Aspiring Novelist

January 8, 2025

Same Historic Events, Different Generation

Since Zuck decided to join the Nazi party, I have ditched both facebook and instagram. I have zero interest in participating in that nonsense. This boot licking Magat shit has truly been something to behold. The way every rich piece of shit has kissed the ring since he was elected is astonishing, but weirdly unsurprising. Of course they have… they need more money to add to their Everest of cash.

Unattaching myself from social media accomplishes two-fold, it makes it where I no longer will participate in the bullshit while simultaneously protecting my fragile world view.

Last night watching Tiktoks I found myself panicked about the state of the world. Once again I am reminded how insignificant I am and how little control I have over my own existence. To combat this I have decided to narrow down the media I consume. I need to put myself into a position where I am informed but not so filled with anxiety that I am slowly lose my mind. It’s a genuinely fine line to walk because, let’s face it, I am crazy.

The one aspect of this “purge” (for lack of a better word) that upsets me is that I did it after Charlie’s passing. He so wanted me to unplug and not let my thoughts be consumed by that which I had zero control over. He begged me. I just refused. It is one of my many regrets. The thought of not staying “on top of everything” was too upsetting for me. As if knowing that the missile was coming would somehow save me when it’s detonation was imminent and there would be no way for me to get out of the blast zone. Y’know what I mean?

Burying my head in the sand isn’t going to stop the world and the “powers that be” from doing what they can and will do. All I can do is respond to that which is before me. Until I encounter it, it is none of my concern.

My sister-in-law asked me on election night if I genuinely thought we would turn into Nazi Germany and… I hesitated to answer. I don’t know. I just don’t. However we are told repeatedly that history repeats itself. If you’re gifted with pattern recognition you will see that there are so many similarities between then and now that you’d have to be the optimist of optimists to not believe where we are headed.

January 2, 2025

A Ghost Ship Sails Into 2025

I can’t let a New Year arrive and not do my usual post… I’m almost certain I’ve done one every Jan 1st since I started my first ever blog on Xanga. Granted, I am a little late by doing it on the 2nd. I was otherwise preoccupied yesterday as I was adhering to the restrictions of the “Cline – Hensley Christmas Truce of 2005.” I am proud to say that peace has been maintained for another year.

Before I go any further I must warn you that this is going to be sad. I don’t mean it to be. Nor am I trying to garner sympathy. I am just sharing my experiences within the wake of loss and grief. Just know I am fine. I am powering through. There is no hint or whiff of self-harm anywhere in my body. Were you to have metaphysical powers to examine me, all you would find is the comfort and acceptance I have for my own mortality. So, fear not dear reader!

There was an urge to write this last night before the day passed, but I couldn’t be bothered. At home all I have is my phone and, if I am feeling the energy to do so, I can lug my huge laptop into the living room where I balance it on my sweaty thighs to do my writing. Neither of those really spoke to me. Therefore I decided to wait until I was sitting in the office at my PC to quickly write this out. (I’m on commission. It’s fine.) And here it is:

I have no hope for this year. None. I do not think that it will be bad, which it most likely will, but I also do not think it will be good. I think we’re all going to collectively have another parade of lessons we better be prepared for, which I am certain no one is. If Covid taught me anything it is that society has an unhealthy amount of willful ignorance and stubbornness.

As I look into the stretch of another year spinning through the Milky Way, I lack any ambition or drive to complete anything. Most people have “Travel more” or “be more kind.” On the other hand, I just want to exist. I see no sense in trying to set up some ambitious goal I will most likely break. No grand pronouncement on some digital platform is going to force me into adhering to it. The fact of the matter is, I don’t care. I don’t see any hope or joy on the horizon, even when there is very much “joy” within sight.

I have a bunch of fun vacations planned throughout the year, but they pale in comparison to the fact that my job is only getting worse. Whether unintentionally or by design is yet to be seen. I’ve given my “boss” a year deadline and if Trump doesn’t magically turn the world into a wealth making machine “for everyone” then I’m fucked. So, in short, I’m fucked.

Do not despair, dear reader. I am not giving up without putting in the last bits of gusto I have left. I promised my husband I would complete my education to achieve the next step in my career. He had wanted me to do this while he was still alive, however caring for him at his whims and doing the courses would have genuinely driven me insane. I told him I was going to put a pin in that, but I promised, promised him that I would complete it once he was gone. It’s been over six months and I have at least purchased the required courses. They sit, unopened in my on-line school “library.” All I have to do is, well, do them. Once those are completed I take the required proctored exams for each one, apply to the state office, (if approved) take the ultimate exam for licensing and then pay the fee. So. No need to get overwhelmed. One thing at a time…

Some would say this is a New Year’s resolution but it isn’t. It’s baggage from a previous engagement. Again I am not in control of my own choices. I am bound to promises from long ago. Which is fine, not a complaint. More just another example that our lives don’t seem to belong to us, but rather to outside forces that tear at us from opposing sides.

I enter 2025 with no hope or promise, just apathy. I am an empty vessel. This may turn out to be a good thing. It leaves me at the ready for new experiences and opportunities. Ultimately this current state of existence protects me from the stress and anguish that is absolutely coming.

December 21, 2024

For the longest time I thought there was something wrong with me because I never really “missed” someone. Not in the sense that their absence caused me pain. I would miss things I once did or situations but people was not one of them. This feeling was made worse because the moment my husband would leave me he would text and ask “miss me?” I didn’t. I never missed him. I rationalized it that I knew he was coming back. Once he returned I would be just as content as if he wasn’t with me.

Some time in the past couple years I learned that this is a trait of ADHD. We don’t miss people like neurotypical people.

I say all that to say that I miss my husband. Immensely. It’s not an obvious thought it’s more in the little things, like when all I want to do is to talk to him.

I know that at this point I’m just a broken record. I will make the same complaints now that I will in a few months because this missing piece is just not coming back. I will try to replace it but nothing can or will ever replace the giant hole he left in my life. He was a huge presence.

With the holidays I feel this more and more. I’m stressing about money like I never have before, and all that does is make me think of my husband. I was the irresponsible one who spent like it was going out of style, but here I am taking up the mantle.

Today I am just filled with irritable rage. Everything and everyone infuriates me. Even being alone makes me angry. Nothing can appease the emotions bubbling inside my chest.

November 14, 2024

It’s NaNoWriMo

Within the literary community, November is known as Nation Novel Writing Month (aka NaNoWriMo.) In the past I have participated and even wrote my first novel during the event back in 2009. I enjoyed the process so much I subsequently wrote two sequels to that same novel. One was ABSOLUTE GARBAGE which will NEVER see the light of day and the other was so good it is the actual sequel.

The way it works is starting November 1st a wannabe writer sits down and clacks out 1,667 words. The idea is not to think, but to just write. I remember reading on their “official” website that you’re suggested to not even go back and re-read what you had previously written, as to not deter yourself by your internal critic. Although I have not seen that since and I have looked. Regardless, I have stuck tight to that rule. It keeps one focused on the task at hand and not worrying about prose or content but moreso on getting the story out. They also suggested writing down EVERYTHING one can think of for the story. Anything superfluous can be cut during editing. Build the world and characters in the moment. Focus on that more than anything else. Plus, it then makes hitting the daily word total a breeze.

I thought about participating but… November is a hard month for me what with my husband’s and my anniversary on the 1st, my birthday, and all the other celebrations that tend to happen in the same month. Now, it’s even more difficult because in addition to my birthday at the very beginning of the month as is my boyfriends. This year we began the month in Seattle traveling and I didn’t really have the time. I also didn’t really have an idea to write about.

That all changed a week ago.

As I was driving to work a story popped into my head based on the passing of my husband. Since then the narrative has been rolling around in my brain building itself up into a fully formed shape. Now, I am thinking about starting halfway through the month on typing it out just to see where it goes… The first NaNoWriMo I did was loosely based on a break-up with a boyfriend. Just told from the perspective of my ex. It was insanely cathartic. Not to mention it was fucking good. I am so proud of how it turned out. Why not use that same energy to handle my grief?