Remembering what's important

I had a reality check this morning.  Last night Ozzie, one of our four wonderful ginger companions came in with his eye partially swollen shut.  Upon looking him over it became obvious he had been the victim of a nasty scrap.  Considering his size I would hate to see the other cat.

His lower eyelid is torn and hard to look at.  Somehow he permitted my bungling nursing efforts and I bathed his left eye in salt water, relieved to see he could open it further as a result.  Alana's boyfriend was king hit on New Year's Eve earlier this year and as nasty as it looked all swollen, purple and green he healed quickly and well, so I held great hope for Ozman.

This morning my hope turned to distress, his eye was completely swollen shut and even after bathing he didn't seem able to force it open.  Using my best vetinary skills I managed to prise the lids apart but it wasn't pretty and neither is what I saw.  He had gunk and pus and a swollen angry lump where is lower eyelid had once been.  I felt sick.  I can't imagine how he was feeling.

Lying in bed this morning I had planned my day and it was all about me, well until it was time to take Lani to the gym at least, but now it was all about Oz.  I grabbed the Yellow Pages, looked up my vet's number and dialled. 

My voice was shaky, I knew it was, but I couldn't help it, I wanted his eye to be fine and I wanted it to be better.  It wasn't opening time yet so I was automatically transferred to a very sympathetic nurse working in the emergency clinic who explained that I would need to ring back in ten minutes.  Ten minutes is a long time especially having been informed that they might not be able to make a house call since they were already heavily booked for the morning.  As stupid as it sounds, I have four cats and no cat carrier. 

The vet agreed to make the house call and we arranged a time between 10.30 and 11. Kelsey the receptionist had made my day, whatever happened from here could only be the best for Ozman.  I gave him a pat, I should have left him sleeping, and I returned to doing the books for our business to pass the time. 

Before I knew it a little green hatchback was pulling into my driveway and help was at hand.  Having looked Ozzie over she concluded that yes he had been in a cat fight and yes he did have a cut near his eye but that was just the beginning. He also had a cut on his eyeball, an abcess on his eye, a fever and his lymph nodes were up.  I'd only diagnosed two out of six but I didn't have the flourescent yellow dye that she squirted in his eye and he accepted with out so much as a squeak, nor did I want to think that was possible. 

She dosed his eye with antibiotic drops, popped a tablet in his mouth as easily as if she was administering a tab to a teenager and all was going well. 

Sometimes you just have to know when to stop though.  We discovered that was after the tablet and before the syringe full of pain relief.  Syringes, tablets, stethoscopes and containers went flying, some of which I am sure are lost forever in the dust that resides under my too-low-for-the-vacuum couch, but she wasn't worried.  She found the syringe and discovered that I wasn't in need of stitches so she was happy and we left Ozman alone.

When she left I gave Oz some of the special cat milk I buy for the cats as a treat hoping he would show some interest.  Who was I kidding? This was Ozman I was talking about.  He doesn't lap or nibble at his food the way the others do, he inhales it and in what seemed like seconds the milk was gone.  Oz is going to be fine and so am I.

We get to go through the entire process again in a weeks time so I hope cats don't have amazing powers of recall or things might not be easy as they have been today.  In contrast I hope I do have strong recall abilities because today taught me something invaluable. 

Call it cliched, call it corny, I really don't care.  What I realised is that I didn't care about whether I completed everything on my new to do lists or not, I just wanted Oz to be well and I am glad that I am a stay at home wife and Mum who was gifted the time to sit and wait the 3 hours for the vet.

Charged emotions are the norm when women feel forced to justify their position as either working or stay-at-home Mums and I don't believe that is right.  Women should feel comfortable with their decisions, decisions that should be based on what they consider is best for themselves and their families.  For the first time in a long time, I just became comfortable with mine!

Writing might well be navel gazing but would I  understand myself without it? 

I doubt it!

The dangers lurking in writing sites

Someone should have warned me not to click on the link to writing.com.  It was an innocent enough email reminding me that I haven't logged in for a long time and that my membership might be terminated. I am ashamed to say I have been a member since 2006.  Being a member isn't the embarressing thing though, it was discovering that I have been a member for 6 years and never utilised this wonderful site.

Now I have the opposite problem.  Having rediscovered it, I can't seem to make myself log off, or at least not for any length of time.  I have spent hours over the past few days clicking on this and clicking on that and yet I have barely touched the surface.  Most things register in the 'I must come back and look into that' section of my brain however the list is growing so extensive I doubt my poor brain will be able to keep up.

This is not a bad thing I have decided.  I feel I have found somewhere comfortable for me to spend time with other writers.  I know they have forums, I just have to work out how to access them.  Since I am still in the explore the website phase I am in no real hurry.  There is so much to see and do.  It is hard to classify myself as a newbie when I have been a member for six years so I did consider cancelling my membership and rejoining but I thought better of it.  This way I have a reminder about how often I have put writing on hold.  2006, wow that is a long time ago.  I would have happily kidded myself that I joined a year or two ago.

I can't go back and change anything so there is no point on dwelling on the situation.  What I can do is keep moving forward. It is so much easier to live in the land of regret because it doesn't ask anything of us but there is no reward unless excuses can be seen as some form of pay off. 

Excuses belong in the bin, right beside regrets, never to be recycled. 

I hope I can remember that long enough to complete the projects I am working on.  I can say they have been progressing steadily and I am happy with the structure that has emerged so that is something. 

Never before did I think I would enter a writing competition so that is something as well.  My entry wasn't my best work; it was mainly constructed between the hours of 2am and 4, but I am happy enough with the end result.  My thought process was simple, write and enter it before I have a chance to change my mind and that is what I have done. 

For the first time a piece of my writing has left the safety of my computer for outside consumption.  What a strange and exciting feeling.  I guess this blog is writing of a sort but this is free, straight from the brain to the page with no planning, nothing more in mind than to sit down and free write.  That probably isn't the recipe for a successful blog but it gets my fingers moving across the keyboard and I find that comforting.  It also serves the purpose of calling me to the computer which is where at least part of my writing work is done so that can't be a bad thing. 

My motivation levels continue to grow and I intend to feed them any way I can!

Back to writing

This blog is called 'My writing life and other things' yet looking at my posts it seems other things have taken over. That is definitely not the case.  In fact it is the complete opposite.  Writing has taken over every spare minute.  I guess that is why I have been blogging about other things - they stand out!

Once I made the decision to take writing seriously, I was forced to work out what that meant.  Writing was something to fit into my day when I got a chance, or something I did at the expense of something else, and that had to change.   Now my mornings are dedicated to the house work and what my family needs me to do, just before lunch is boxing time and the rest of the day I either write or research. 

The writing and research part is supposed to end around 5pm but it seems to have a mind of its own and often exceeds the time allocated.  So far that's okay.  No doubt my family will let me know when it isn't.

My need to feel in charge of my life means that I tend to automatically reject anything that imposes limits on me, now it appears I am growing up. 

Routine can be positive! 

With so much planned for each day I use every minute.  Sitting in my car waiting for the kids is no longer wasted time - it is an opportunity to read, new glasses perched on my nose, highlighter in hand.  My car is my mobile study so not a second is wasted. 

Chores no longer have time to stretch out for a day, or two, or three, either,  and I enjoy the structure.  Wow, I never thought I would say that!

Structure has given my day purpose.  Purpose has given me determination and a happiness I had forgotten.  I love my family and I would still put them first if forced to but as much as I can live for them I can't live through them. 

Sometimes we have to take a stand and realise

every life is valuable, even our own!

Honesty

I haven't been here for a little while.  My heads been in a bit of a funk.  I have been tempted to visit when I have felt down but I've avoided the temptation to blurt it all out on here.  This is my happy place or it is supposed to be but does that make it honest?  Is everyone happy all the time?  I know the answer to that but if that is the case why do we pretend so much?  Wouldn't life be better for everyone if we didn't?

I don't mean we should all walk around being miserable - not by a long shot.  I do truly believe there is so much in the world to be positive about, but sometimes when things become too much I feel so alone and even though logic tells me otherwise all I see is a world of happy, bubbly people and I wonder what is wrong with me.  I'm discovering through my writing that I am actually pretty normal, or that is the conclusion I am coming to, whatever normal might be.  Maybe I just think I am normal, because it is my definition.

I can't see how it could be normal to be up, bubbly and enthusiastic every second of every day.  Maybe in a fantasy world but even then I don't think so.  Wouldn't we just stagnate?  Isn't a little bit of questioning and discontent necessary to bring about change or at least appreciation for everything life has handed us?  I am asking lots of questions today but that is how my mind works.  The answers come slowly, although sometimes not at all, but I think the secret to our happiness is in the questions that we ask and the answers that we seek.  How else can we hope to understand ourselves?  I have been asking many, many, many questions, maybe even too many over the last week or so but I am happy to say I have also discovered some answers.

I used to ask why and expect something outside of myself to answer.  Often I didn't even want an answer it was more a complaint, a why me, without any effort in discovering the answer on my part required.  That didn't get me far.  Neither has a lot of my practises but I am really trying to change that so I can change funk to spunk and I can move ahead either in a new direction or follow the same path with new purpose and resolve.

There are many different paths to choose,

This one was at Rainbow Beach in QLD

This one on Fraser Island

This one at a beach on the Sunshine Coast

 

But ultimately it will be my decision which direction I choose to head and mine alone and that is something I am going to embrace.  Fear may be natural and to a certain extent necessary but it should never be crippling. 

Life is for living, not just existing!

It's all about balance

It's grey and cold here today. The sun has decided to go back into hiding.  Many people hate this weather but I don't mind it at all.  For me it is great reading and writing weather.  On a clear, sunny day there is a level of guilt associated with spending time hidden away in my bedroom writing when I should be out enjoying the day.  Days like today, no-one would question my choice of activity.  I do compromise as much as I can and take my book outside however, I am not one of those people who can write outside.  I can write in my journal but I can not do any form of serious writing.  Maybe this is just because it's what I tell myself but regardless of the reason ...
 it is what it is.

Also, should I be writing when I am out and about or is it more beneficial for me to be observing my surroundings.  I spend a lot of time locked away on my own and whilst, (yes whilst) I enjoy that, I am aware that I need to find some balance.  Last night, I asked my husband if he minds coming home to find me in the bedroom, not waiting anxiously for his arrival in my sexiest lingerie, but writing away, our bed hidden under books and paper, his bedside table littered with coffee cups.  He is a smart boy; he answered no.  Next I asked if he minded that every evening, having dealt with dinner, I vanish again into the bedroom leaving him to his own devices until bedtime.  Again he answered no.  That's a relief. 

I have what could be easily described as an addictive personality.  It could also be described as a selfish personality.  I have suppressed my urge to write a book for more years than I care to admit to and now that I have begun in earnest I really don't want anything to stand in my way.  To me, this feels unfair to my family, since I have always put them first and I wanted to ensure that there was no resentment building up just below the surface of my domestic bliss.  At this stage it is no.

This entire conversation with my husband was had at 11pm while we were lying in bed which was probably a tad unfair.   His alarm goes off at 4.45am and he probably just wanted to go to sleep.  It's true, maybe other things crossed his mind, but I doubt any of those things were -  I hope we get to lie here and just talk all night.

Anyhow, this is where the whole balance thing comes up again.  I am still trying to find a happy balance between all the things I love, but I feel I am getting there slowly, if for no other reason than I am aware of the need to do so.  To combat my me time I am going to make a concerted effort to spend time with my hubby and to ensure that when I do, my focus is not back in the bedroom.  Actually, I am sure he wouldn't mind if that is where my focus drifted as long as my thoughts had nothing to do with my book.  He would probably put up with that though.  We have had 25 years to get used to each others foibles. If I changed too much now he might start to worry.

I know I will start to worry if I keep writing here and not in the bedroom though so that is it for today.  Balance, balance, balance!  That is my new mantra.

Another day

The writing blog

Well, I have discovered something important over the last two days.  Dinner doesn't get cooked if I am in my room writing.  I am sure my family is glad I have made this realisation.  It's not that I plan on this happening, it just seems to.  I go into my room around 4pm to work and next thing you know it's 7 and my kids are wondering what's for dinner.  Nothing always pops into my head, but I haven't disregarded my responsibilities to that stage yet.  Now I see why I should write in the morning.  Although, I really can't see that happening.  I have faith that I will find the balance I am seeking.  If not I have faith that my family will nag me until I do. 

Speaking of family, Lani is struggling with the flu.  It is horrible to see your kids sick.  The logic is definitely floored in some way but I would much rather it be me than her.  I hope she feels better really soon and that it doesn't go right through the household again.  Anyhow I have a lot of home schooling work to do, for some reason curriculums just don't design themselves, so I am going to go and prove to myself that I can be a responsible, functioning adult and do what I am supposed to be doing.

If anyone has any tips on how to squeeze some more hours out of the day I would love to hear them. Please share. I did find one way - I didn't come on here for a couple of days. That helped but I missed it so I am back.  I wish I could find a way to miss housework and cooking.

A bit of this and a bit of that

The writing bit

I had a really strange experience today.  Well it wasn't strange so much as I found it a tad scary.  I realised just how easy it is to program ourselves without consciousness.  About now, I should explain.  I have mentioned that I tend to write in my bedroom because I consider it to be my sanctuary and I thought that was all there was too it.  Now, I am beginning to wonder. I am aware that I still go to my bedroom to write on the rare occasions when I am the only one home.  This tendency doesn't really make a lot of sense since the lounge room or the office would be much more comfortable, but I don't really think too much of it.  Habit - that's all.

What I discovered this morning changed my thinking.  I was the only one home so I thought why not stay in the lounge room to write.  There was no need to expect interuptions so all was well.  I grabbed my book, my pen, my cuppa and expected everything to just flow.  How wrong I was.  Firstly, the kids came home, friends in tow.  That ended up okay because they headed straight out on to the deck leaving me well enough alone. All should have been fine.  Pen in hand, book open, yesterday's writing looking at me, yep, pen in hand, book open, yesterday's writing looking at me, and, and ... nothing.  Nothing came.  What's going on? Write!  Just put words on paper and go from there.  Slowly I managed to squeeze out some words but after half a page of agonizing effort I scribbled out the lot.

When I write in first draft mode I do scratch out the wrong word or two, maybe even a sentence when it doesn't sound right or if I feel it is taking me in the wrong direction but rarely will I erase entire sections.  That comes later, in edit mode.  Not today, it just wasn't happening.  Then a little voice whispered in my head, "Go to the bedroom." I listened.  What did I have to lose? 

I'll tell you what I lost.  I lost my frustrations.  Seven rapidly written pages later I felt fine, only stopping because Adrian got home from work.  I was even willing him to unpack his ute slowly so I could keep writing.  Why the change?

I can't be sure, but at this stage, until something happens to change my thinking, I believe it is because I have told myself that I write in the bedroom.  There is no other real explanation.  It isn't that it was any quieter in my room.  I was still very much aware that I had a house full of teenages boys so nothing apart from my location had changed. My coffee had gone cold too, but that was it. 

When I was telling Adrian what had happened, hot fresh coffee in hand, I began to wonder what else I had programmed myself to believe.  I am curious to see what I discover.  Hopefully one of the things will be that my body really doesn't want me to replace cigarettes with food.  Tomorrow will mark the end of our seventh smoke free week.  YEAH for us.  Adrian and I are doing the "We are non-smokers" thing together. I guess that has been another example of subtle programming since I have managed to go from a pack-a-day-plus smoker to nothing just by telling myself I am a non smoker.  I decided not to think that I was quitting, just that I didn't smoke and it's working - no patches, no nothing.

Until I actually wrote that I had never really thought about that either.  How oblivious am I to my own thinking????  Wow! I have always believed in the power of the subconscious mind but probably more academically than anything else.  I can see how it works but I haven't focused for long periods on utilising its potential, well not consciously anyhow, says the non-smoking, bedroom writer.  That is going to change.  I wonder if trying to make it happen works the same.  I guess there is only one way to find out.  So here goes. I drink lots of water rather than eating junky food and I feel great.  It is the natural thing to do and I listen to my body.

The feeling great bit shouldn't be hard at all.  My body is continuously showing me how much it hates my post smoking diet, so are the scales, but until now I have felt powerless to do anything about it.  That is all about to change.  I am healthy and I can write in any room in my house if I so desire! 

The blogging bit

I have just been wondering if it is easy to upload photos.  Hopefully, I will find out in the next day or two. 

That's it for now.  It's getting late and I really need to ring my poor husband.  He is down at the hospital, sitting in casualty with my son waiting for an x-ray.  Dan came off his longboard tonight and even though he assures us he is fine, he can't bend or straighten his arm.  They are both having a great time.  Three hours and they haven't been looked at yet.  It is Saturday night though so none of us are surprised.  I know I will have 2 not so happy men in my house at some stage tonight especially if it turns out he is fine.  You'd think that will make them happy but somehow I don't think so.  I know it will make me happy, but then I am here blogging away.  Since Adrian left I having been reading my book in front of the heater while finishing the Black Russian (Vodka, Kahlua and Coke) I had made for Adrian.  Oh well, I am looking after his liver health.  As weird as it sounds, I actually feel strange being at home and I kind of wish I was down there.  I am not used to not being the one down at the hospital.  If I was down there I would probably feel different, but maybe not. I think it is a Mum thing, but that may be a gross generalisation.

Anyhow, time to go drink some water and ring Adrian.

Blog overload

My blogging life

Wow, talk about blog overload.  I spent yesterday afternoon reading various blogs and now I am scared.  In my mistaken naivety I thought that I would just come on here, blog away, and by some mysterious power I would find people and they would find me.  Now that I have read all about what I am supposed to do I am feeling totally overwhelmed. 

I will happily make my page pretty at some stage.  I like doing that sort of stuff and it is a great distraction from whatever I am supposed to be doing on the computer, like planning next term for my kids schooling, or writing up what they have been doing, but I didn't realise the importance of doing so.  I am in the "so no idea" category that I didn't realise people ran blogs as, or for, businesses.  Don't get me wrong, I did know that people have blogs on their business websites but I never really connected things.  Oh well, I am sure I will get there.  I am still having trouble finding my own blog on here though, let alone anyone elses.  In time I am sure I will work it out.  Until then I have decided to just have some fun.  I admit I was incredibly excited to receive my first comment - a welcome.  Yes I am such a dag but hey I promised to be honest.

Anyhow, dorkiness revealed let's move on.  I can see the addictiveness of blogging, I returned to my computer several times in the early evening yesterday, when I should have been in the kitchen cooking dinner, because I thought of things I wanted to ask.  Also an idea would hit me and I wanted to try it out.  Yes I am a tad impulsive.  In the end I was left with a question, why do people start blogs? I am really curious to find out. I hope eventually people let me know.

The way I see it, they are time consuming, a lot of effort and potentially totally addictive.  For people like me dangerous to say the least.  I already have limited sleep time.  At some stage I really must say stop, enough is enough, but obviously that isn't today.

My writing life

When I started this, all of yesterday, I decided it was going to be predominantly about my writing experience, so here goes.  I have learnt a valuable lesson, unfortunately it took a while.  Do not write at night in the bedroom.  Just about every writing book I have read tells me that I shouldn't write at night because for whatever reason the writing is not as good.  I may well discover that is true but I haven't had much chance to explore the idea as yet.  I am not what you would call a morning person unless you are referring to the hours between say 1am and 5am, then I really am a morning person.  My body, or is it my mind, has made the strange decision that I don't need sleep, well not until about 4.30am, which really doesn't work in my household.  My husband's alarm has often gone off by then and I really should be up by 7am at least to get my day started. 

Here is what really happens.  I go to bed, my mind wanders, I am fascinated by the journeys it takes me on and I follow it, I watch my husband sleep, and I love my life.  Around 5ish I am getting tired but I am still partially ready to get up.  By 7 I just want to sleep the day away.  With this wet weather we have been having it is even more tempting.  Here is my dilemma - I home school my 2 children and I believe part of that is setting some sort of example.  Teenagers don't need any encouragement to sleep all day.  So, I drag my sorry butt out of bed and begin my day.  By this time it is probably more around 8.30am. 

Now writing teachers, as I mentioned, tell me I am supposed to write now.  Well, here's the facts.  The only functioning I seem to be able to do is to wake my daughter up, switch the kettle on, make a cuppa and say good morning to my son.  He is on a good phase of getting up on his own at the moment.  Even the cuppa has been known to stretch my capacities on occasions.  How you might ask. Well let's just say I have tried to make a coffee without the coffee and sugar?  I hope there is someone out there who has done the same.

Anyhow, to sit down and write now seems near on impossible most of the time.  The muscles in my hands haven't even began communicating with my brain and for some reason I like to write longhand now.  I do get excited when I look up at the clock and see it is before midday and I am writing though.  It's a real case of yeah I did it but I don't think it is what the teachers meant some how.  Maybe I will discover that all my writing is *#@$ as a result, and that would bother me, really it would but the thing is I still love to write.  Writing fills so many roles in my life.  It cousels me more often than not.  It helps me to understand myself and often it gives me a good stern talking to when I need it.  By looking into things I gain clarity.  The only clarity I find in the morning is that my body needs sleep!!!

Am I awake every night - well no.  Some nights exhaustion takes over and I sleep.  It's probably about a 50/50, 60/40 split.  Anyhow, that is me and I am used to it and I love the solitude of being awake when the house is asleep.  There is no demands at night, no phone ringing, no kids wanting anything, just me.  I think that is probably why I don't sleep, I like the me time.  In a busy house, filled with several teenage children that aren't my own more often than not, there is not a lot of quiet.  I am not complaining though.  I love teenagers.  They keep my young.  They also age me but like most things in life you have to take the good with the bad - don't you?

Anyhow, I started this with giving myself some advice that I know I will not take, but that is besides the point.  I did hear, I just didn't listen. I tried to tell myself not to write at night in the bedroom.  The reason I think this is sound advice is because my book, the one I am writing, and the other two that compete for space in my head, take up a huge chunk of my thinking time.  To encourage them to the surface while I am in my bedroom, sitting on my bed leading up to sleep time is inviting sleeplessness but I doubt I will change.  I do resist the urge to turn the light back on and just write a little bit more, well most of the time anyway, so that is an improvement.  I am so lucky my husband is a heavy sleeper.

It is getting on to a time when I feel I can go and look at what I was writing last night and continue the thread.  I hope so anyway.  Maybe there is a right and wrong way to do things and I understand self discipline is a good thing but what about individuality.  Surely that has to rate somewhere!

Off and running

Well, it is hard to believe this is my second blog page.  My first blog lasted the time it took me to have a bath.  I began a blog on observations of life in the suburbs because it is what I do, or so I thought.  When it came to it though it wasn't real or true, it was fabricated.  Falsity and the life we portray is actually what my attempt at a first book is about so I didn't want to start my blogging life pretending.  I do often look at what is going on around me and write about it but not for publication.  I generally write for clarification.  It is how I make sense of myself and the world around me. 

The world of blogging is totally new to me.  My complete knowledge of blogging can be summed up in 3 words, Julie & Julia. That's it - a movie.  Why am I doing this?  I am not really sure.  Maybe it is my way of seeing my words in print.  That is probably partially true, I admit it. Isn't every creative person a little conceited like that, but is more than that.  I am hoping to reach others with the same passions, frustrations and fears.

I looked at a couple of blogs and one asked a question, "What advice do you wish you had received before you started blogging?"  The common answer was to write about what you are passionate about, what interests you.  That is what brought about the change in my blog.  I am interested in observing life but what I think about all the time is writing.  This was the a-ha moment I had in the bath.  I want to write, actually I do write - daily, but at this stage for no-one but myself.  One day I would like that to change, but until that magical day comes I will write, write and write a bit more for myself.

I keep a diary for my day to day thoughts, but I thought it would be fun/scary to keep a diary of my writing life.  I am fortunate to have a wonderfully supportive husband who panders to my writing dream.  Otherwise I wouldn't have the time to work on my book, home school my two teenage children, write my journal and blog.  Maybe he shouldn't encourage me quite so much.  He might live a much more settled life if he didn't, although I doubt it.  Writing feels like it is in my blood.  I can't escape it; believe me I have tried.  When people ask me what I am going to do with myself when I finish home schooling I usually tell them I will get an office job, which no doubt I will but what I want to do, the dream that never goes away is, I will write.  Why can't I be like normal people and just want a job with regular hours and a regular pay check.  I guess it's because that is not me.  I am sure I am not the only one that feels this way.  Obviously every published author feels or has felt this way but I am sure there are many other people who tap away at keyboards or scribble in notebook after notebook that share my passion for words.  I hope so or I truly am as insane as I sometimes feel.