I am always finding ideas for stories.  Ideas are the easy part, as I have said before.  I think that it may be a matter of my making myself write more than one piece of fiction each morning.  Writing more might help me to push through that initial uncertain phase, the way that it did with poetry.  I have to think about it a bit more as I don't feel ready to go there yet, but I also realize it might be something where I just need to push myself before I feel prepared.

Obligation I am not certain of what good it is going to be for us to do this, if it is anything, if any good will come. I feel forced and I don't like that. I would prefer to feel motivatied by positive desires. I know you understand and I worry about your resentments, about if you are upset, too. I am certain you are. It is right for you to be, but what can I do to alleviate that? We are both trapped, but it was a trap set for me that you fell into by association. How can I not feel guilty?

We are getting ready to start publishing some of my short fiction on sub-stack.  At the moment, I think there will be around one piece of fiction posted per a week, in addition to the other stuff that has been going up, which is mostly, I think, poetry so far.  I am a bit nervous about it, really, as I've not really focused on my fiction very much in the past.   I've never put my fiction out there this way, and I am a bit surprised to find myself feeling this kind of vulnerability around that, as I have been sharing my poetry so long and I wouldn't expect it to feel all that different.  I think, really, it is just a reflection of my fears and insecurities around writing fiction in general.

She asked and I will go I will make certain  that what she wants is ready and waiting for her.  It is easy, is not a great effort, but it is what she wants, so I suppose I am lucky that it isn't more of a challenge, though it might be nice to have an opportunity to do something more impressive. I am certain there are other things which she would be glad for me to do, but this time I know what it is she wants.

I woke up at around a quarter to five this morning, but I didn't get myself out of bed at that point.  I tried to go back to sleep, and I probably did get a few more minutes of rest, but I think it was probably a mistake, if I am honest.  I think that I might be better off if I had gotten up at five instead and gotten through my work early, and then I could always go and take a nap later, anyhow.  The problem is that trying to sleep for that last few hours was not pleasant and leaves me with the feeling of having tossed and turned in bed for a long while, even if most of the night was more peaceful than that.  Beyond that, I've heard that when you wake naturally like that, it is usually easier to transition into being fully up, that it is following a natural process towards wakefulness.  That might just be bunk, of course.

Yes, I am procrastinating It must be done and I should get to it and now is a time  when I could do that, when it would be possible for me to focus and do the thing, but I am tired or just feeling lazy is maybe more true, not in the right space is the way I can put it that might mean something valuable for communication to those who are waiting on the other side. I know it requires a certain energy that I don't feel. I do not know when I feel it, really. Things are so bad and upsetting and I am not certain of what to do to put that aside. I know it was no good when I tried before and it was the same then. I need to find a way outside of this or it won't work, but it may not happen and I don't know how to change that. I wish I was not afraid about that being a problem. It is another bit of stress that makes this so difficult.