I’m better at making titles for blog posts, than writing them sometimes.
In my living room is the over-stayed sleepover of twin girls who just turned 14. These girls are genius at throwing together impromptu social gatherings. They take after their mother. It’s a good group of girls I am lucky. I was just musing about this with a fellow mother. These girls are having wholesome fun, singing and being silly. As a mental health counselor I am often privy to the darker sides of how some adolescents end up. I feel fortunate to have the resources that I do, and that my kids thus far for the most part make good choices.
We are leaving soon. I will pile all of them into my Jeep and take each to their respective location, then my girls and I will pick up a bottle of wine for dinner at our family friend’s house. She’s making chicken parmigiana from scratch. The girls will chase her little three year old around. We are always surrounded by opportunities to be with good people. Hard working people who have seen their share of suffering and yet continue forward with their lives; sustained by the warmth of friends and love ones. My heart is grateful.
Lately I’m surrounded by books, but can’t seem to settle on one from cover to cover. My ADHD forbids it. I wonder if it’s all that or something else? An invisible puppet string that somehow knows a plan for me. Is there a method to the madness, or is it all just madness and we make up stories about it as we go to feel better? Either way lately I vibrate with a restless energy that I can’t place words or a name to. I suppose when you solve such a large piece of the mystery it feels as if everything else might just settle in. That would be too easy I think. I spent most of my life trying to sort out this love and security thing, and now that I’ve earned my space in that land… now what?
The next natural step is my book, but life has not slowed for me to be looking out over the horizon yet. Perhaps it never will? Then how will writing happen? It’s so difficult for me to focus. I seem to need total privacy and silence, and also I can’t be distracted by not feeling well. These conditions seem to happen once a month, if not less. Like the full moon of my personal inside biology. Those are my windows to write, and everything else is a resulting irritability of seeking that space, after having delighted in its light. Sigh
With a house full of girls there is certainly no silence and I am not allowed to be irritated by this, because I must give thanks. If I think back actually I didn’t have this. I had one or two close friends, always the misfits, which made me look less a misfit (or maybe not). I have always been eclectic in my friendships. I want to know everything about every person. Their personality, their dark places, the things that excite them. People have always been my thing.
Victoria’s (twin B) fierce devotion to her friends is adorable. She always wants to buy them things. Her recent contribution being rings with a lightning bolt; since they like to watch the Flash. (I think that’s what it was). I am proud beyond words of her.
That’s the thing… how am I supposed to watch life as it is unfolding and pause enough to craft writing about it. I don’t want to miss out on either. I can always reflect on the past, but I can’t get back moments I miss when I’m lost in the creation of my art. Is that just an excuse? Fear wearing a costume?
Lindt Truffles came into my life as a brand new mother. Gifted them by a not so new mother. The dark blue ones (dark chocolate), since then my repertoire of them has expanded. They have stood by my side. Novels and Lindt Truffles are my poison and my savior. I’d be happy to surrender a thousand irreplaceable minutes to them.
Fiction or truth? Am I Stephen King-esque due to my wildly over active imagination? I am poetic and can create wonderfully when I am in the zone (in those rare moments), but can I put it all together into a coherent experience? That’s always the big fear. I want to write an experience… I want to create an experience for my reader, something that will leave them breathless with emotion. I feel unwilling to accept anything else…. and I may have to to begin…
Hmmm. Ok the troops are restless my window has expired.