-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

anyway, i am still here

A month into the semester (a month! a quarter of the way done!) and it's just been busy, busy, busy.

I've been trying to stay on top of my writing with mixed success. I did somehow manage to cobble together 10 pages between mid-August and mid-September, but nothing since.

Last week was particularly brutal at work (I'm being overly dramatic, of course, but still) and it was challenging to just get everything done that I *had* to get done.

But Friday was the first day of production for the newspaper staff's first print issue and so we opened up the newsroom for the day (I am normally not on campus on Fridays) and I carted in snacks and they worked diligently while I caught up on at least parts of my to-do list (the never-ending to-do list). This weekend has moments of breath to spare and I'm hoping that will kickstart the creativity a bit once more. I'm revisiting, too, the idea of getting a hotel room or an AirBnB for a few nights. It's not cheap but I'm trying to place a value on my writing and even though it's been tough, eking out these words in bits and pieces, I can see how they are starting to take form to become a story.

Finishing this project will literally (literally!) take a million years but it will take even longer if I don't give it the space and time to actually grow.

The season is slowly turning here. It was cooler this week and even rained, gloriously. It's going to be hot again at the start of the week--97 degrees on Tuesday but there's a projected thirty degree temperature swing for the weekend and I am here for it. Bring me your sweaters, your tights, your boots and scarves. Bring me your blankets, your mugs of tea, your cozy socks and your falling leaves.

I accidentally came across a letter I wrote four years ago, stored on my laptop. A request to unseal my birth certificate--the original one showing P. as my mother, not B. A reminder that I never followed up on the judge's response. I must mail a new version of the letter to a court in Austin. I amended the letter as best as I could for now. I need to find the name of the appropriate judge and address and then I will get it in the mail, four years after P. died. Four years. How has it been four years since I flew out to Texas on a moment's notice? Four year since a five-day trip turned into 10 days. Four years since the countdown began. Four fucking years.

Anyway, I am still here. Somehow still alive in this crazy world.

11:28 am - 21.09.19

sounds:
words:
i am:

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

previously on ... - next time on ...

in which my mother runs for president - 06.10.19 - 5:40 pm

anyway, i am still here - 21.09.19 - 11:28 am

twenty years and counting - 15.08.19 - 6:15 pm

If only - 13.08.19 - 11:35 am

a slow wave of loss - 12.08.19 - 11:38 am

latest entry

about me

archives

notes

base

contact

random entry

guestbook

other diaries:

andrew
silverluna
thruthecrowd
narcissa
gizzhead
fuck--that
arajane
histamine
dangerspouse
dirtyboots
catsoul
secret-motel
moodswing
yourtipsucks
birdandegg
sparkspark
veganfuckk
ratherbored
astralounge
oh-sweet-pea
boombasticat
gingeryette
but-whatever
dearedwin
miralogue
ann-frank
colddigits
kayemess
reddirtgirl
mrs-roboto
soapboxdiner
myra-lee
nudeplatypus
allmadhere
inarticulate
miserystar
widgetbitch