Saturday, March 31, 2012

Obsession Leads to Burn Out


Cartridge pleats cannot be done on machine, fyi.
My sewing machine died. It’s had a full life, well loved and well used. My husband, being more frugal than I (yes, I would love a new sewing machine with a fancy gathering stitch), brought it into Sears for servicing. The dude there said the problem was the many, many, broken needles jammed inside. He said we should only use Kenmore needles instead of anything substandard.

What the dude did not realize was just how hard I used that machine. When I sew, I sew on duck canvas, velvet, and heavy upholstery fabrics. Frequently they are more than 3 thick, pleated, and boned. I abuse the hell out of my machine (and the brand of needles is irrelevant). When I’m on a sewing jag, I sew my machine into the ground. It is comatose afterward and my fingers bleed – but I have fabulous results

This leads into 2 points:
  1. My obsessive personality and 2. Faire

I’ll start with #2 because it’s shorter.

Faire is here! (NOTE: I wrote this before I broke my foot) I opted out last year because I was spread too thin (which I had been to foolish to realize the previous years I actually attempted it). This year I will visit as a guest of court for the 50th anniversary of faire. I’m really looking forward to it. It will be all the good about faire with none of the obligation or the drama. The only stress is refurbishing one of my costumes and making a new child-size gown (luckily both kids are the same size). But, for this, I need my machine.

So, on to #1 – my obsessive personality.  I get obsessed with things and throw myself into the fray with every ounce of my being. I have done this with faire and, as result, burned out. My expectations for myself far exceed what anyone actually expects from me, so, when I don’t deliver, I live in a state of being disappointed with myself. This is because I know my capabilities. When I half ass something, even if it’s acceptable, I feel no sense of accomplishment. My first 5 years of faire, I thrived on knowing I did my best. When life got complicated, it was no longer fun to be in faire because I was sub-par (to myself). I worry that this will happen with writing.

I love the feel of accomplishment I get from finishing a good scene. Or finishing that first draft.  The problem I’m having now is that I CAN’T FINISH MY $&#^*% FIRST DRAFT OF COURTLY ABANDON!  It’s making me crazy. I am self sabotaging like a bad mamajama and I don’t know why. I started this project in January 2011. Now it’s March. Over a year – that is not prolific writing. I also started Karma back in January, but it gave way to Courtly Abandon’s dominance.

I do not think I'm burned out on writing, but I may be burned out on Courtly Abandon. I need to finish it, then let my brain recuperate for a couple months before tackling edits. In the meantime, I'll start something fresh and be able to give it my 100%.

This blog post was started in early March. It is now the end of the month and I haven't been upright long enough to write anything new. So, I am posting it as is. The good news is that I have made progress in Courtly Abandon since my fall (handwriting). I do not remember where I was going with this, but it seems fairly complete as is and I'd rather post something substandard than have radio silence.

Now to type up what I've written so far in Courtly Abandon. Anon.

Friday, March 16, 2012

I'm Not Ignoring You


3 hours after fall
I broke my foot on Sunday, 3/11. Urgent care said it was a bone chip, but the orthopedic doctor said the chip is attached to a tendon, so requires surgery. Oh, and I broke it in 3 other places as well. While this validated my pain and made me feel less wussy, it has really thrown a wrench in the gears of my life.

I have to take extended leave from school. I still don’t know if this means disability or a sub – and if my sick days are limited to M/W/F (the days I teach) or the whole week. And if I’m doing lesson plans. I don’t know anything. It stresses me out a lot, but then I take a Vicodin™.
Day 2

I also have not been upright long enough to write and/or blog. I am woefully behind on checking people’s crusader challenges and missed another Romantic Friday Writer’s opportunity. It stresses me out, but then the Vicodin™ kicks in and I’m comatose for the 4 hours the drug works.

It’s the only way I can sleep now because I’m wearing a big f-ing (I've been cussing a lot) boot that weighs 20lbs and doesn’t fit right. They were going to cast it, but I had to get it CAT scanned so they opted for the boot.  I would complain more here, but my Vicodin™ is starting to work and I need to lay down.
Stupid $%&#&#@ boot

So this blog is to say I’m not ignoring anyone. I will catch up after my surgery (Wednesday-ish).

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Second Campaigner Challenge: Water Pear


Blame this on the 2nd Crusader Challenge.
This is waaaaaaaay outside of my box. I dabbled in poetry as a teenager as an expression of my angst, but not really since. It's almost enough of a bizarre phenomenon to warrant recording the date.  I have no idea why I was drawn to write a poem, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. This poem addresses:
  5.  Write a poem/flash fiction piece (in less than 200 words) about the water pear *without* using the words “pear”, “spoon”, or “droplet”.
It is definitely less than 200 words (at 83). I actually felt like its natural stopping place was after the 2nd verse, but opted for quantity over quality. Since I write romance, I made it a sensual experience.  I actively dislike the “toothsome delight,’ but I can’t think of anything better.

Joy in the Wanting

Spray dusting my skin
Cool, sweet, springtime fresh
Surprised, awed, I blink
My beaded lashes
Paint my blushing cheek
With soft, wet kisses

Longing for the taste
Just a reach away
Honeyed mist floating
Teasing my senses
With false promises
Gone in a flash. Lost.

Incorporeal
Unattainable
Tasting my own lips
With my seeking tongue
A lingering hint
Finds what could have been

No succulent flesh
No toothsome delight
Just a memory
To tantalize me
Or is it torture
To know I’m denied?

Thank you for reading my submission, #61. I look forward to reading through the other entries.
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