Back from my Break

Upon our return

My husband and I arrived to four cats with varying demeanors: the Little Girl (Chloe) throwing herself at me, Chuckie wandering around in circles, Me-Me appearing and creeping off to sulk again, and Girlie-Girl saying “meh”. Cats don’t take kindly to change, it seems, and these four are no exception.

Then time to unpack and rest. I tend to rest heavily when I get back from a vacation, being one of those people who need a vacation from their vacation. Maybe I’m not much different than the cats.

This morning

What I see at my work station in the living room

The cats are back to normal — as normal as they’ll ever be. It’s a lot like having four space aliens living in the house thinking things that won’t make sense to humans. Unless it’s “food”, “pet me”, or the like.

I’m sitting in my usual place, on the loveseat at a computer desk. This is where I write my blog, do work, surf the internet, etc.

We’re drinking morning coffee listening to Herb Alpert, a staple from my childhood. (Richard lets me control the music because he says I’ve been exposed to more types of music. I would argue that I’m more adventurous — hey, here’s some Icelandic metal music!)

I’m still relaxed. That massage really helped. So did getting out without a face mask (US guidelines: no longer needed if vaccinated). Getting out in general. No longer feeling trapped. Feeling normal.

Now I have to appreciate what’s been given back to me.

Now a word from you:

What is the activity you have done/will do when you are off lockdown, free of COVID, able to travel again? Tell me in the comments.

Day 23 Lenten Meditation: Freedom

I highly doubt the person at the Unitarian Universalist Church who created these daily meditations counted on COVID-19 and social isolation. For the sake of our fellow humans, we have forsaken our freedom to congregate in groups and socialize in mass events. Freedom, it seems, is defined by not having it.

In these days, we realize that freedom has a cost. Those who speak about the military say “Freedom is not always free”. What they’re missing is that freedom is never free. Freedom to congregate in the days of Novel Coronavirus means the virus will spread faster. Freedom of choice at the supermarket leaves us bewildered. And freedom to choose weapons that can kill tens of people in minutes costs society many more innocent lives.

If we have freedom, we have responsibility to others. A free market economy requires corporate responsibility to customers and workers, which doesn’t always happen, thus the need for laws. The freedom to bear arms requires responsibility to keep those guns from the hands of children, which sadly fails too many times. We do not handle our freedoms well.

I hadn’t expected this to be such a somber reflection. We usually talk about freedom in lofty terms in the US, leaving the costs of freedom on the shoulders of soldiers who fight for American interests. But we all have a responsibility to make decisions for the whole about how much freedom we should allow.

Writing vs being a writer

I ran into a quote from Alex Haley, author of Roots, that I wish I could find again. It pointed out that it was better to love writing than to love being a writer, because when you love being a writer, you’re in love with the trappings of fame and money.

And that’s what happened to me — I fell in love with chasing publication, with chasing a vision of fame. And, not finding it, I wanted to let my writing go.

I’m finally starting to get back into writing again. Just in time to go on a trip where I’m not going to get much done.

I’m still working on a short story, Hands, about one of my characters in Prodigies. It’s a background story, one of those “what influenced this character” ideas, but it also reflects some of today’s issues with white nationalism. I have the bare bones all written (ok, mostly written) and put together into a Word file, and I now have to smooth and develop and finesse it. A lot like sitting over a finished first draft of a novel, but shorter. I’ve already written another from Prodigies, although it’s more of a character sketch, called Tanabata.

Short stories aren’t as “sexy” as novels. They don’t become national best-sellers, and they don’t make money. But they get my name out there, and they can give little drops of affirmation.

I’m also packing up for a road trip — by train. It’s my annual moulage gig for New York Hope. I think I’ve mentioned this before. But train travel is fun for writing — either in the observation lounge where the scenery passes by, or in the sleeper car.