Navigating Solutions and Darkness

You found the things that make a man?" "Yes!" "How did you find out what they were?" The Wintersmith proudly told her about the children, while Tiffany breathed carefully, forcing herself to relax. His logic was very…logical. After all, if a carrot and two pieces of coal can make a heap of snow a snowman, then a big bucket of salts and gases and metal should certainly make him a human. It made…sense. At least, sense to the Wintersmith. "But, you see, you need to know the whole song," said Tiffany. "It is mostly only about what humans are made of. It isn't about what humans are." "There were some things that I could not find," said the Wintersmith. "They made no sense. They had no substance." "Yes," said Tiffany, nodding sadly. "The last three lines, I expect, which are the whole point. I'm really sorry about that." "But I will find them," said the Wintersmith. "I will!" &

So I got home from the vet's and was immediately hit with a combination of bone-deep exhaustion, depression and paranoia. While the two former items may be combated by sinking into a deep, thankless sleep punctuated by various nightmares, the latter puts you in a state of hyper-awareness and your body basically refuses to relax even a little bit. So... you know, fun. Something every therapist has remarked on is my self awareness. Somehow, it slows down the effects of my brain being bonkers (with stuff like hypersensitivity). Unfortunately, it also means that the paranoia train travelling full speed westwards meets the rationality train travelling full speed eastwards. And not being content with colliding, these two trains then continue to ram into each other like excitable billy goats. Or wildebeest. Fun. On a lighter note, I got to administer cat medicine via needle-less syringe, so that was actually quite fun. (Not the part where the kitten jumped in surprise and scra

Sometimes I find myself grateful for the strangest things.  I found myself grateful that, only a short while ago, someone stopped talking to me. They claimed that I was taking my "hatred of men" out on them, even though I never once initiated a conversation on a controversial topic. When they actively solicited my opinion, knowing already that it's not going to be some ego-cushioning slaves-and-grapes fantasy, I'm not sure what else they expected. When they themselves said the words, "You know I don't have a leg to stand on in this argument," I'm not sure what they were looking for.  If you don't have the facts, and you don't have the research, and you already know you're on the wrong side of this argument, what do you expect from me in that moment? To say that I am, in the face of all evidence, wrong? That they're right, or great, or good?  Man, I don't know. I'm just grateful that they went away, and took the

The lies spread out  Rooted deep upholding  A strong, strong tree/ Planted Years in advance In a spring  I slumbered through A summer I was blind to/ O How the lies they flourished  In the face of trustful sleep  But O Farmer, Farmer Farmer of lies/ Did you think Trespassing w ould be so easy  For the dogs slept summer's heat  Away In the house/ Sheltered quiet  And sated/ But you h ave wakened them  Now they chafe  At chains unseen/ Torn 'twixt Duty and red mists descending  Howling their fury  Under a watchful moon They chafe and bide  O Weaver, Weaver Weaver of lies  Your tapestry is poor Its colours washed out Frayed threads praying That the world may never  Take o ne step closer  They'd see your tales  Sport broken spines  They'd know the jelly Like ooze of scum beneath  O Mason, Mason Builder of castles  Of Deception suspended  Amongst the clouds/ Don't you see  Your work hurtle  To the ground/ A ball  Of molten deri

First they came for the spark The twinkle in my eye  Reflecting off what I saw  Deep within a soul I called my own  Then they came For the interesting man They stripped him of his sheen Merciless in their duty/ They Came for him/ And I let them They came for his love His sincerity/ His laughter They mocked his existence I dared not speak up  They came for the soldier  For reliability/ For warmth  For all that was left/ Just the cold  Cold rain on my skin  And a memory I guarded fierce  Behind lips sewn into silence  They came for the ancient tree They came for his spine  They broke me and I sat  Helpless by/ Fearing what they  Would come for next  Then they came for him This time I marched with them  We took away the man  Left only the monster  And you/ You stood by And you watched him die 

On November 1, 2018, I made a spur of the moment decision to do Nanowrimo, barely 3 hours before Day 1 was due to end. And as toxic as Nano can be, I'm glad I did it this year. Because not only did I win, but I also made considerable progress on a brand new novel - one I believe is viable and shows much potential. Once again, however, I'm reminded of the exact meaning of the words "Rough draft." The book is far from finished, and involves some writing that is so terrible that I can't even consider showing it to other people.  So no, Nano doesn't end with November. December requires me to write an additional 25,000 words or how many ever is required to finish the book. January will hopefully call for revision and the second draft.  And in the meantime, I have never had so much fun in a long time as I have had writing this novel. 😘😘