Random thoughts from my morning meditation. That equally randomly I thought I would post today.
It is November 16. The high today is supposed to be 50, and we are expecting snow tomorrow - and there are three white butterflies dancing around my back yard right now.
I really need to find someone to edit my YA books - someone who works for cheap or free! - and a support group of a few friends to push me to work on my children's picture books. I am currently dealing with some seasonal depression that has taken as it's cause the fact that my mainstream books sell nothing - while those old sex books I don't pay any attention to perk happily along making a certain amount of money for me every month without a bit of effort on my part.
Why is it that I feel like I don't want to write sex books? I mean, I think it's the - I want to be respected for my mind, not just my sexy body - sorta thing. That said, maybe I need to wrap my mind around - this is my gift, to have had a sex life not many can boast of, and to share it. I kinda get tired of having a million things about me I'd like to share and all anyone wants to hear about is what its like to be bisexual or be in a nice, working poly relationship or long term open marriage. Look, I'm not really interested in how often you have sex with your husband and in what position, how come you think you can ask about my sex life?
It never ceases to amaze me - it really does - that people like me. That I am popular - online. I mean, I bet there aren't three people who went to school with me who even remember I exist. Or care. I said this out loud, and the hubby reminded me that I was a very successful, popular, well liked exotic dancer. In my tiny little world of the time, I was sort of a star. Well, it astounded me then and it still does. I don't think it is being humble, so much as having been raised by someone who told me endlessly how stupid, ugly, and worthless I was and that if people "really" knew me they would hate me. Something deep inside me still believes all that (and probably always will) and finds it endlessly surprising that people like me.
I have a family of choice. It's that time of year again. When we are endlessly bombarded with the pretend happy nuclear family message, generally coupled with the message that you could have this if you spend enough money on Christmas presents. That makes people like myself, who had horrible abusive evil cruel families who found the holidays a great time to get the whole family together for a guilt and hatred celebration (last time my mothers whole brood was together, she poisoned us. I still have my doubts has to how "accidental" it really was - the real accident was probably that any of us survived), well, that makes us feel even more horrible than anything "family" related usually does. It's no wonder Christmas is the time of the most suicides. I am SO glad I don't spend the holidays with my blood relations.
Anyhow - that wasn't my point. My point is I got to thinking that I actually have a better family than any big, wonderful extended (and blood related) family - because I have a family of choice. I have dear friends who chose to share their lives with me - not from any obligation but because they simply love me and I love them and we feel like we are family. And it doesn't cost a dime, by the way. No one is counting up what they got last year and calculating what they'll spend this year. I doubt anyone is feeling obligated to do anything they don't want to do. Our celebrations are a long way from traditional, but we have them.
I've been trying for two days to "man-up" and get back to my Nano novel in spite of the fact I've suddenly decided I hate it, hate everyone in it (except maybe the monster and the kitten), and it's a total waste of my time. You know I realized this morning it is easier for me to "man-up" to go feed and water horses in 40 degree below zero wind chill, than to sit down and stare at that novel and try to choke out another 30,000 words?
Okay, I may now be veering into procrastination...