After four days of not writing my blog, I realize that I really might be finished. I’ll be leaving this up until it expires in a month or two while I glean from it things I want to keep, and letting it become a free blog (if I keep it at all).
The past two years have been primarily me putting a good face on things, living in a kind of stasis, unconsciously waiting things out. I think that might be true of many other people all over the world because of Covid and, maybe, because of politics. We have vaccines, some people don’t take them. We elected a president with a plan who’s accomplished a lot more than the news gives him credit for. It’s fucked up but I can’ fix it. Not only that, I’m not going to wake up some morning and find it’s all over. A few evenings ago, I posted a poorly written rant about Covid in response to what I thought was a poorly expressed interview by a doctor. As I read that interview, a little mechanism inside me snapped and said, “There’s no fix to this shit. Move on, sweet cheeks.” My rant elicited blowback I never expected. I began wondering why I’d even written it since I already know that my opinions about all this are completely useless and irrelevant. I don’t want to push anyone’s buttons or touch anyone’s nerves. So why did I write it?
As often happens with me, stuff was working itself out on a back burner. Not every important thing in our lives happens in the front of our consciousness. That plus the fall that could have been so much worse and turning 70? What, do I have all the time in the world? I don’t. An K95 mask and a vaccine aren’t going to protect me from death’s welcoming door. It was a huge wake-up call once I put everything together. This has been a wonderful neighborhood and I’ve loved it, but it’s time for me to go.
A long long long time ago (1998?) I wanted badly to go to Colorado. I packed my dog, got in my car, headed up the hill to Alpine from San Diego and the water pump went out. I coasted down to town — all the way home, in fact (standard transmissions are awesome) and had the car hauled to the shop which was in walking distance from my house. The next day I went to school where I was teaching. That was when I got a personal email address: mindwanderweg. Wanderweg is German for hiking trail. My dream as I set out on that trip had been hiking with my dog in the Colorado mountains. But the only Colorado trails I was going to hike that year were in my mind. So, mindwanderweg. I’m not going physically anywhere now, either, so…
I’m in a similar place. For a couple of years I’ve had a story in the back of my mind (and the deeper recesses of the hard drive on my laptop). It has moved forward and it’s time to work. It’s historical fiction set in the early 13th century in Italy. I don’t write bodice rippers. I do hardcore, legit research and this is a situation where all I really know about the story is the story line and something about my characters (I can create that) but the world in which they live? I have a lot to learn. 🙂
Good luck everyone. Keep your chins up. Stay well and hopeful. ❤