All man’s miseries derive from not being able to sit quietly in a room alone
- Blaise Pascal
In the last week and two days I have proven – in spades and in excess – that I am capable of sitting quietly in a room alone.
Hell, I thrive quietly in a room alone.
I’m like a low-maintenance houseplant.
Or a cat with access to a dripping faucet and an open feedbag.
Go about your business and don’t worry about little old me. Just leave a light on and let a neighbor know I exist, okay?
All the same, I’m kind of appalled at my own absence.
How did five days get by me?
Well, for starters, I’m sitting quietly – minus the ticky tacky tapping of Macbook keys – in a room alone all the livelong day (and night).
I could be on Mars for all I (or you) know.
Secondarily, I’m writing a chapter a day.
I should be proud of this, but the thing of it is, my (overly, I now realize) aggressive schedule had me writing two a day.
Who do I think I am?
Joyce Carol Oates?
(I once read that on a real roll she writes 40 pages a day, so she is my Parthenon of big-time page quota writing)
Anywho, I’ve been writing a chapter a day, which honestly isn’t easy, and due to my own strange (inspired?) idea to have the first ten chapters be parallel and modern-day retellings of the life of Christ ages 30 to 32, they’re tedious as well. In addition to the time spent doing said writing, I spend about two hours a day reading Biblical interpretations.
Which I kind of hate.
Okay, I hate it a lot.
I wouldn’t go so far as to say I hate Jesus…but when you’re dreaming about the man in a scholarly kind of way, you’ve possibly/probably/definitely gone too far.
Anyway, I’m working like a dog and making daily progress. Despite this, I’ve been growing increasingly despairing.
“Why?” you ask.
Well, if you’d been paying attention, you’d know I’m growing increasingly despairing because I thought I could write two chapters a day, and it just ain’t happening.
So self-admonition and “mañana, mañana” kick in until today, when the landlord sneeringly asks me, “So are you getting any writing done? Or do you have writers’ block?”
“No,” I told him, “I’ve written nine chapters.”
The sheer look of shock was enough to make me realize that although I may not be JCO (see above for secret decoder ring), but I am doing pretty darn good.
And then he stammered, “Wow. You’re a disciplined writer.”
And THEN he went and made my day (sort of) by adding that he’s happy if he writes a chapter a month.
I don’t have any clue what it is that he’s writing, but whatever.
Doing some quick math, I calculated that on his ‘aggressive’ plan, it would take me three years to write this book. So two or three months instead of one ain’t too shabby.
And it certainly isn’t three years.
So yay me.
In other news:
- The first day I got a funky tan from my ever-present necklaces, but I have hence removed now-not-so-much-ever-present necklaces and evened that mess out.
- Last night, in a fit of “I’m sick of corn tortillas and beans” I made cabbage rolls (any of you with any kind of Eastern European or Russian heritage know what I”m talking about), and they were wonderful. And I ate more for breakfast. And more again tonight for dinner. And there are still five left. Happiness…
- I was trying to trim an errant hair with oversized scissors and cut a chunk out of my eyebrow. Oh well. It’s hair. It’ll grow back.
- I have a girl crush on Ellie, the fast-talking Mexican maid. Not my maid, mind you. I do my own laundry and dishes and sweeping and cleaning. Not that I mind. It’s kind of a simplified, hand-hewn Little House on the Prairie-type existence. Anyway, back to Ellie, she’s so sweet and doesn’t seem to care a lick that I only understand about 30% of what she says. And she’s willing to try all kinds of words until she stumbles into some vocabulary I recognize. The same cannot be said for everyone… Enough said.
- I miss TV. A lot.
- I am really damn tired (it’s a little after midnight here) due in large part to the aggressive ray of sun that shines directly on my face every morning at 7:00am and my persistent very late night bedtimes. In other words, I couldn’t let another day go by without posting something, but in just a few more words that’s all there is to say. Be good. More soon.