I have started three blog posts this last week which were quickly shoved aside due to lack of interest on my part. I found them boring and forced. I am in a bit of a writing slump and was trying to start anything that would break through it to become something actually readable. I looked back over the year and found a few other blog posts which were started, then discarded. I decided to actually take a look at each of these possible posts, revisit them and see if any of them are salvageable. I believe that at least one of them is. Maybe by going over my thoughts on why I started to write certain blogs it will remind me of what I wanted to say and help me find the words.
On January 8th of last year I wrote this:
I don't know if it was because I was an overly imaginative child or just a freak, but I can remember writing dialog in my head from an early age. I would be going through life as if I were in a book or a movie. Sometimes it drove me crazy and I would try to make it go away. That stupid voice inside my head would never shut up! Just my subconscious working overtime, not weird voices or anything sinister. I don't know if I ever learned to live in the "now" because I was always trying to be two steps ahead and plotting out the next scene. When I was in the fourth grade I had this wonderful young teacher named Mrs. Kiriu. She was a pretty Asian woman who made that year magical. It was 1976, so the Bicentennial was a big deal. We made homemade bread, root beer and butter. We also did a lot of writing in class. She was the first person to say that I had a talent for writing. It is funny how one kind word or positive comment can make a huge impact. I started keeping a journal, writing poetry and planning my novel. My novel would be about being adopted. I always felt that being adopted made me different and the last thing I wanted to be in grade school was different. If you were different people noticed and laughed at you. Elementary school kids can be cruel. I learned to blend in and be part of the pack, but always felt on the outside fringe. It never mattered if I was well liked, got good grades or did passably good in sports--I was the freak on the inside reporting life in my head as it went by. I wanted to believe that I was special and would do great things, but no matter how special I tried to be I felt overly ordinary and never quite good enough. Writing was something that I felt I just might be really good at. It was a way to express myself. I have always been better at putting my feelings on paper than trying to verbalize them.
Writing was a big thing for me in jr. high, high school and even the year of college that I did right after high school. I didn't get a whole lot of guidance from the counselor in high school. I am sure most of it was my fault for being a daydreamer who was overly boy crazy. I think he advised me to get married and be a housewife. My parents couldn't afford college and I knew absolutely nothing about scholarships or financial aid. I didn't have the focus and the drive that many of my friends had. I was content with the plan my parents gave me of going to Clark College in Vancouver. My creative writing teacher at Clark loved my work, I was also a reporter for the college newspaper and things were going well. I had started writing for the school newspaper in jr. high and thought maybe journalism would be a good avenue for me. I learned quickly that I didn't have the cut throat personality that it took to be a successful journalist.
And there it ended. I'm not sure why. This is an unedited draft, but it wasn't terrible. It might be the fact that the spring of 1985 while writing in college, I had one of the most painful times in my life. For whatever reason, this is as far as that blog entry made it. It has sat in cyberspace for a year with the word "draft" attached to it. It was never sent out into the world like other blog posts.
On the 21st of April there is a "draft" called Invisible. I must have really felt invisible because there is not one word written. If I wrote anything at all except for the title, I deleted it. Not sure what was going through my head. Invisible in itself says a lot. Curiously enough on the same exact day there is another title only post that says "Kitten". Unlike "Invisible", I do remember exactly what "Kitten" was going to be about. In April I found out that an ex-neighbor was going to be in White Salmon doing a public Psychic Reading event at the grange. My aunt showed me the article in the newspaper and was mildly curious. When I saw the name of the kid it brought back memories. We lived in a house on the main street that runs through White Salmon. It was a three story older house that was divided into two living spaces. My family rented the top two stories and the bottom story was an apartment that had a wooden porch. There were three kids who lived next to us. A girl who was a year older than me, a boy who was a year younger and then another boy who was three. That was pretty young compared to my advanced seven years. My cat had kittens and they lived in a bed on our covered porch. The porch wrapped around the side of the house and looked out over the side yard a story below. One day when we were gone the three year old neighbor boy took three of the the five kittens and dropped them over the side of the porch. The kittens were young and miraculously two survived. One did not. It hit the wooden porch below and died. I was devastated. That was my only memory of this three year old boy until he showed up in the paper forty years later as a psychic medium who sees ghosts. He says it began when he was a small child living in a haunted house. Was the house next to me haunted? What possessed him to throw my kittens off of a porch? I was tempted to buy the expensive ticket to see him speak just so that I could ask these questions. Of course then I rethought it and decided that I would sound like a raving lunatic and saved my money. I do wonder though.
On May 20th I decided that the half finished novel on my computer was boring and needed a complete revamp if it was ever going to be anything more than a file that takes up space on my hard drive. I thought of a new beginning for it and a way to make it seem more viable. I started writing it as a blog post and only got one paragraph done. This is fictional--I have never been tied up in the trunk of a car before!
They say that curiosity killed the cat. Like most people, I have heard that phrase my entire life. I was born curious and never really thought of it as a bad thing until now. I have learned a lot through curiosity, but have also uncovered a few things that probably would have been better left alone. My newest escapade has landed me in the trunk of a car with a knot on the back of my head. I should be freaking out, but I am unnaturally calm. I'm not sure if it is shock or acceptance. It better not be acceptance, I am not ready to die. I am only 42 years old, I have a family who needs me and too many things left to do in life. I can't believe how trusting I am--curiosity is one thing, but add naivety and empathy and that seems to make me a big target.
My so called novel is still taking up space on my hard drive and need more work than ever as part of it is rewritten in the first person but the majority of it isn't. It is still half finished and in serious need of some time and TLC. It is tough to say whether or not it will get the attention it needs in 2014. I started a project with my writing group that they felt was a more interesting start to a novel.
In August I started one called "Bad Dog Blues". Like others it didn't get far at all. It simply starts:
In this world of Reality TV,
Yes, that is really how far it got. I know what I wanted to write about. I just wanted to do some research and haven't found the time. I was upset because of the preconceived notions that people have about Pit Bulls. I happen to love my very sweet Pit Bull who has a big heart and loves everyone. The looks and comments that people aim towards him are completely unfair. They don't know him. It is discrimination and shows me a little more how certain people feel when they are judged by their outer appearance. People like to generalize groups of people due to their looks, their social status, education, sexual preference, religious beliefs or whatever box they want to put them into. Every dog, just like every person, has their own unique personality and worth. Generalizing, discriminating, having perceptions pertaining to appearances are hurtful. Those with narrow views are also hurting themselves because they are missing out on some pretty worthwhile dogs, people or whatever. Again, just a rant that sometimes goes through my head when I see my dog hated because of his breed, me dismissed because of my age and/or weight and other perfectly awesome people shut down because they don't fit a certain standard that is supposed to be acceptable. I'm not sure if any of that made sense. Maybe that is why the blog post didn't get very far!
September found me wanting to rant again with a post that was going to be titled "Missing the Simple Life". Not sure where it was going to go from it's first paragraph since that is as far as it got, but this is how it started:
I am a fan of social media when it is used in a positive manner such as keeping in touch with friends and family, sharing pictures and marketing for your business. Networking is imperative these days to making it in any business. Everyone is connected. What I'm not a fan of is cyber bullying, scam artists and hateful ranting on public sites. Hiding behind a computer should not automatically make you immune to being a decent human being. Anonymous or not, you should still have morals and boundaries. I am constantly amazed at the ignorance, arrogance and blatant poison that people unleash on the world through chat rooms, public forums and sometimes on your own personal pages.
I do get passionate when trying to defend others. Again, not sure why I was up in arms or what my message that day was going to be. Things did seem a lot less complicated before everyone was connected through the internet. Though it is a wonderful thing, it can be used for so much bad as well.
Those were my only unfinished drafts until yesterday when I started three and then found them all lacking. The first one was titled "Finding Balance in 2014".
It seems that the first thing I am really going to have to work on this year is balance. I know I've worked on it before, but life is constantly changing so staying balanced is often a challenge for me. I have not worked full time in over twenty years. It is crazy to realize that it has been that long. Now that I am working more and adding a steady paycheck I need to think about how to best use my time outside of work. It is difficult when you have so many interests and dozens of options. I hate giving anything up but may have to so that I don't fall flat on my face.
I started off the year belonging to two bunco groups, two book groups, a writing group, a meditation group and a paranormal group. I also am on the board for TOPSoccer, am the program manager for OCHS boys soccer and have a family and three dogs. I am attempting to head up the planning of my 30 year class reunion. If all goes as planned it will be a group effort and I will just be doing some delegating. Learning to delegate was one of the best lessons I've ever learned. My family is currently juggling cars since we have four drivers in the house and two somewhat economical cars and a gas guzzling truck. No wonder I get overwhelmed at times. I need to work on time management, reorganizing my priorities and being more organized when it comes to cooking, cleaning and the mundane things that have to stay as part of my life whether I find them interesting or not.
It seemed pretty boring to anyone but me. Yes, it would be helpful for me to go through what I do, what I don't do, what I need to change, what I want to keep and yada, yada, yada. It seems pretty boring to anyone who would have to listen. Maybe some things just need to be worked out in my own head.
After boring myself with that one I tried another one. I wanted to be funny again. I like it when I can write things that make people laugh. This one wasn't even given a title, so it was doomed from the start:
I think I lost my sense of humor recently. I have been looking everywhere for it, but it isn't in any of the usual places. I hate taking myself seriously. I guess I am supposed to--I just turned 48 which is just a number. I need to get over the fact that it is definitely middle aged. My early 40's didn't bug me; I felt a little more adultish but not ancient. I realize that 48 isn't ancient by any means, but it is alarmingly close to 50. I have high hopes for my 50's, but what about my 60's, 70's and 80's. I need to start getting a little more serious about those healthy changes I always daydream about making. My reading glasses have gone from helpful to necessary, I have occasional short hot flashes which are irritating and I'm starting to get a little more forgetful. It would be interesting to know how many times I actually put deodorant on in the morning. I can never remember if I did--I bet there are mornings when I put it on three times. I guess over doing it is better than not putting any on.
On New Year's Eve I befriended a very nice tribe of guys in their early 20's. They were amazingly sweet in their acceptance of my desire to try out their drinking game. It was a roleplaying game similar to Dungeons and Dragons, only it was made specifically for drinking. I wasn't wearing my glasses so I couldn't read the cards without help. I actually understood it more after a few drinks.
Again, the path of this one is a mystery.
I made one last feeble attempt yesterday when I became overwhelmed with the number of books that I have on reaching my goals. Again, no title:
My name is Lana Luke and I am addicted to Non-Fiction Self-Help books. I think I am going through some kind of mid-life crisis. I have some great books that I am sure would be very helpful in enlightening me on how to meet my many goals if I would just open them! Heck, if I would just take a stack of them and lift them twenty times per day with each arm I would probably get a decent work out. I love reading. I just happen to love reading really good Fictional books with colorful characters who sweep me away to a different world where I can traipse around for awhile to forget what is piling up in my own world. If I open one of the Non-Fiction books it is going to want me to actually do something that will make a change. I am great at making big changes for a day or two. I then fall back into my old, comfortable habits because I am too busy to actually have to think about implementing those changes daily.
This brings me to today. I woke up and decided to exorcise these unfinished drafts. I would put them all together and maybe, just maybe get an idea for my next blog post. So as random as it is--this is it. All I have for you today. Maybe tomorrow will be more productive.
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