Hold on to what is good even if it is a handful of earth.
Hold on to what you believe even if it is a tree which stands by itself.
Hold on to what you must do even if it is a long way from here.
Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go.
Hold on to my hand even when I have gone away from you.
- Pueblo Blessing
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Saturday, Mar. 01, 2008 - 8:41 p.m.
WARNING!!!! if you know me personally, you may read my diary, but if you do, you take the chance of hearing things you don't want to know, misunderstanding what I've written and being hurt by it. If you are unsure if it is ok to read, save yourself and me the grief and heartache, and ask first!!! Please note that this is a DIARY, ie my subjective feelings, hearsay, suppositions, and outpourings of ranting of the moment. It does not represent objective news, the whole of what I think of a topic or someone, or even a thought-out representation of any of the above. Keep that in mind. Thanks. * Here is a Diary Etiquette Read Me.
Wenchie waxes dismal
Oh my god.
I haven't been here for ages.
And now it appears that my friendly blue and yellow background... so diaryish, has been taken over by some horrid black and grey with white writing corporate theme. How depressing.
How can one write an entry here without it being about Halloween or sounding like Poe??
Well, I am the "happy mommy" of my kiddo now, and I think I need at therapist. Or a new me. (this has nothing to do with the color scheme and strict corporate layout I am writing in)....
I just am down on myself.
About everything.
Losing patience with the kiddo when he isn't really being bad, just being little. Losing patience with the dog when she isn't really being bad, just being a dog.
My personality I cannot trust. That can go from bubbling and happy to sharp and critical or incensed and ranting in mere moments. My personality that can be fun and chatty with strangers, but that becomes sullen and quiet, or just horribly horribly complainingly mundane, with people I know and love.
Down on my body, and how I have been letting it go. I haven't even gained much weight. I just am not fit like I used to be. I tried to do one pullup from an overhead bar tonight and felt muscles pull. I stood against a wall to measure my height and was unable to put my head, neck or shoulders back against it. I actually had a 14 yr old push on my shoulders to try and shove my spine straighter. I feel saggy around the middle, and just generally unattractive.
Down on my career. It is funny, cuz I was worrying that I wouldn't have any work if I took six months off for parental leave, but actually, I have had work all along (ie I was contacted for work after my leave during the leave), and right now I have probably OVERbooked work for March and April. But it is not new work I am excited about. It is educational texts, and series where they are obliged to hire me. Unfortunately at least one of the series is ending. I can look back five years and I was doing maybe four to six series. Now I am doing one. I was doing 3-5 color picturebooks in a year. Now I haven't done one in English since 2003 (and the publisher was horrid so I wouldn't work for them again), and the last one in French was 2006... and it isn't selling so great. Maybe because it is about a guy who tries to kill his dog. The library sheet on it WARNS parents about it, and their sensitive children. ah well. Actually, I TOOK the job because it was a nice change from the sweet candy shit I so often do. I guess I can't blame anyone else. Anyways, I feel like I am stagnating. No, going backwards.
Technology. I am on a picturebook artists' list, and so many are using InDesign, Cintic monitors, making book previews in iMovie, doing all their work in digital, or scanning in their work using $1500 scanners and printing it out using $1500 printers (which need to be replaced every three years of course). I just can't keep up. Or maybe I don't want to. I don't feel excited about technology. I feel depressed about it.
Ideas. all these people with projects and ideas of their own. Book projects. Save the world projects. Open libraries in Tanzania projects. Work with anaemic underweight single teen mothers and overweight polyamourous polysexual erotic dancers projects. Movie projects. Cartooning projects. I just want to get the dishes washed, the dog walked, the kid to bed, and sleep. I may have never had an imagination, actually. Let alone the personality to drive a project, to get people working together, to raise funds.
I compare myself with everyone and everything. The backflipping spina bifida teenager in a wheelchair who has drive and determination and inspires everyone. The gruff musician interviewed on the radio who has inpired seven decades of younger peers, and is really the sweetest person to work with. The writer who pens novels of heart and poetic word, translated into twenty languages and gives a brilliant interview. The people down the street whose kids are in daycare and karate and seem to be in a happy together mature couple, probably having interesting mature intellectual conversations and mature interesting great sex after the kids go to sleep. Anyways, I always come out as undereducated, underdeveloped, emotionally indisciplined, socially inept and acerbic, and quite frankly, just a failure.
And people weirdly enough write me all the time to say how lucky my kid is to have such a great cool mom. Yeah right.
Thank god he isn't old enough to compare me yet. It will happen.
And then I'll be damned.
But then I am already damned. By myself.
haha, isn't it no wonder i don't want to meet anyone? To try again? I feel whiny and difficult and unattractive.
And, hey, if I were Dangerspouse, I would make this funny.
But I'm not. So I didn't.
I am just blathering.
Cuz this is the only online space I feel I can do so.
And hey, no one who read me is even here anymore.
cheers
wenchie.
the dismal
(god, don't you just HATE this new blackgrey orangeline Diaryland theme?!!!)
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previous meanderings - future past
Goodbye Michael. May your next life be kinder to you. - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Taking Care of Your Cows - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Saint Joseph robs the cradle and eats spaghetti - Sunday, Jun. 14, 2009
sticky notes and broken irises - Friday, Jun. 12, 2009
The FOODCOMMANDER - Monday, Jun. 08, 2009
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