Musings

I want the Moonwalk to be over and done.

I want this because I have an urge to be creative, to make stuff, to write, to sew, to organise, to clear out. I don’t feel that I can focus on doing any of this because I’m terrified that I’ll (a) exhaust myself before the big night, (b) drop a box on my foot or similar and (c) I need to do Moonwalk related stuff like decide which snacks to take, organise transport, decorate bra, create play list for last few miles and so on.

My hairs needs more henna. It’s just a little too warm for leggings but not nearly hot enough for bare legs. Lacey patterned tights seem to be the answer but they seem to get holes really easily. Holey tights are part of my look sometimes. I do love outfit details that suddenly seem to startle. Like a perfect 1950s housewife look with a huge spider necklace. Can you buy fair trade, vegan, organic tights?

I’ve realised that my endless quest to discover my style is actually just that endless. People change all the time even if it’s just in very small ways and that includes me. Consequently what my style is will always be changing. I should embrace that change and not worry when my daily outfit choices revolve around half a dozen garments for a week or two.

I’ve been listening to The Red Hot Chili Peppers because just about every bass related thing I’ve read recently talks about what a big influence Flea was on them. One of the things I liked about Dear Heart when we were first dating was that he seemed to be the only person I knew who didn’t get the RHCP and couldn’t figure what all the fuss was about.

Photocopiers are really interesting things. I love all the hidden doors that one only discovers when the paper feed jams.

I’ve rather enjoyed rambling like this. I don’t know what any potential readers will make of it? Maybe the signifiers slide enough for them to muse as well.

Like writing a diary

I’ve been keeping a diary in some form of another since 1988. Most of them are stored in a printed diary for the year but I have some collections of entries that are written on pages ripped from other books (usually when I was somewhere and I forgot to take my diary with me).

For a big chunk of the last twenty years there is actually an entry for every single day. Sometimes more than one entry as I also have a few diaries where I’ve written random entries in addition to my regular entry. Generally speaking this was when I had issues that needed more space or privacy than I felt my diary gave them.

The diaries are punctuated with ticket stubs, deflated balloons, pressed flowers and other bits of ephemera.

I have entries written when I had glandular fever (I complain of being tired in every entry for the six months proceeding). Entries written while drunk (in one I’ve written every word twice). Entries where I wonder why I wasted so much time worrying about the trivial.

The entries that I find hardest to write are the days when something really exciting happens. A concert. A party. A big trip. A diary writer gets so much more practice examining the tiny details of daily routine and extracting pleasure from them that it’s had to find a way to express something bigger.

And similarly in this vein I write more when my life is stable. So during big chunks of my university years and the years following there are months with either no entries or just a few words here and there. These were probably some of the more interesting (although not always in a good way) times in my life. I was too busy experiencing life to write about it.

Likewise when my life seems to be running quite smoothly and I am not ridiculously busy I write four or five blog entries each week. I examine small daily details. Try to work out the best way to do routine tasks. I get hung up on what to wear or eat. I dramatise where it’s unnecessary. So when my hairdresser and I got mixed up over dates a few weeks ago (I arrived at her house for an appointment and it was all locked up) this would have become an entire post. Probably ending with some soul searching about hair and identity. Instead I was busy rushing off to make use of the spare time and move my job list along.

My blog is for public consumption. My diary for my memories. I’m always impressed when politicians publish their diaries which recount in details crisis after crisis. How do they find the time to run the country and keep a diary? I might not be cut out to be politicians but I enjoy blogging because I enjoy writing and just like the diary it’s written for me first, other readers second or never.

I'm a winner

You're probably wondering what the blurry screen shot above is all about. Well, I've completed the NaNoWriMo challenge. I just had my word count verified. I wrote a novel in a month. It might be complete nonsense but I did it.

Off to celebrate right now.

NaNoWriMo

As a child I wrote stories all the time or made up scenarios and got my toys to act them out. As teenager I wrote the opening pages of a hundred novels that never got any further. I wrote poetry full of teen angst. I wrote stories at school. I did a creative writing course during sixth form. I wrote an excellent short story for A Level English Language which scored an A and then…

Nothing. Maybe the odd poem here and there. Factual diary entries. Reports and press releases for work. No fiction though. Occasionally the idea for a story would occur to me and I’d think about it but I never even got as far as putting pen to paper.

This summer I began writing fiction again. It’s almost as if suddenly I’ve got things to write about. Like I opened up the stories floating around in the ether and they came running back to me. I don’t know if writing a blog has helped. Maybe. Maybe not.

I’ve got few things I’m working on. But those are going to be put aside during November. I have signed up for National Novel Writing Month. Between 1-30 November I will attempt to write a 50000 novel. Quantity is apparently more important than quality so I’m looking forward to seeing what forced creativity can do.

P.S. I’m really doing it so I can have one of those cute widgets on my blog letting everyone know how much I’ve churned out.