Twenty-One Days Out

So, 23,407 words later, I am no closer to knowing whether what I’m writing for NaNoWriMo is science fiction or literary fiction. But there is still something in there to write, and I am still able to find time to cram in little pieces of it every single day, so that’s something. Okay, I’ll admit that it is something miraculous, considering the hours that I have been working lately — but honestly, my spending more hours working than I should be is nothing new, so I won’t dwell on it.

I have not been spending enough hours studying. I need to get back into that habit before I look up and discover I have weeks’ worth of stuff to do at the last minute. The dedicated study hour between 8:00 – 9:00 each evening has been eroded by, oh, lots of things. Most often, it has been due to our starting dinner late (because of work), which means we eat dinner late, and kitchen clean up is late, and if there is a 9:00 PM deployment scheduled for work, I can forget about studying at all that night.

But I said I wouldn’t dwell on that.

I could try shifting my study time to the mornings before everyone in the household gets up. This, of course, would require me to get up at the same earlier hour every day, which I could easily manage if I went to bed every night by ten like I was doing so good with until a series of escalating events made it more likely that I go to bed by one than ten, and my tiny stupid brain remembered that one a.m. used to be my regular bedtime and was okay with that even when the rest of me very much Was Not.

I owe my advisor a return call. I should probably tell him that I’m fighting with this. It … alright, understand that I still find it weird to have an academic advisor that I feel I can talk to. I spent years taking classes at some institutions without interacting with any beyond getting a random person’s stamp on my course schedule.

Speaking of being up past my bedtime, it’s after midnight, and I can’t blame work at all for my being awake (I did work earlier today), so I’m going to bed.

Tomorrow is another chance to do better, right?

In the morning, I’ll probably read this post, shake my head, and tell myself that I at least succeeded in blogging twice in one month!

Twenty-Nine Days’ Sort

Clearly I need to do NaNoWriMo this year and get this sorted. Maybe whatever dogs we wind up getting will agree.

– Me, just last month.

We do not have any dogs yet, though we have met several in the past month, as we’ve been settling in here while trying to untangle ourselves from the other house.   If all things go well, we’ll be out before the end of this month. Considering that we spent three hours today at the old house trying to reconnect a dryer vent that had mysteriously come undone between our move and the time the buyer had it inspected … yeah, it’s been like that.

Fortunately, that should all be squared away tomorrow.  One positive outcome of this move is that we’ve begun to be more realistic about what we can accomplish ourselves in the time we have available.  We fought with the dryer vent for three hours.  We swore at it.  We lost blood to it.  We gave up and called in a professional.

Speaking of sorting things, yes, I did sign up for NaNoWriMo this year.  Thanks to work and school and all of the other things I do in and around work and school (e.g. parenting, laundry, gardening, sleep), I won’t have a lot of time for it, but  I think I can do some damage within those chunks of time, as long as I manage to keep them out of the same daily soup bowl as everything else.

Will I fight with this for thirty — er twenty-nine days?  Will I swear at it?  Will I lose blood to it, and eventually give up?

Maybe.    Or maybe not.

Let’s find out, shall we?

I’m tackling a completely new project, rather than trying to make sense out of any of my old ones.  I can’t make up my mind whether it is science fiction, or dog help us all, literary fiction, so I’ll just write until it sorts itself out.

Place and Perspective

Along the tumbleweed way
I met someone like me.
He drives, sometimes.
Other times, I do.
For now, our son sits in the back,
Eats raspberries,
And sings along with the radio. 

 Next year, we may all be from here,
And if not, then, well, maybe the year after. 

– excerpt from “I’m from everywhere, man…”, a mandatory  ‘introduce yourself to your fellow classmates in the form of a poem’ assignment, circa 2013ish.

Place and Privilege was the original title of this blog post, but it sounded too much like a  Jane Austen reboot.

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