Site looks weird. This is what happens when you take a few days off.
Look, it’s been a rough week. I fudged my way through the weekend without writing, and that’s on me. But Sunday night, ’round 2am, Erin got a call that her mom was evacuated because of the fires in California. The last time this happened to her (not long ago, we’re talking three years), we were out there. She could come stay with us. This time, us being in Michigan now, made it a lot harder. She’s fine now, she’s at home, as safe as she can be. It’s not just Becky of course. I’ve got friends on either side of her that are also in danger. I know the temps have been incredibly high out there, and there’s wind but no rain. And fucking PG&E will gladly drop power any chance they get (and charge you anyways because they know that, after the fires they caused before, they can get away with anything they want) so staying cool in a hot, stagnant house with the windows closed to keep the smoke out has got to be miserable enough, but add to it that you might also have to flee for your life any second is that much more fun.
My mom was supposed to have surgery this week. This would be on one of her knees (the other one was done last year). But it didn’t happen because her blood pressure was too low. Which you know, great, sure, they caught that and didn’t move forward right now. But it sure does show how scary it is that this is a normal thing for her now and that her heart surgery that she desperately needs could be the next thing that doesn’t happen, or that something can go horribly wrong if it does.
So I’m stressed out. And I am happy to sit and say how stressed I am and how writing can take a backseat to it, and really who is this for and so on and on.
But It’s October 1st. NaNo would be in just over thirty days’ time and I’m still no closer to knowing what to do about it. My brain still isn’t creatively happy or productive. Things are not getting easier or better when it comes to me trying to write. So my not wanting to write feels very “excuse-y” in my head and I would rather spend twenty minutes bitching at myself on here than allow any small amount of progress I was feeling i was making to crawl back up my asshole.
Speaking of, I have to call my dad. It’s his birthday.
(I love my dad. Still an asshole.)
So I don’t know what the next few weeks are going to be. Or the rest of this year because, fuck, it’s just a shit pile, right? Some days I’m going to be here, I hope. Others I can see I might not be. I’m not condoning it or forgiving myself for it. I’m just being honest. Not a lot is bringing me peace right now.
Just so long as we’re clear.
