Two days in a row, up and at 'em early after weeks of late nights and late mornings and nothing productive happening in my writing life. I just read over some of my last blog posts and I can sure see how moody I've been and how likely I am to stay that way if I don't find a way to stop thinking about Stephen. And yet I don't want to stop thinking about Stephen.
A few days ago on Sunday I spent the entire day weeping. When I wasn't actually crying and sobbing, my eyes were wet. All day long! I stayed home and spent the day in the back bedroom, his old room, reading the first of a five book series from the creators of The Dragonriders of Pern. When the going gets tough, the tough hop a dragon and fly to Pern until the trouble blows over. I'm also watching the TV series, Downton Abbey, from the beginning. Another great place to escape to.
Then Sue Stubbe's puppy got sick on Monday and she kept me up all night with her worries. I asked Keith to take her to the vet and he did, bless his heart. That bill is $174 and I'll have to pay it. Sue may or may not ever pay me back, but I assume she'll at least make payments. I would feel bad for her but I happen to know that she's an impulse spender, buying clothes that cost too much and then she can't wear them. So after keeping me up all night and texting me constant updates early Tuesday morning, I spent another whole day in the back bedroom reading and napping.
I've taken to turning the ringer off on my phone. Mostly when it rings, it's a marketing recording so I don't answer it anyway. My friends know to leave a message or I can see I missed them with the caller ID and call them back. I simply don't want to talk on the phone anymore these days. I'm spending less time on Facebook and I'm withdrawing more and more into my own little world. This is really a first for me --- always before, I've had a job to go to or family to take care of that has kept me engaged with life outside myself. The only thing that takes me out is the fact that my studio is a few miles away and since I pay for it, I feel like I should go over there sometimes. And it really is lovely over there, very comfortable. Not as comfortable as here at home but then I at least have a reason to get out of here sometimes. Or I invent reasons. If I want to.
I've been listening to a memoir by Billy Crystal, Still Foolin' 'Em, and it's organized by age. Which makes perfect sense in Billy's life, since he's talking about his career and how it developed. It's a nice memoir, funny and detailed, nothing horrible happens to him, his kids are happy and well adjusted, none of them take to drugs or jump off buildings. They go to college and get married. They have babies and he gets to be a Grandpa. He and his wife love each other and support each other and they stay married. How very nice for him. All of that, even without the great career, makes him a mensch in my eyes. He feels like a real person and I've always liked that about him.
As for me, I'm still browsing through time trying to find out what it all means. I write stuff down but still haven't found a thread to hang on to. I will though, I intend to keep at it for as long as it takes. there's no race here, only time and memories. Yesterday I started a little project that seems kind of fun --- the story of Rocky, my little cat. He's such a character and I have so many photos of him and his story is interesting, what with his rocky start in life and all those birth defects. Who knows, if I can get it written up and put on Amazon, he could inspire others to rise above their challenges. Maybe even me.
The Lives and Loves of
Rocky Pestorini
The Miracle Cat from Idaho
I started calling him Mr Pestorini when he began trying to stop me from putting on my shoes. He also follows me around begging for attention sometimes and I can't figure out what in the world he really wants, so I pick him up and cradle him like a baby and sometimes he likes it, most times not. He's very involved with me and loves to be near. He was a great vocabulary. The other day I stuck my head out the back door and saw him curled up on one of the metal chairs by the fence and I told him I was going to take a nap and asked him if he wanted to take a nap with me. He looked at me for a few seconds, then got up, stretched and sauntered across the yard and into the house. I ring the tuna bell in the evenings and that never fails to bring him and my other cat, Milo, in for the night. I like to think I have the smartest, most well-trained cats on the block. They are certainly the funniest.
So my idea is to write Rocky's story to the best of my ability as a way to weasel into writing memoir before I have to write the really painful stuff. I can practice with his story and it will be fine, no crying or depression. He is, after all, still alive and pestering me daily. No heartbreak there yet.
OK, that's it for today for the blog journaling. I've been writing in the spirals the last few weeks instead of in here but only because the laptop was on the desk in my room and that spot is so not a comfortable place to write. As much as I want to write at the studio, it's not as comfortable as here in this chair at home with my vid-fire and my soft music on YouTube and my cats curled up nearby, content to have me here with them. I am their life and you know what? They are my life, too.
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