oceantheorem: (Solitaire)
I've been kinda flaily the last few days. I found a new author on teh intarwebs, and read a bunch of his articles, and came across one about how NaNoWriMo is terrible. Because most people fail, and then those people think they can't be writers.

Holy crap, I thought. That happened to me. That goddamn happened to me.

And I'd already been a bit flaily about work for... oh... a few years (ha! no, but really, the last two months have been kinda trying). What am I DOING? Do I want to keep doing lame lab tech benchwork for the rest of my life? I mean, sure, it's relatively easy, and I'm relatively good at it, but it's also pretty boring and not very meaningful. It's... honestly, it's not even paying very well. I want to be doing something more interesting, and more challenging, and something less... irrelevant?

I don't know what that "something" is. It's probably NOT writing.  It did take me a while to realize that one can "be a writer" without writing novels, and I still don't think I want to write novels (though maybe I'm wrong. I do want to revisit that last failed NaNo story and see if I can fix it now that I'm not trying to slavishly produce 1667 words every day. it had time travel AND pirates). But trying to create a blog or a large base of short stories or some other written body of work that would produce income also sounds pretty horrifying. And like a really good way to kill my passion for writing altogether.

So, I'm still pretty flaily about what I want to do with my career, but after a couple of days of intense thought, and several really good conversations with my spouse and my incredibly intelligent friends, I think I am going to start a blog. And write about non-traditional life choices - everything from sexuality to diet to childlessness. I set up a wordpress and I'll link over to it once I've got a few articles up. I have ideas for a bunch already, and I guess I'm sitting here writing this instead of over there writing those because I still kinda needed to give myself a pep talk telling me it's okay to do it. Even if it won't make money (I expect not to). Even if I don't keep up with it for five or ten or fifteen or two years (I... expect not to). At least I will be doing something creative, something I enjoy, something that will stretch my brain a little - and maybe something that will help other people think about the way they live their lives.
oceantheorem: (gg R pensive)
Thankfully, Jim will be coming home Friday. This is good, because I think otherwise I might explode.

This weekend (not including Friday), I...

drove to Ann Arbor, met a knitting friend, bought yarn, chatted for two hours, drove home, bought crickets for the chameleon, fed and watered the chameleon, took a nap for several hours, went to a cookie party with coworkers, watched a whole disk of West Wing, rented three movies and watched two of them, went for a run, did the dishes, cooked myself a nice dinner, wound 3000 yards of yarn into balls, knit a cowl for my mom's 50th birthday, played with the cat, wrote in my paper journal for the first time in 11 months, played Warcraft for the first time in 3 or 4 months, and got an absurd amount of sleep.

And that's not counting today. Today I got up, fed and watered the chameleon, played with the cat, went to the post office and mailed Mom's birthday present and the Traveling Scarf I've had since before Thanksgiving, went to work and worked a full 8 hours, dropped movies off at the movie rental place, bought more crickets for the chameleon, talked to Jim for a while, cooked dinner, had hour-long conversations with both my mom and my dad, watched a third movie, taught Claire that plastic bags are a lot of fun to play with, knit half a wristwarmer twice, chatted with several friends online, wrote this entry... it's not even my bedtime yet.

It feels like the days have twice as many hours in them. It occurs to me that maybe this much stuff happens in normal days, and they just seem faster because I'm not spending every moment waiting for Jim to come home...

Just for the record, Julie & Julia is not as good as it looks from the trailers and was only barely worth renting at all, Marley & Me is waaaaay better than it looks (I officially love that movie), and Twilight (the movie) really is as bad as everyone says, but I still maintain it's the writing and not the actual plot.
Just so we're clear.

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