A locked door

The last few weeks have been a bit crazy. Illness in the family, trying to get the details of my book submitted for publishing etc. Then last week I received news that my best friend’s high school boyfriend had been accidentally killed. It was a shock we could have never been prepared for and my heart hurt for my friend. It hurt for his family and it hurt for him.  He was still young and handsome, a great elementary teacher and so loved by so many. It had been years since we had seen him but it took me back to being sixteen and spending the whole summer at his house. My friend had many firsts with him and I had a few firsts with his brother. shh.

Doors to our past close as we walk into our future, sometimes we can return and visit for short times. When I found out about his death I heard that particular door lock. Sometimes we can’t return, all that’s left is to look ahead.

New blog is up!

Hey everyone please follow my new page in addition to this one.
http://www.threewitchesinasmalltown.wordpress.com

Thanks!

Drunken house cleaning as a last resort

Whew what a morning. I usually love Sundays and days spent with my husband. He’s in a funky mood this morning and said just the perfect thing to piss me off.  I know he didn’t mean what he said to be taken quite the way I took it though. Maybe I was just looking for an excuse to be angry, I don’t know. I get moody on the solstices and he gets weird. Just an observation.

I have a hell of a temper but it usually takes a lot to get me mad. I’m guessing PMS has arrived early. I’ve tried a hot bath, good music and cleaning to chill myself out and so far no good. I haven’t said anything to him but no doubt he can tell, I try not to overreact and make things worse. That’s why I’m bitching to you all. If this doesn’t work I’m hitting the chartreuse.

I still have tons to do around the house before everyone comes over for Christmas and then I invited some friends over for dinner Tuesday night because I’m crazy lol. But I always manage to get everything done in the nick of time. So all will be ok. I was just really wanting a fun day today, watching tv, laughing, wrapping presents, maybe sex. Alas I guess I’ll get drunk and clean the house.

On the upside I did start writing my new novel and I’m excited about how it’s going. I just need time to work on it more. I keep telling myself “after the holidays”. And dammit it will happen.

Ah innocence, I’m so glad you are gone

I’m a terrible sick person. I bitch and whine constantly when I’m sick. I have an awesome pain tolerance but a scratchy throat and stuffy nose turns me into the biggest bitch ever. Blah, throw in a messy house, Christmas decorations and a funeral I have to attend and I pretty much just want someone to knock me the hell out until I’m better. Luckily, I only seem to get a cold once or twice a year. But I have one right now and if I make it through it without committing a crime or having a nervous breakdown it will be a miracle. I see people all the time go about their lives while sick and I can’t comprehend it. My life stops when I am sick, I have no choice. There is no pushing through it when you pass out every time you stand up. I do have a mild heart condition and it was explained to me that stress and illness hit me considerably harder than your average person. That’s why I try to stay fit, unfortunately that’s also tricky, because too much physical exertion taxes my heart and makes me get sick. So combine too much exercise, stress, and allergens this week and I was a neon sign screaming “GERMS WELCOME!”.  Seriously though fuck being sick.

Anyway I found some of my work from my first attempt at a novel. It was only the first three pages, the rest of it was accidentally destroyed years ago (I was devastated). I wrote it when I was seventeen. The first paragraph didn’t suck… the rest did. It’s amazing how much I’ve changed in eleven years. I thought I was so badass and experienced. Looking at my writing it was plain to see how little I knew about everything. My innocence is not something I miss, but it’s amusing to remember.

You are never too old for imaginary friends.

The holiday craziness got to me! Cleaning, cooking and lots of visiting with family and friends has worn me out  but I enjoyed it immensely. So if you have commented or sent me anything and I haven’t responded I’m terribly sorry and I’ll get back with you today.

I have characters in my head yelling at me to write their stories and no time to do so. It looks like I’ll be having some late nights or early mornings this week. I’ve been thinking a lot about my characters lately. They are my friends, yes, they are a part of me as well but they don’t “feel” like me. They feel like people I’ve just met, cousins I grew up with, the girl that works at the local coffee shop that I talk to every day.  I never feel like I’m creating them, I feel like I’m getting to know them or have known them all my life. With my characters I’m never lonely. When I was a child I always had tons of imaginary friends, even when I was old enough to know they were imaginary. It never bothered me though, they still felt real, still kept me company when I was alone, and sometimes even when I was with my flesh and blood friends I wished I was with the ones only I knew about.  Every time I start a new story I get excited to meet new friends.