A blockage unreal but effective

I want to write, but things stop me.

Distractions make my writing bad. I read good fiction and the words flow out of me, but then there are news articles and blogs to read, e-mails and fantasy novels that taint the rhythm of my own words, and I don't know how I can write except alone in a dim room, and when do I have that except on cloudy weekdays when the laundry's all done? The cat needs fed, the dog has to pee, chicken must be thawed for dinner, I need some excercise but I'm so tired, I'm so tired.

There is such joy and pain and guilt and absurdity in our lives; I want to write about it. The characters who live in my head are based on us, though, on people we know and love and hate and miss and wish we could forget, and I have this terrible fear that someone I know will recognize herself in a story and hate me for it. Like that will happen. Like my stories are being published all over the place. Like I finish stories.

So I don't write. I will regret, later, not having written, but I don't write. And my stories are dying. I wonder sometimes if I am squandering my only chance to set them down.

Posted byMJ at 2:02 PM 1 comments  

He was only thinking of my health, of course.

When my throat started feeling a bit sore almost two weeks ago I ignored it, figuring it would either go away quickly or turn into a cold. After more than a week with no improvement I became concerned that I was spreading strep to everyone I met, so I made an appointment to see my doctor. The quick strep test she performed in the office was negative, but since the test was not foolproof and my symptoms were consistent with strep, she gave me a prescription for antibiotics just to be sure-- and damned if those antibiotics aren't the biggest pills I've ever swallowed in my life. It seems like some kind of mean joke, giving horse pills to a person complaining of a sore throat.

My sweetheart darling dear husband, he of the neverending dick jokes, responded to my lament with, "They'll fit, ask me how I know."

Then, later: "If you need me to I can push them down for you."

Earlier in the week, when I mentioned my sore throat, he offered to "swab it out" for me, and when I laughed and told him I would not be giving any blowjobs while my throat hurt, he accused me of being too good to accept his gesture of kindness.

"I'm just trying to do something nice for you!"

Posted byMJ at 3:34 PM 0 comments