1. My lover made love to me. He apologised for being clingy but he is missing me already as I am going away for Christmas.
I held him tight, and miss him today, when he must be home with his family.
2. I had four compliments yesterday dancing. Three telling me that what I was wearing was lovely (It was very simple black top and silky black slacks, and a white lacy top over that I'd picked up in a charity shop). And one compliment about my dancing.
3. Someone got badly injured last night dancing. Her partner smacked her hard in the nose with his elbow. She fell to the floor and began moaning in agony. Blood everywhere. It was terrible. So disturbing. But we have such a lovely group that one of the guys and his girlfriend took her to hospital in her car and sat with her till 3am. The poor man who did it apologised profusely and gave her his number to call to let him know how she was. Our teacher overheard this and said,
"that is the worse chat up technique I've ever heard!!!" At least it ligthened the mood and got her laughing again.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Monday, November 26, 2007
Dips and Curves
No idea why I named this entry that but my unconscious seemed to come to the fore there and I have decided to leave it as it is.
Have been on a rollercoaster of an emotional time. Firstly I experienced a sudden boredom with the man I adore. So much so that when I heard we couldn't see each other on Friday because his wife was back in town, I nearly whooped for joy. Surely something is wrong there? I remember a therapist noting once that he wondered if I entered into relationships just so that I could experience the wonderful feeling of liberation when I left them. It is the only thing I remember him saying that really seemed to jump out at me like a neon sign. Something about that is true I figure, though I don't like to admit it. I am no doubt doomed to be a very lonely old lady, it's the problem with a low boredom threshold. Anyway I had my Friday to myself and proceeded to jot down another 1000 words. Today another 1000. I am hellbent on finishing first draft by March and at the present rate I am well ahead of target. I can see the downward stretch. One major and difficult scene left, and then some tying up of some loose ends.
I have a character in my novel, who is not in much of it, no more than two or three chapters, but whose affect is to electrify the page. What I mean is she lives. She jumps out and demands attention. I wondered for several months what the point to her was. I didn't feel inclined to kill her off, or edit her out, she was too wonderful, but where oh where did she belong and why was she there at all? Well over the weekend it came to me. She is the truth teller of the story. Everyone else is sinking in wrong perspectives and she is the one who gets what is going on. I am very happy to have some answer to her existence. She has an authentic voice, and I am appreciating it.
At the weekend I saw my friend Dave. It is odd to have a lover who I see during the week days, and Dave who is a platonic friend who I seem to see when I don't see my M.M. I feel as though if I could only combine the two somehow I would have the perfect relationship. A man who desire, and a man I can talk to, really talk to about everything. Oh and one who is single would be nice. Why my life seems to split into these compartments I don't know. Anyway, I am beginnig to feel that things are about to change. Not sure how yet, I am just taking things day by day and not forcing anything. That and getting on with the novel.
Interestingly I have not been writing by hand in these last few weeks. All has been done on the computer. Not sure why this is but it seems to be going well.
Have been on a rollercoaster of an emotional time. Firstly I experienced a sudden boredom with the man I adore. So much so that when I heard we couldn't see each other on Friday because his wife was back in town, I nearly whooped for joy. Surely something is wrong there? I remember a therapist noting once that he wondered if I entered into relationships just so that I could experience the wonderful feeling of liberation when I left them. It is the only thing I remember him saying that really seemed to jump out at me like a neon sign. Something about that is true I figure, though I don't like to admit it. I am no doubt doomed to be a very lonely old lady, it's the problem with a low boredom threshold. Anyway I had my Friday to myself and proceeded to jot down another 1000 words. Today another 1000. I am hellbent on finishing first draft by March and at the present rate I am well ahead of target. I can see the downward stretch. One major and difficult scene left, and then some tying up of some loose ends.
I have a character in my novel, who is not in much of it, no more than two or three chapters, but whose affect is to electrify the page. What I mean is she lives. She jumps out and demands attention. I wondered for several months what the point to her was. I didn't feel inclined to kill her off, or edit her out, she was too wonderful, but where oh where did she belong and why was she there at all? Well over the weekend it came to me. She is the truth teller of the story. Everyone else is sinking in wrong perspectives and she is the one who gets what is going on. I am very happy to have some answer to her existence. She has an authentic voice, and I am appreciating it.
At the weekend I saw my friend Dave. It is odd to have a lover who I see during the week days, and Dave who is a platonic friend who I seem to see when I don't see my M.M. I feel as though if I could only combine the two somehow I would have the perfect relationship. A man who desire, and a man I can talk to, really talk to about everything. Oh and one who is single would be nice. Why my life seems to split into these compartments I don't know. Anyway, I am beginnig to feel that things are about to change. Not sure how yet, I am just taking things day by day and not forcing anything. That and getting on with the novel.
Interestingly I have not been writing by hand in these last few weeks. All has been done on the computer. Not sure why this is but it seems to be going well.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
breathing is fun
After the chest thing turned to bad asthma attack I took myself to the hospital (nothing like Holby City unfortunately) and got nebulised. Pumped full of steroids and home to antibiotics and hopefully a return to health. Feeling very weak and tired but I am breathing. It is a wonderful thing breathing and I greatly recommend it. We take it for granted far too much. And so I beg you, whoever is out there to take a few moments to give thanks to that unbelievable art. I am going to bake it a cake tomorrow and wish it good luck and many happy returns of the day. I even slept last night whereas the night before I sat up in bed monitoring the noble breath from midnight to seven am. Unable to believe it would do it without my attending to it.
Today, the man provided lunch and a nap in front of the news, and then left me to sleep. I was just about to do that when I thought I would click on to the novel, just to see where I'd got to. And guess what. I was hooked. Just tapped out another 1000 words and good words I think.
Reading the Signs has asked me to talk more about my writing and the process. And so I will. I try to write 15 minutes a day. I figure that even if that is torture I can just about commit to that, it keeps me at the coal face and it is easier the next day to be there ready to go on with the story. If for any reason, like illness or laziness I don't do that simple thing, then the next day it is more difficult. I have come out from the mine shaft, wandered around like mere mortals having coffee and chats and lunches etc, and I am out of sorts and out of the atmosphere of this other life, the characters and things going on in my novel. My characters are incredibly forgiving of this , but they shouldn't be. But at least they are still breathing (this seems to be a theme) when I get to them . They haven't given up the ghost on me and gone limp, or worse died by my absence. Will talk more of it all later.
For now. In with the breath and out with the out breath. Joy in simple pleasures
Today, the man provided lunch and a nap in front of the news, and then left me to sleep. I was just about to do that when I thought I would click on to the novel, just to see where I'd got to. And guess what. I was hooked. Just tapped out another 1000 words and good words I think.
Reading the Signs has asked me to talk more about my writing and the process. And so I will. I try to write 15 minutes a day. I figure that even if that is torture I can just about commit to that, it keeps me at the coal face and it is easier the next day to be there ready to go on with the story. If for any reason, like illness or laziness I don't do that simple thing, then the next day it is more difficult. I have come out from the mine shaft, wandered around like mere mortals having coffee and chats and lunches etc, and I am out of sorts and out of the atmosphere of this other life, the characters and things going on in my novel. My characters are incredibly forgiving of this , but they shouldn't be. But at least they are still breathing (this seems to be a theme) when I get to them . They haven't given up the ghost on me and gone limp, or worse died by my absence. Will talk more of it all later.
For now. In with the breath and out with the out breath. Joy in simple pleasures
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Darkly November
Hardly any energy today after this bloody cold and sore throat has returned so slept most of yesterday and today with a minor foray into local shops to find something that my daughter and I might fancy eating. She and I have been eating voraciously, not sure if out of boredom, or at the will of our anti bodies... but we need to eat!!!!
Saw briefly my darling one, who poped in yesterday, having been confined to the family home most of the last two weeks due to illlness, either his own or his families. We all share. Both our germs and our affections. Strange world.
A shift in the writing means I CAN for the first time see the novel's end. I have never wanted to impose a deadline on the novel, happy to write it forever, but having swopped chapters with a fellow writer, the urge to finish the first draft and then to chisel away at it, is strong. I hope to finish first draft by March. Let us see if that becomes a reality.
I am content with my life. I am luckier than most and am continual grateful. I find myself saying thank you even to inanimate objects. I am supremely grateful that I did not turn away from the man whose life I have entered, even though many would say I should have done. It is an odd feeling to be doing something that is 'wrong' in societies eyes, and feel in my heart how right it is. I do not want him to leave his wife, that reamains to this day, true. What I want is a few hours in the week where we can escape struggle and laugh together. Life is short.
Saw briefly my darling one, who poped in yesterday, having been confined to the family home most of the last two weeks due to illlness, either his own or his families. We all share. Both our germs and our affections. Strange world.
A shift in the writing means I CAN for the first time see the novel's end. I have never wanted to impose a deadline on the novel, happy to write it forever, but having swopped chapters with a fellow writer, the urge to finish the first draft and then to chisel away at it, is strong. I hope to finish first draft by March. Let us see if that becomes a reality.
I am content with my life. I am luckier than most and am continual grateful. I find myself saying thank you even to inanimate objects. I am supremely grateful that I did not turn away from the man whose life I have entered, even though many would say I should have done. It is an odd feeling to be doing something that is 'wrong' in societies eyes, and feel in my heart how right it is. I do not want him to leave his wife, that reamains to this day, true. What I want is a few hours in the week where we can escape struggle and laugh together. Life is short.
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