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under the burning sky
Aug. 18th, 2015 01:30 pmThe overwhelming sense of anxiety and terror and misery seemed a little bit out of left field, until I remembered it was August. That the 17th was probably the day my father died, though I didn't find out until the 26th when the police went to his apartment.
I hated August long before this happened. It's the worst time of year. The burning season reaches its peak, with pitiless blue skies empty of clouds and the ground burnt gold. The early summer was so wet and easy, and it hasn't been that bad overall this year. But it always feels so hard. The hours and hours it takes for the sun to sink make me feel like I'm dying, like I want to claw myself to pieces.
This year I mitigated it a bit with my trip to DC, and for the past week I've had several friends staying here. (Today I accidentally drove to their hotel instead of the gym, even though they've been gone for days.) It is always a joy to have friends around, take them to eat at my favorite spots and sit around watching videos. Stacy graciously let us use her wonderful pool, and everyone was really over the moon about pool + Alamo Drafthouse + Elysium that day. We ate cupcakes, we swam, we went to the most raucous Taylor Swift singalong, I dragged them along dirty 6th and over to Red River for some dancing.
It is the most wonderful thing in the world, to be at ease with people.
It is no wonder my number one fiction trope forever and ever amen is found families. I feel so disconnected from what "traditional family" is supposed to be and mean. But in my friends, I have a home.
So we go on, carrying our scars and doing our thing.
I've been writing for the past year pretty solidly, to the tune of something like 243,419 words across a few dozen short stories. It's been very good to me. I keep thinking I should try to publish something, but the prospect of submitting anywhere is rather daunting. I know I should suck it up and do the thing. I'm not sure I have the stamina to do the self publish route because I'm not very good at self promotion. I don't know. The whole thing seems overwhelming. Mostly I concentrate on trying to become a better writer.
Back to the gym, after a week of being off. I must work back up to being able to do 250 crunches. Currently at 120. Today I lifted some heavy things, did a little of that cardio. I feel better when I drag myself out to do this.
Does anyone ever answer their phone when it is an unrecognized number? I don't.
Some days I wonder what I'm doing with my life.
I hated August long before this happened. It's the worst time of year. The burning season reaches its peak, with pitiless blue skies empty of clouds and the ground burnt gold. The early summer was so wet and easy, and it hasn't been that bad overall this year. But it always feels so hard. The hours and hours it takes for the sun to sink make me feel like I'm dying, like I want to claw myself to pieces.
This year I mitigated it a bit with my trip to DC, and for the past week I've had several friends staying here. (Today I accidentally drove to their hotel instead of the gym, even though they've been gone for days.) It is always a joy to have friends around, take them to eat at my favorite spots and sit around watching videos. Stacy graciously let us use her wonderful pool, and everyone was really over the moon about pool + Alamo Drafthouse + Elysium that day. We ate cupcakes, we swam, we went to the most raucous Taylor Swift singalong, I dragged them along dirty 6th and over to Red River for some dancing.
It is the most wonderful thing in the world, to be at ease with people.
It is no wonder my number one fiction trope forever and ever amen is found families. I feel so disconnected from what "traditional family" is supposed to be and mean. But in my friends, I have a home.
So we go on, carrying our scars and doing our thing.
I've been writing for the past year pretty solidly, to the tune of something like 243,419 words across a few dozen short stories. It's been very good to me. I keep thinking I should try to publish something, but the prospect of submitting anywhere is rather daunting. I know I should suck it up and do the thing. I'm not sure I have the stamina to do the self publish route because I'm not very good at self promotion. I don't know. The whole thing seems overwhelming. Mostly I concentrate on trying to become a better writer.
Back to the gym, after a week of being off. I must work back up to being able to do 250 crunches. Currently at 120. Today I lifted some heavy things, did a little of that cardio. I feel better when I drag myself out to do this.
Does anyone ever answer their phone when it is an unrecognized number? I don't.
Some days I wonder what I'm doing with my life.