I’m on a writing retreat in KC, and although I haven’t written anything yet, I got to watch fireworks from the 35th floor of my hotel.
Today is writing, followed by going to the cat cafe to pet cats. Then maybe more writing. We shall see.
I’m at a crucial place in my story, a big reveal, and then chaos. It’s a bit intimidating to write. But I will make it.
It is the Fourth of July in the United States, and I do not feel like celebrating.
The US has become a pustulant place, the home of ugly prejudices and uglier dispositions. The White House flies huge flags as its latest jingoism while it tramples the rights of people and secures tax cuts for the richest. Traitors are pardoned while legal citizens are threatened with deportation.
We were never great for many of the people in the world: those we enslaved, those we colonized, those of color or of different sexual orientations. I know this; but the cruelty was decried as an exception. Now it is highlighted.
I always wondered whether the US would collapse eventually. It feels like it’s collapsing now. Our international reputation is in tatters; other countries are rooting for our demise. I don’t blame them — we have claimed to be the world’s leader but now we’re the world bully.
I do not celebrate today.
I am finally back to writing. The current book, which has the same name as the previous book I was having trouble writing (Hiding in Plain Sight), is flowing nicely so far and is enjoyable to write. No feeling like I’m drifting along killing time. So far.
I am using the usual “plantsing” method for writing this book. I have a rough plot outline in Scrivener that I follow — it tells me what to expect in the chapter. Then I fill in the action from there. I feel more secure in this outline so far. I might get to the point where I wish I was writing a novella, or I beat my head against the wall looking for plot, but it hasn’t happened yet.
I like Alice Johnson as a protagonist. An anthropology grad student, a little absorbed in her folk tales, perhaps a little naive, she seems the perfect protagonist to contrast with the centuries-old yet new to relationships William. I think there’s enough to keep going.
Wish me luck.
I think anxiety gets better with age. After all, once someone gets older, they’ve seen everything. They’ve survived everything. They’re no longer thrown into the unknown.
What could I give up for the sake of harmony? Arguments. These are the things that most disturb my otherwise harmonious life, yet I have trouble letting go of arguments.
In my opinion, I’m right, this is important, and you better back down. Simple, right? Real life doesn’t work that way. My husband insists he’s right, and not only is he wrong, but a disaster will ensue if we follow his direction. So we argue.
What if I gave in and said, “you’re right?” We’d probably die. I’m not kidding — there was the time with stacking the duraflame logs in the fireplace when they clearly had a carbon monoxide warning not to do that.
Not all our arguments are life-threatening, though. I suppose I could give in for some of those.
My life is not very exciting. I don’t have any big vacations to get excited about; no momentous occasions. We didn’t have a big party for my 60th, and that’s the last milestone before I retire in about 5 years. The events of my life are mundane, and I have seen them before. I’m going to Lincoln, NE for an internship visit tomorrow. I will go to New York Hope in late July/early August (somewhere in there). I will probably go to Kansas City for Thanksgiving. There’s just nothing that I’m that excited about.
I think it might be my age. At my age (61), things can get pretty mellow. Life is not a rollercoaster ride anymore. It’s more like a road trip to an accustomed place — nice, but not new grounds. The terrain is pretty even, the travel smooth, the scenery familiar.
The thing I’m most looking forward to is getting more writing done on my latest book. I’ve finally found a book that wants to be written, and I’m having fun with it. Not a bad thing to look forward to.
I was born with a high-frequency hearing loss. It didn’t manifest the way people typically think of when they think about hearing loss. I could hear most sounds, but those in the high frequencies of human speech — p, t, and d; f, s, and x were indistinguishable, especially in a loud room. My family thought I was just not listening.
I was not diagnosed until college, when I had access to an audiology lab on campus. There my hearing loss came out. High frequency losses weren’t treatable by hearing aids back then, and the audiologist said I was compensating well, so there was nothing to be done at the time.
By ‘compensating well’, they meant reading lips, which I really don’t do well. They meant asking people to repeat themselves. I do that very well. They meant sitting out of conversations because I couldn’t hear them, or nodding and playing along. I do that a lot.
My hearing has gotten worse. The rest of the frequencies are catching up with me because of age. I now don’t hear in crowded spaces at all, and have trouble catching up with social events. I tend to avoid social events because of this. It causes me pain sitting in conversations and missing things. It’s like being left out even when sitting in a group.
I am facing a social activity today with great reluctance. Too many people to pay attention to, too noisy a space. I will have to go and pretend to hear, and then say ‘that was fun’ even though it was a trial for me. We haven’t gotten past “we need to get you a hearing test” in discussions about getting me hearing aids. I am so frustrated.
I don’t have a single favorite genre of music. As a Boomer, one of my favorites is 70s Singer-songwriter music, because it’s what I grew up with. It was soundtrack music that I remember listening to on the car radio or on the little transistor radio I got for my birthday one year. I get rather nostalgic while listening to it. 80s music followed me throughout college, and I have a fondness for that too.
Folk music became an interest to me in college, when I had a friend who got me started on that. Pirated tapes and my walkman became my companions while walking. I especially liked folk revival like Steeleye Span and Renaissance. I listened to a lot of Celtic folk as well, having gone to Milwaukee’s Irishfest one year to listen to DeDannan and Capercaillie live.
I developed a liking for Baroque music at the same time. Since then, I’ve branched out to classical music in general and modern classical/classical adjacent in particular. I have become enamored of Minimalism, such as Philip Glass and Max Richter. I listen to a lot of Olafur Arnalds and Johann Johannson.
Now and again I listen to swing music. It’s a great genre on the road; not so great for naptime. Occasionally I listen to funk music or gamelan just because. I’m an eclectic listener. Sometimes I surprise myself with what I want to hear. Apple Music has been a godsend for my musical tastes because it contains a lot of everything, and I can listen on its subscription-based model without having to buy everything.
I don’t go on long vacations often. My husband and I go yearly to Starved Rock State Park for Christmas, sometimes a couple days for a writing retreat, a couple days for a conference (which I count as vacations because I go somewhere). Long vacations don’t happen much.
Once, however, my husband and I journeyed to Chicago. We traveled by Amtrak to Chicago over a Thanksgiving break and spent a few days there. We stayed at the Allerton, a nice old Chicago hotel, roamed around the Mile, ate in the Walnut Room at what used to be Marshall Fields (this is a Chicago joke; nobody calls it Macy’s). Visited Water Tower Place, walked along the river walk, and had Thanksgiving dinner at a nice restaurant overlooking Navy Pier. We went to a Broadway show (in Chicago; it happens), visited the Museum of Science and Industry, and stopped by a BIG Apple Store. It was Chicago for tourists.
The Chicago I explored in the mid-Eighties didn’t exist by then. I once dated someone from Chicago, and we spent weekends with two weekend bus passes and $30 in pocket change. We would wander around the city, eat ethnic restaurant food, and explore, largely on foot. The places we went were long since closed, or I would have taken Richard to Meyer’s Deli for the wondrous European candies or that Persian restaurant nearby. But my Chicago trip was superlative for the Christmas atmosphere and the sights.
I’m on the road in Kansas City, visiting interns. I’ll be back to write more tomorrow…
Words Like Me 