This will be short. (I hope.)
I'm currently in the US visiting with my sister and her family. We (Kate, Daddy, and I) flew over here to attend the funeral of my Grandmother. (A lot more on this much later.) Daddy flew home a week ago and Kate and I are flying back on Tuesday night.
So, things have been a bit crazy and since we couldn't get the wireless network running before my Computer Geek husband left, I have been left with limited computer time. (Unless I stay up until some ungodly hour of the morning.... which when you are mother to a 3 year old is a VERY bad idea.)
I'm ready to go home and yet I'm not. I hate feeling like I'm interrupting my sister's family life and I can't help feeling like I'm in the way. (Though she will assert that I'm not.) She has such a nice life and a nice house and then her crazy, chaotic sister arrives and flings stuff everywhere and suddenly she's left with a livingroom that looks as if a college party exploded in it.
As bad as I feel though... I love being here. I wish I would spend more time with more of the family, but I always procrastinate and I don't want to interrupt anyone. (There I go with that word again.) It's not like I'm the Queen making a Stateside visit. (Though by the way Kate is treated, you would think that she is a royal princess.)
Note to self: Write award winning novel and buy home and car in the States so that you don't feel like you are putting anyone out and you can visit people whenever you want and not feel bad for borrowing transportation. Scratch the award winning crap. Write novel that is best seller with mega movie rights. Make sure there are merchandising ops.
Well, I'm off to sleep on the sofa bed with Kate. At least she's getting over her cold and it feels a little less like I'm lying next to a recently fallen meteorite that is glowing hot from it's descent through the atmosphere. I'll be detailing the whole funeral thing later.
Sunday 1 April 2007
Thursday 8 March 2007
One Small Step
Well, I've done it.
I've joined the voiceless millions in creating a blog. I can now claim to be part of this culture of people who spew whatever is on their minds, shouting it from the rooftops of their computers as they hope that someoone, anyone really, will read it.
I'm not sure exactly how I'm going to use it yet. As part of the writer's journey, I should be writing something daily (something that I haven't done for well over a year) so I suppose that I could use it for that. Just random thoughts and the ideas that come to mind but serve to do the one thing that I don't do. Practice this craft of writing. No. I SHOULD say, "Practice MY craft." I guess I haven't quite come to grips with that.
What makes you a writer? Is it when you have published something? Is it when you actually get money for publishing? Or maybe when you make enough money to qualifiy yourself as having an actual income? Or is it when something in your head clicks and you know that the only time that you are truly happy or at peace or one with the universe is when you have been able to express yourself through written word or have an article being considered by an editor or have written a paragraph in the endless epic novel that haunts you even when you sleep?
Who knows? I certainly don't. I just know that I can and I don't. What is it? Lack of motivation? Fear of rejection? The judgement? The criticism? All of the above?
Oh, well. So, here I am with my first Blog entry. If no one reads it, I'm okay with that. If someone reads it. I'm okay with that, too. Just be prepared. You may see a lot of my family in here. Friends. Random people I see on the street. Probably some God and faith issues. I'll try not to complain about my husband too much. I will talk about my daughter a lot.
And I'll try to keep the whinging to a minimum. But don't count on it. If I can't whinge here, where can I whinge?
I've joined the voiceless millions in creating a blog. I can now claim to be part of this culture of people who spew whatever is on their minds, shouting it from the rooftops of their computers as they hope that someoone, anyone really, will read it.
I'm not sure exactly how I'm going to use it yet. As part of the writer's journey, I should be writing something daily (something that I haven't done for well over a year) so I suppose that I could use it for that. Just random thoughts and the ideas that come to mind but serve to do the one thing that I don't do. Practice this craft of writing. No. I SHOULD say, "Practice MY craft." I guess I haven't quite come to grips with that.
What makes you a writer? Is it when you have published something? Is it when you actually get money for publishing? Or maybe when you make enough money to qualifiy yourself as having an actual income? Or is it when something in your head clicks and you know that the only time that you are truly happy or at peace or one with the universe is when you have been able to express yourself through written word or have an article being considered by an editor or have written a paragraph in the endless epic novel that haunts you even when you sleep?
Who knows? I certainly don't. I just know that I can and I don't. What is it? Lack of motivation? Fear of rejection? The judgement? The criticism? All of the above?
Oh, well. So, here I am with my first Blog entry. If no one reads it, I'm okay with that. If someone reads it. I'm okay with that, too. Just be prepared. You may see a lot of my family in here. Friends. Random people I see on the street. Probably some God and faith issues. I'll try not to complain about my husband too much. I will talk about my daughter a lot.
And I'll try to keep the whinging to a minimum. But don't count on it. If I can't whinge here, where can I whinge?
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