I know that I owe you a story about that New Years eve, twenty-five years ago. After I'd begun, it's only right that I finish that story.
I can't. At least, I can't just now.
Oh, I still love the man I ended up with at the end of that story. That's not the problem.
I can't because I need to get to bed on time since Nick has a plan for us to go to the Museum of Flight tomorrow with a friend. I'll need to drop Teddy off at a doggy daycare before that. I won't be able to sleep in. You really don't want to hear about my sleep issues. Someday, I could possibly tell that story. Maybe I won't. For right now, I have to tell you that following a set of rules regarding sleep is my simple solution, and add to that naps. I get by on my naps when I mess up. Since Nick is off from school all week for mid-winter break, I'm busier than usual, so I have to be careful not to stay up too late.
Here's the thing about going to bed at the same time every night - good books interfere. I'm listening to a good book. I have discovered Jodi Picoult! Oh man, I'm in the middle of 'House Rules,' already with my own hypothesis for the ending and everything. Plus, she has totally captured me regarding the Asperger's Syndrome. Wow! What a premise, to have a kid with Asperger's syndrome and a fetish for forensics somewhere near a murder site about when it happens. I'm not going to tell you how I think it will end. I could imagine three or four different endings but I have a favorite. It's sublime torture. The problem is that I want to keep listening to the CDs until I'm done. And that's not good for keeping to a regular schedule, or for writing for that matter. I seriously have trouble writing when my mind is so actively thinking about a piece of fiction I'm reading.
I think that Julia Cameron had it right when she said not to watch television or read for a couple of weeks to unleash your creativity. My poor brain might get so story-deprived that it could make up its own stories. A few days ago, I was between audio books and between paperbacks at the same time. Someone barely mentioned during a phone conversation how there are a bunch of people banging on doors, demanding to be let into random houses. Well, my head already had a story for that. It totally zippered with the story in my head that happened in the fury of my lost backpack and the people who came to my house to steal more stuff. Boy, I am tough in my fantasies. You should have seen me with these imaginary bullies. In the end, I had them hogtied with decorative duct tape. In fact, in my story, I had them hogtie each other with only one minor bullet wound to an arm in the process.
Maybe I should write this fantasy from beginning to end. In it, I give power to a middle-aged mom who looks pretty ordinary on the face of things. I'll bet most moms would surprise the world if the world came banging on her door when her kids were inside. Yup, don't get between the moose and her calf. I didn't have to be told that twice by the park ranger when we were in Alaska. I know that feeling and it is a position of power.
..........
There I go, flaking out and letting that duct tape story run in my head. Sorry. I'm back. Yeah, I think I'll tell you that story someday too, even if it isn't a real one. Do you mind?
Yup! It was decorative duct tape, the kind with black and orange flames on it. And I considered having them in their boxer shorts by the time we were done with them, face down on the concrete floor with their hands and feet tangled up in duct tape behind their backs. I guess there would be a little blood as well. The problem's going to be that one of these idiots is going to sue for pain and suffering. That always amazes me, that people robbing a 7-Eleven can sue because they slip on the wet floor and hurt themselves in the process. It amazes me that they can actually win.
So, I owe you a couple of stories. I'll probably make good on those promises at some point.
Thank you for listening, jb
I can't. At least, I can't just now.
Oh, I still love the man I ended up with at the end of that story. That's not the problem.
I can't because I need to get to bed on time since Nick has a plan for us to go to the Museum of Flight tomorrow with a friend. I'll need to drop Teddy off at a doggy daycare before that. I won't be able to sleep in. You really don't want to hear about my sleep issues. Someday, I could possibly tell that story. Maybe I won't. For right now, I have to tell you that following a set of rules regarding sleep is my simple solution, and add to that naps. I get by on my naps when I mess up. Since Nick is off from school all week for mid-winter break, I'm busier than usual, so I have to be careful not to stay up too late.
Here's the thing about going to bed at the same time every night - good books interfere. I'm listening to a good book. I have discovered Jodi Picoult! Oh man, I'm in the middle of 'House Rules,' already with my own hypothesis for the ending and everything. Plus, she has totally captured me regarding the Asperger's Syndrome. Wow! What a premise, to have a kid with Asperger's syndrome and a fetish for forensics somewhere near a murder site about when it happens. I'm not going to tell you how I think it will end. I could imagine three or four different endings but I have a favorite. It's sublime torture. The problem is that I want to keep listening to the CDs until I'm done. And that's not good for keeping to a regular schedule, or for writing for that matter. I seriously have trouble writing when my mind is so actively thinking about a piece of fiction I'm reading.
I think that Julia Cameron had it right when she said not to watch television or read for a couple of weeks to unleash your creativity. My poor brain might get so story-deprived that it could make up its own stories. A few days ago, I was between audio books and between paperbacks at the same time. Someone barely mentioned during a phone conversation how there are a bunch of people banging on doors, demanding to be let into random houses. Well, my head already had a story for that. It totally zippered with the story in my head that happened in the fury of my lost backpack and the people who came to my house to steal more stuff. Boy, I am tough in my fantasies. You should have seen me with these imaginary bullies. In the end, I had them hogtied with decorative duct tape. In fact, in my story, I had them hogtie each other with only one minor bullet wound to an arm in the process.
Maybe I should write this fantasy from beginning to end. In it, I give power to a middle-aged mom who looks pretty ordinary on the face of things. I'll bet most moms would surprise the world if the world came banging on her door when her kids were inside. Yup, don't get between the moose and her calf. I didn't have to be told that twice by the park ranger when we were in Alaska. I know that feeling and it is a position of power.
..........
There I go, flaking out and letting that duct tape story run in my head. Sorry. I'm back. Yeah, I think I'll tell you that story someday too, even if it isn't a real one. Do you mind?
Yup! It was decorative duct tape, the kind with black and orange flames on it. And I considered having them in their boxer shorts by the time we were done with them, face down on the concrete floor with their hands and feet tangled up in duct tape behind their backs. I guess there would be a little blood as well. The problem's going to be that one of these idiots is going to sue for pain and suffering. That always amazes me, that people robbing a 7-Eleven can sue because they slip on the wet floor and hurt themselves in the process. It amazes me that they can actually win.
So, I owe you a couple of stories. I'll probably make good on those promises at some point.
Thank you for listening, jb
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