Reflection from April 28th, 2012 @ Age 30
RE: BOOK MONTH ;0)
I’m finding it really difficult to get focused lately. I’ve gotten a lot done this week but you know how it always goes for me, push, push push! Always pushing for more!
Anyways, not a big deal, I’m in a good place, got a killer query put together, needs some editing to tighten it up and solidify the idea, but it’s all there to work with so it shouldn’t be too much more labor left. So long as I don’t keep getting lost in the words; that happens so much more often than I’d care to admit.
I can barely type today, not sure what the lack of focus is coming from necessarily. I think I’m just…tired, maybe anxious? I don’t know…maybe I just needed to sleep in. Well anyways, I did, so now it’s time to get back to work. I’ve just one really quick thing…
I was all excited I printed out 1/24/08 for Adam to read so I could finally give him a good sense of the theme for Cultivating Beauty. Then when he got home, we got into a fight and we worked through, talked through most of it and then I told him I was excited because I had found this entry that he could read and get a good idea of the whole overall idea for the book (since he still has no idea what it’s all about, besides mental illness).
But he said he’d rather not, he just wants to wait until it’s all done, and mostly because, he said, he would feel a lot of pressure to say what he thinks and he doesn’t want to do that because he doesn’t want that to happen and affect my focus, which really makes a lot of sense and I appreciate it very much. And I agree, too. But it was still disappointing.
We had this disagreement; basically I think what I’ve already reiterated before, about how he wants to be like everybody else, and how I want to be me, which is different. And blah, blah, blah in basically in more words (less to the point), it came down to this:
If it happens that the circumstances arise just so, I might have to make a choice between our relationship and being a writer. And I don’t even want to write more because all of this nonsense being who I am supposed to be. But when it comes down to it, to put it briefly, who I am, is a writer. And if it comes down to it and I cannot be free to be who I am within this relationship, then I will no longer be in this relationship. But where that would leave me, I know would be a scary place. Or at least I would presume, from here.
I think about if this book works out, honestly, either way, whether it does or does not, I just have no idea what is about to happen in my life. So I have to finish is all, that’s what Adam and my conversation came down to, that’s what work stuff with Paul has come down to, and that’s what I’m going to get back here to do…
But it’s just funny how I find myself in this position, again? I’m not even sure. Except you know, that I am. I am in transition and about to move into the next phase in my life. It will happen, it’s on the brink, and I am preparing myself. It will change my life forever and I don’t know what that means, I don’t know what will happen and I don’t know what it will look like then. But what I do know, is that it is what I must be doing, and so then, it is what I am doing. I am being me.
I guess there was just one more thing that bothered me I wanted to recur. Adam received a paper card in the mail, i.e. in the US mail, from his mother. And I said “that’s nice, she doesn’t usually send mail” and he said, “yeah it was” and I said, “what was it for,” and he gave me some real vague answer and I was like, “I don’t know what that means. What does that mean?” And he wouldn’t tell me.
So anyways, we had that blowout and I called my mom and he called his and told her everything. Or, at least that’s what he said; what exactly constitutes “everything” I haven’t a clue. All I do know is that when they came to drop off Dietrich last Sunday, she did not mention anything about my writing a book, having this bipolar illness, nothing regarding the “everything” that I do know was a part to their conversation.
And then he gets this card in the mail and he can’t even think up enough words to give me some vaguely true but obtuse answer regarding what she said; just, nothing. I would be lying if I said I didn’t believe it had something to do with me and all this whatever that’s going on. I want to just say ‘what a stupid bitch’, and then not worry about it. And I guess “worry” isn’t really what I am, so much as angry that she really hasn’t liked me from the start, that I don’t know what her fucking problem is, and that it’s really no wonder why I have had such a difficult time all this time trying to find even an ounce of respect for her as far as her actual character goes, or something to that effect.
I’m sure that sounds mean and I’m well aware of what I’m supposed to be doing and being and saying, but I don’t fucking care anymore; at least not in my writing I don’t. I think she looks at me and it reminds her of what she should be, in terms of being a decent, good human being. And yes, she’s nice enough, blah, blah, blah. But I know who she is, what she is, and that’s a fucking coward to which I cannot offer up any respect. I can be compassionate and understanding and that sort of thing, but when it comes down to it, she is capable, and yet, she chooses not.
She does not give back, she’s totally judgmental, she’s selfish and self centered, she doesn’t challenge herself to learn and/or grow; all she does is sit in her little fucking house thinking her little fucking thoughts through her little fucking view upon which her entire perspective of this world is predicated. It’s sad, really, to me. I suppose I can, I am capable of understanding why she is who she is and why she does what she does. And she can do that, she can be that, but I’ll be damned if I feign respect for someone like that, whomever the hell it may be.
She did an amazing thing in a sense, taking care of Adam, the challenging endeavor that must have been with his illness and all. I am aware that I have no idea at all what that must have been like, how it would effect a person or really any idea at all about any of that sort of thing. So I am aware, then, that I am in no position to judge. But yet, I cannot sit back and not form some type of conclusion, namely that she has the potential to be so much more than she’d being right now, she has so much to give, because of this very experience with raising a child with CF, being a mother to a child with CF, giving hope to others in her position.
And yet, she chooses not to give back all of that invaluable goodness, for what reasons why I presume I will likely never know (and in all fairness, don’t really care to either). And really, then, there’s just no respect in that. And she knows it. And I remind her of it, and she doesn’t like it. And so she does not like me either, and this is, simply, just what it is.
And so there you have it, that’s my schpeel for the day. And in closing one final thought to relate back, which I had forgotten earlier but now do remember:
I do not know what is going to happen with my life, come following the two very short weeks of book month that remain. But still, amidst all of that unknown, there is one thing I am sure of, and that thing is this:
Whatever it is that happens, whatever my life turns into, I bet you to hell and back that I’ll write one helluva book about it. ;0)
And so, then now, I will bid you adieu…
Back I go on working to finish up my Beauty.
Alright, back to it soon, I worked for a good 2-3 hours and then broke to hang with Adam and D and then I tried to at least somewhat attempt to get a handle on my budget, but honestly, it’s going to take a little bit of time and I’m just not interested in the moment. I just sent Adam what I owed him and fixed it up as much as possible real quick.
Anyways, I was thinking, I was thinking about a lot of things. It’s really uncanny, amazing really, reading through this 2008 material. It’s so fucking beautiful and I cry and I can’t even believe it’s real, you know? I am so, so, so incredibly thankful that I sat down and wrote it all, because I’ve never read anything as beautiful as the words that I’d written. Really, through all those years too; not all the entries are amazing and all, but man, some are just the most fucking beautiful fucking things I’ve ever seen in my entire goddamn life. It’s breaks my heart with happiness. Sometimes, I can’t even believe that I’m me.
So yes, then there was another original point too, but I think I’ll leave it at that. ;0) Not much else is too important right now anyway…
Back I go!!!
Honeslty, the process of creating CB is like living in a constant state of ubiquity and it’s maddening! Which then, at least to me, begs the question, being:
Marissa ~ Surely you didn’t think this was going to be easy? ;0)