Continuing on a Theme

“Don't bend; don't water it down; don't try to make it logical; don't edit your own soul according to the fashion. Rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly.”--Franz Kafka

I grew up a conservative, Catholic Canadian. That quote? Pretty much the antithesis of how I was taught to behave out in the world. So it shocks me that someone thought of me when they saw it. And...it sort of inspires me, even if that good little Catholic girl in there thinks its a scary, completely dangerous idea that can only end in tragedy and/or a pail of Haagen Dasz.

A lot of the time I just trundle through life completely unaware that I am, in fact, sort of living it. For one thing, we don't just home school our kids. We un-school them. We encourage them in their creative pursuits of music an dance and art, and squeeze math and science in when it comes up. (and for the record, because they're brilliant, (and I'm their mom, so I get to say that, and no one gets to argue with me about it!) they're still ahead of most of their peers in those subjects.) We don't own a car. We don't (often) mow our lawn, and when we do, we use that old-fashioned kind of mower. You know the kind without a motor?

Occasionally, we even grow our own veggies and make our own wine.

I'm a writer, for cryin' out Pete's sake! I write not just novels, but romance novels, and not just that, but erotic romance novels, and not even just that but GAY romance novels!!!!!

I am living the life I never even dared to dream of back in the day when I first put pen to paper when I was fifteen years old. I am doing what I love. I'm living the life that makes me deliriously happy.

Granted, a good portion of my family (and trust me, it's a REALLY big family) thinks I'm insane, probably even thinks I'm in denial over how much I am in love with my family and the life we have. In fact, I'm pretty sure certain members of my family can barely stand to watch just how little we care about things like status quo, conformity, conventional-ism, and a trimmed lawn. I'm pretty sure some of them think it's all my husband's fault. That I need to be rescued.

I'm positive I'm just mercilessly following my passions and my bliss.

Just like when I write a book, and I follow my characters into plots more conservative writers might frown on, I'm not doing it for them. I'm doing it for me. And if I teach my kids one thing in life, I hope I teach them to be brave and stand up for the mercenary in them that wants happiness above status and conventional acceptance. (With any luck, that won't include anything really socially unacceptable that might land them in jail or anything.)

I self-edited all this joy and self expression out of my soul for nearly thirty years of my life. It's bad for a book, and it's bad for your soul. I'm not doing it any more. So there!

What about you? Do you ever look at your own life and think: "Damn! I really am doing ok!"

Let's Play...

Let's play the "what Is..." game. I give you the answer, and you give me the question. Well. I suppose, technically, I'll give you both, but it'll be fun for you to guess as we go along.

So, first up: Worth it's weight in Gold.

...Answer: What is a block of sharp cheese? Well. Yes, but not was I was going for. I was going to say, a husband who not only gets this headline and why I might care... 

But actually brings the magazine home from the theater so he can show me and we can grin over it together. That's Twu Wuv....

Next: Not the Droid you're looking for.

Answer: What are any of the half dozen or so found in the bottom of son's Lego box, because he's after a specific one that came with a specific set...which he never actually received, so how he thinks he has it, I have no idea. But then, I'm just a weak-minded fool apparently susceptible to the most basic of mini-Jedi mind control tricks. (Oh. Here's something interesting. My computer knows how to spell Jedi better than I do. Huh.) And, I am also easily distracted. SQUIRREL!!!!

 And finally: Worth every penny they get paid and then some.

Answer: Who are cover artists. And I'll tell you why. Better yet, I'll show you. First, Anne Cain's work on my first Dreamspinner novel. "Better"  and next, the head of the Art Department over at Total E-Bound her work on the co-authored book "Tools of Justice" 

Conversations

Son: "I can't put my clean laundry away. There's no more room in my dresser."
Me: "Toss all the jeans with the holes in the knees, and the rest will fit."
Son: "They aren't holes. It's a *style*
Me: *face palm* Leaves*
Some things just are not worth arguing with an eight yr old over. Trust me on this. In fact, so much of what goes on in a kid's head is beyond me, despite the fact I once was one.

For instance, just this morning, my daughter sat a the table and told me....Told Me....to get her a bowl of cereal. O.o Really. Where does she get that? And of course immediately on the heels of asking myself that, I realize the answer. Me. Damn. I did that to her. Do you know how long it's going to take to train that out of her now? And worse, now I can't use her as my fetch and carrier, either, because that's a double standard she will never, ever allow to be forced on her. Kid's too smart for my own good.....

Now, of course, I didn't get cereal for her. Her (adult) cousin made her grilled cheese less than ten minutes later. Sigh. There is no winning, really.

There's Always Something...

So many rants, so little time...

So to pick one out of the hat, let's talk today about how one thing or another always seems to come into play to make life difficult. You know, that whole, just when you think you've crested the hill and coast down the other side, you see that there's just more uphill in front of you?

Mostly, it's about finding time to write. Now a long time ago, we (my family and I) made the decision that I would be the wage earner and Hubs would be the primary care giver. I am in no way regretting that decision. The kids have reached an age (and frankly, I think so have I) where i can no longer effectively home school them.The arrangement works tolerably well. More than tolerably, actually.

I like my day job. I work part time making sandwiches for business men and cheerfully taking their money. It's a fun job, not very taxing, and it has actually got me moving enough I've lost a bit of weight. WOOT!

I don't hate my other day job, working occasional full time for the government. Lots of aspects of the way the government handles their workers, I take exception to, but that is not something I can publicly rant about :D The people are nice, the job itself is not terrible. 'Nuff said.

There is also the matter of the 'volunteer' work I do for my daughter's dance studio so she can take all teh dance classes she wants to do. I don't mind any of that. Mostly, it's pretty fun, and stuff that's desperately in need of getting done.

What irks me are all the little inconvenient happenings that screw up the schedule. Like a writing conference I would not have missed for the world, that was piles of fun and a wonderful time. And kept me from writing for about three weeks with any sort of consistency as I prepared, made swag, traveled, decompressed afterward... And there are the small issues of hubs health messing with what he's capable of doing. So totally not his fault. But kids still need to get to lessons, the house still needs to be cleaned etc, etc, and while I'm doing his job, his job is getting done. Mine is not.

So when I get a royalty check, and it's smaller than I had hoped and he says why haven't you had a release lately, I want to...yes. I'll say it. I want to rip his arm off and beat him with the bloody stump. Only then he'd have another injury he wouldn't be able to work around....

P.S. don't get me wrong. I'm not blaming him for anything, and more than I am saying I would have forgone GayRomLit so I could stay home and get more writing done. He can't help it. He does the best he can, and I have so very many things to be grateful for where he is concerned. I just wish, for a little while, nothing would "come up" that interferes with MY TIME. damnit!

My Life is Chaos

You think I'm exaggerating, of course. Most people do. I'm not. How else can you explain how a conversation that starts with hubs saying: "Honey, I think it's time to get a cell phone.", and ends with my living room torn apart, me without reliable Internet access for a month and the entire family descending on the old couch tearing it apart one slice of fabric and padding at a time. If not chaos, then what?

Bad star alignment?

Poor luck?

An elaborate practical joke?

I know it's not insufficient planning. Hubs plans everything out precisely. It isn't his fault the universe throws eight year olds, in-laws, and Microsoft operating systems at him willy-nilly.

Each step in the progression from ordering a cell phone to the current state of affairs happened so logically. Get the cell phone. Transfer the land line over, use it as the Internet hotspot for the house and shave fifty bucks off the phone/Internet bill. Logical.

Format the computers first. No sense hooking virus-riddled computers up to this new system. Logical. 250 Microsoft patches to download first. Wait....can't do that without the phone since there is no more Internet. Then the computers without a cd drive, the the one without a wifi capability, and the idea to move the big office table out of the corner....

Well. While we are moving furniture anyway, why not get the big screen TV and the Wii out of the bedroom finally. I'm all for that. I don't really need kids bouncing on the bed playing Wii at ungodly hours of the morning anyway. But then, the loom has to move from the living room to the basement, which means the old couch we no longer want has to go to make room for the loom. Logical.

That leaves us without a couch, but we can always take the stained fabric off the frame, cut down the arms and replace the padding with some pillows....you see? This is how it happens. Every time. What the hell?

And I wake up one morning realizing I'm three weeks behind in edits, it's my turn to blog and no one has mowed the lawn in six weeks. And half way through the insanity, I had to find a part time job so we could pay the bills.

I thought at some point, all this was supposed to get easier. Maybe I should just give up, toss my inhibitions to the wind and dance naked in the moonlight; offer all this up to the god of chaos. At least I'd be having fun, and maybe, get in better shape....

Now, some art I drew, because it makes me happy, and happy is better than chaotic.