2.14.19 - Poem

Sixty-six years from now

Sometimes
I worry
that I’ll run out of ideas
or new ways
to tell you how I love you
to make love to you
I’ll run out of words to say

On that day
I’ll die

Keep us alive
Love yourself, first
as I loved you
dancing on hardwood floors
kitchens and bars
under rain-soaked stars
in the backseat of our cars

Those days
We lived

Life with you
made the difference
between darkest night
and the sunniest day
Shimmering constellations held 
no beauty like the curves
of your infinite smile

Nothing will
Ever again. 

10.27.18 - Big Step

The first edited draft is out to reviewers! The rough draft ended at almost 200,000 words, far too many to ever be publishable. I managed to get the 1st draft down to 160,000 words, but that’s still at least 30,000 above my target so I have a long road to go. But with the help of my first reviewers and another draft, I believe might be able to have a query-able (if that’s a word) draft out by the new year.

Here’s hoping. In the meantime, I’m writing the first draft of a query letter. Talk about nerve wracking.

But, progress is progress and progress I’ll take!

6.23.18 - Blog Post #13

It's hard to remember what I've said before, so I apologize to myself if I'm repeating anything I said last time.  

I've taken to adding comments every time I add something new to the story, so i an see what progress I'm making.  Kind of a way of showing both accountability, and progress reminders so that I don't beat myself up too much.

Tonight I wrote about the past two day gap.  Mom had surgery on the 21th.  I took this image yesterday, at a low point when she was feeling really rough during recovery.

She kept thinking that it will never get better than this. She was worried that she will always feel this way, that this condition was her new normal. There were swelling issues, bladder issues, and she kept saying if this is how she's going to feel the rest of her life, what's the point? Like she won't physically be better. It was hard to convince her, to remind her that this is one day, things do get better. But she's had a fucking hard summer between her mother's cancer and her own...

We just got her discharged today.  The surgery was a bigger deal than maybe either of us realized.  She's in recovery, and the prognosis is positive.  They think they got all the cancer.  Still seems unreal.  I think I'm handling it well.  I've been here helping and will continue to be until she's able to drive and lift objects again.  Still feel helpless, like I'm not doing enough.  I try to be positive, and keep reminding her that it's worth it to get through, that this isn't the end of her life.  I told her she needs to plan things to do, bucket list things like buy herself a convertible, a cheap one.  Take a trip to Greece like she's always wanted.

I need to do the same things but I can't afford to yet... that's a spiral.  And really, I'm thinking one day I'm going to go bankrupt.  I don't know how long I'll be able to avoid it.  I have to pray that maybe, just maybe the book will sell.  

So I missed a day of writing.  And all the others I feel like I'm still not writing enough daily.

I'm afraid I'll go bankrupt before I finish this book.  I'm afraid I'll never finish.  I'm hoping that if I keep talking about my fears, they won't overcome me.

In the meantime, I'm going to do my best here in Birmingham.  Mom needs someone to drive and lift things for her for the next two weeks.  So I'll do what I can to get her back on her feet, try to write as much as I can, and spent two hours a day in the gym.  Not much has changed but the location and the loss of the bar and brothers for a few weeks.  Maybe this will help.  Maybe I just needed a changed of pace.  

Maybe I just needed a reason to not kill myself and for now, this is it.

I'm probably being overdramatic there.  There's no way I'd kill myself.  Too many people depend on me that actually matter.  Mom, David, Topher, Julia... those four people matter.  I'll live for them, write this book for them.  And if it's successful, I'll make it for many more people that meant something to me.  

I'm afraid I'll let them down.

5.28.18 - Blog Post #12

Memorial Day, 2018.

Tropical Storm Pool Day

I wrote a thing

(also not 100% sober so I apologize for the format)

This must be a bit of heaven
Swimming in the late May rain
College nostalgia loud on the radio
Waiting for the girls to come over
Waiting for the other shoe to drop
Waiting for our lives to finally start
Waiting ain't so bad if the company
Be as good as this brotherhood

and a dedication,

Thank you two.   When I'm gone, hopefully before you, you should know this was the best part of my life

I blame 2000's cookout rap radio, a lil' chill feeling, and the hope for memories to look back on in the next few weeks.

So it looks like I'll be spending the next month in Birmingham, taking care of my mother.  I'm not sure when I'll be back.  I'll be putting my life on hold and that's okay with me, because this is my mom and... to be real, I'm not doing much anyway.  

I mean sure I'm: working a career, in constant long term relationship negotiations with a lovely long distance blonde, working out two hours a day, finishing up the last wedding album before a likely month free of shooting, writing as much as I can (even leaving comments to myself marking the amount I'm doing each day)... going into debt buying a suit to go to a wedding where I looked good but felt nervous the whole time and debated leaving several times just because of my own anxiety... not teaching summer school after all, missing out on a 4 grand extra paycheck... 

So, it feels busy.  But why does it feel empty?

Look at that picture, tell me those aren't friends to treasure.  Look at the pictures of the blonde, and think about the last time you held each other and talked about the next time... one day... whenever that might be.  Look at the book, and think about all the things you want to accomplish and the dreams you want to live out.  Look at the progress you've made on your body.  Look at how willing you are to move to a city you don't know, where your already near-terminal social life will be put on complete life support.  Logically, it doesn't matter.  I probably will find a way to make my routine fit into this new set of needs.  Swap out eight hours of teaching for helping Mom whenever she needs it, look for opportunities to get to the gym, and write.  I won't be able to play video games or get in the pool.  I won't be able to sit on the couch, next to Loki and laughing along with David to a stupid movie like Sausage Party while Topher cooks brats and I joke about how it's all ironic since we're three bachelors on Memorial Day.  

I'm scared to leave them.  I'm scared I can't do this.  I'm scared I'll fail.  I'm scared Mom will die.  I'm scared about how I will spiral when she does, and how self-destructive I'll be.  I'm scared I'll get in trouble for the green supplements.  I hate that I'm so paranoid about it I can't even use the real name.  

I'm so paranoid lately, worried that something will happen to the boys.  Worried that the finances won't make it.  I know it's not being helped by what's going on with the mother and grandmother.  

I haven't spoken about it much.  Topher and David know.  Apparently by now everyone at work knows even though I only told three people going with me on a work-related trip I've had to cancel on.  Two dance friends know because they date each other and one overheard the phone conversation with mom last week.  Julia knows, because long-distance girl.  I haven't told a lot of people I've been debating on talking to about it... I think because talking about it means it's real.  Real means it's happening and I can't control the outcomes.  

Am I handling all this poorly?  

I need a therapist.  I need to see a cardiologist because of low blood pressure and iron deficiencies resulting in possible anemia.  I dont think I'm going to have the time until this is done.  I need a list of things to get done the day before I get called to go to Birmingham-

Update Gym Membership
Pack two bags - one with gym clothes, the other with rec clothes, both laptops.  
Take the BRZ - leave the keys for the Jeep
Take two shaker bottles
Hike the dog one last time before I go

If all goes well, I'll spend my days in Birmingham split between the gym, hospital/home recovery time with mom, and writing.  I'll flip through Bumble, consider going out to a blues night, if there's one there and mom's condition allows it... 

In my head, I apologize for my existence for everything.  Like I feel like I inconvenience everyone.  Insecurities galore.  

I figure, fake confidence until you make it right?  Build a body and hope you look good, it'll make you feel good.  Sure... that's the theory.

5.20.18 - Blog Post #11

Today was hard.

My autistic brother and I went to visit our octogenerian grandmother just diagnosed with Stage 4 Renal Cancer.  Our mother, who moved back home last year to repair that relationship between mother and daughter, let us know she's been diagnosed with Rectal Cancer.  We find out the stage of it Monday.

I believe we say things out into the universe hoping anyone will hear us.  People want to know they're heard, that they matter more than the atoms that make them.  Maybe it's the lost love we're hoping will be listening, or a deity to offer kindness, or a voice of hope, but we say things like the starting second and third sentence hoping it finds the right amount of probability and luck that helps save those we love.

Can I just say though, and maybe this won't be judged too harshly a decade from now when someone actually reads this:  My grandmother on her deathbed said some racist shit.  The Texas school shooting was on in the background.  She tried to blame it on the de-segregation of schools in the fifties: "We want to educate the blacks sure but it takes more than a generation to breed the violence out of them."  

Never-mind that the majority of all school shootings and gun death violence is at the hands of white men, but whatever, you're on your deathbed.  I didn't know how to respond.  It's been a fucked up day, leading to all kinds of bourbon-drunk anxiety that I can't manage right now.  

I just want to write a book that gets published and marry a girl that loves me; and have my mother live long enough to be proud of both events.