What My Life Looks Like
For a variety of reasons too complicated yet boring to go into, my father decided the day before yesterday (at 11:00 p.m.) to come stay with me until sometime in January. He booked his and my mom's flight for . . . TODAY. See Jackson Pollock painting at left.
That is what my life looks like right now.
My father is blind, so getting ready for him is a little more complicated yet boring than getting ready for . . . oh, Cliff Huxtable. All my leaves? Must be picked up because they represent a slippery possibility when you can't see said leaves on the driveway. Children's toys? Ditto. Not to mention for THAT length of time, I had to go buy a new bed for him yesterday. While at the bed store, the man selling me said bed (and promising me delivery today, thank the Mattress Gods!), asked, "Why aren't you working today?"
I was so tired and shell-shocked that I didn't spin off my usual lie: "I am an actuary, but I took a personal day." Instead, I said, "Um . . . I'm a writer, I work from home."
"Really? What do you write?"
I thought of stating "Nonfiction books on the plight of the tapeworm"--but opted for "novels." To which Mattress Man said, "How interesting."
I refer you to Pollock painting.
I "get"--in many complicated yet boring ways--why I do what I do. I simply can't function in an office. It sucks the life out of me. I like blogging in my bathrobe. I like writing with Django Reinhardt playing on y iPod. And most days, I even love that Demon Baby occasionally jumps on me and licks my face. But there's something about being a working writer--however that looks for you--that is very messy, at least in my world. It's fitting writing in here and there in bursts. It's manuscripts spitting out of the printer with Post-in words and reminders all over the desk. It's mothering four children while keeping up (HA!) with the housework while plotting my next book while waiting in the dentist's office for the kids to get their check-ups.
I have come to this huge paradigm shift. The myth--especially for women--of having it all . . . it's a myth. Balance? I have no idea what that even looks like. I "think" it looks like the life of Oprah or the life of Rachel Ray . . . or the life of the Hollywood "It" mom of the moment. But really? Oprah and Rachel Ray don't have kids, and the Hollywood It mom has a staff of six. It looks serene, but that's achieved with smoke and mirrors. Every magazine that promises balance to me just heaps more guilt and bullshit on those of us who really know that balance probably is akin to Big Foot. Just a myth.
BUT, I do have it all. I live life in HUGE COLORFUL GULPS. I love most days. I feel joy most days, in between the heavy sighing that sometimes goes on (and one of my New Year's Resolutions was to STOP SIGHING and I only have two months left to work on that!). My life looks like someone vomited paint on a canvas. I have it all--if I am willing to accept my canvas.
That's what my life looks like.
How about yours?
P.S. Feel free to post what YOUR life LOOKS like on your own blog and comment with a link.
38 comments:
((Hugs))
I'm going to light my E candle for you today. Right after I clean my desk so I don't start a fire. ;-)
I'll come back later with a link, too.
Hey Heather:
Great. I would love to see yours.
And really? I know how incredibly lucky I am to have my parents both living and so on. I love having them. The short notice? Um . . . THAT I could have done without . . . I have some SERIOUS housework to do today. LOL!
E
I'm a Libra so I guess if you believe in that sort of thing I'm geared toward balance by nature. I need some sort of structure to my day, some sort of order, though I realize it's mostly artificial. If I'm ever fortunate enough to write fulltime, I'll have to slot a certain number of hours out for work and treat it like any other job. That's the way I'll have to do it. Otherwise, I'll never get anything done. I crave balance and perspective, more like a Da Vinci painting than a Pollock.
Jude:
Da Vinci . . . a masterpiece. ;-)
E
I posted my photo but have no idea how to do links in comments. It's at http://www.richmondwriter.blogspot.com/
The one thing I didn't say on my blog because my mother reads it is...one time Mother came to my house and said to me, "Laura you have no right to have a career. Your job is to take care of the kids and clean the house, it's selfish of you to waste your time writing." I was so hurt and angry for a long time after that. People are complicated. These are the same parents who forced me to go to college so I could have a career. In my mother's words, "you don't want to be dependent on a man to take care of you."
I'm more like a Picasso or even a Pollack. I'm sure that sometimes my life was cut into pieces and glued back together wrong.
Anyway, about that wonderful flexibility us freelance writers have. You mean, like, you have a 4:15 phone interview, but you have to pick up your son at school at 3:30 after his guitar lesson, but his guitar teacher was running late, and your son doesn't every, like, TURN ON THE DAMNED CELL PHONE he carries with him, so you sit out in your car in the school parking lot waiting and waiting and wondering, How exactly am I going to make it back home in time for this interview?????
Wow, Erica! You make my life sound easier, though it doesn't feel easy. Love your HUGE COLORFUL GULPS metaphor.
Richmond, big hugs. Just smile and say "Yes, Mom." Then let her see you roll your eyes.
Like Mark, my life if more of a Picasso. I'd love it to be more like Georgia O'Keefe, but that didn't happen. I'm all over the place. I don't have kids at home, and my house still isn't clean. That's low on my priority list.
Richmond:
That would be very hurtful. My parents can't imagine my being any other way. Though once in a while my dad comments on my kitchen being messy and says I'll make my children sick. THAT was lovely. LOL!
E
Mark:
YES, that wonderful flexibility. LOL!
E
Oh Edie . . . yes, a Georgia O'Keefe would be wonderful. :-)
E
Nothing comes to mind right away to describe my life. I'll have to think on that.
I will say good luck to you having them for two months. My dad is coming here for two months starting in January, but we rented him a small apartment in town. I love him and I'm really looking forward to him being here, but I think I would kill him after two weeks.
What a wise post! Especially the last paragraph. Maybe another word for "balance" is "survival."
I can't even visualize what you face as a woman writer with children and all your other responsibilities, but I admire you a lot. --Joe.
melanie:
I don't have that option--but that's a really cool thing--ahving him there but also him having his own space. :-)
E
Joe:
As I've often shared, I used to think I wanted an attic room like Jo in Little Women. But it's unrealistic. And I like to recall Erma Bombeck a lot. You know, they are little once . . . and someday maybe my house will be neat and tidy . . . but then I will miss the crayon marks on the wall. So I try to go with it.
E
I love that: Huge colorful gulps. That is an awesome description.
Mine would look exhausted: gray and white. For no good reason, except I think I'm having a relapse (been going on for about six months but I've been trying to ignore it away). I haven't been eating right, a lot because I've been cooking soft food for DH's dental issues, and cooking for DH because he's home and I want to eat with him. I feel like my body is just broken and done, aches all over incessantly, but I'm starting a juice fast today. Hopefully, that will kick me back into the living.
PS: Love Pollock.
We..ll. At least the painting has pretty, positive, pastel colors!
My painting might look something like that only in strictly black and white because lately a few things have gone really right...but many more have gone really wrong!
And um, richmond writer...do we share a mother? :0
Happy visiting Erica! Will think peaceful thoughts for your household.
spy:
If you don't take care of yourself, I'm going to have to come there and take care of you myself!!
And I travel with Demon Baby--so you don't want that.
Trust me.
E
lainey:
Once I get the cleaning done and the beds arrive, I think I'll be cool.
E
You mean balance is supposed to mean, like, on a daily or moment to moment basis? I work on balance in enormous chunks. Meaning -- one week I do zero housework and only write and do necessary kid stuff. One week I do alittle of everything. One week I might do nothing. One week I do it all.
In the end? I'm dizzy as hell but it all evens out.
My life is like one of those pictures with all the millions of little pieces. You think it's one thing, but it's something else. You're close and you think you know what it is, you step back and think you know. The only person who really knows is the person who created it, or had to deal with the creation.
Oh yep, that would be me.
Ooh, I like Amy's idea.
Erica, I meant to say that at the end of my other post. Clearly that may not be an option for you. Our condo is about 600 square feet so we're literally on top of each other. Fortunately the dollar still goes pretty far down here.
Hey E, I feel for ya on the hectic spurt going on. On the inside, I'm a beach today. But all around me is clutter waiting to be picked up. At least I'm in a writing routine again, and don't even touch the house till afternoon these days. Like Edie, it's at the bottom of my list. I arrange my schedule around what's going on with my family; like all of us do. The important stuff at the top, the other sticks to the bottom rungs. My problem is when there's so much to do around the holidays, I spin my wheels for a few days. What a waste of time. Hoping to avoid that this year, we'll see.
Love the actuary bit meshed with the tapeworm plight. S'very creative and giggle inducing.
I feel you on the parental love man. It's overwhelming to be in charge of the ones that have been in charge of us for so long. You wanna be everything they have been to you, but you know you never can, so you compensate by swallowing a few Valium and pretend to walk on sunshine for as long as humanly possible. Makes me sigh just thinking about it.
And don't stop the sighing!! That's a lifesaver. Where would we be without our self important sighs???
My life you ask? Here you go....:D
Lol. Housework on a deadline can drive me over the edge. My wishes were for you not to lose your mind while preparing your home. :-)
And I'm still looking for a picture. Having a hard time finding something that says "Tired, Stomach Virus, and Nanowrimo Longhand writing syndrome."
amy:
Great analogy!!!
E
Melanie:
My parents are trying to sell their house (in this economy!) so they can move here next year. Then they can have their own little place.
E
ladonna:
Well, Oldest and her friend are coming December 16 for five weeks, so that adds more. The Holiday Spin Cycle.
E
realm:
Sighing . . . good for the soul? Cool new perspective!!!
E
Heather:
If you find that picture, that MAY look like my twin, minus the longhand whole November novel thing.
E
And would people believe that Jackson Pollock's drippy paint style was done with intent? LOL
Since you put it artfully, my life is a lot like a Rachel Ruysch still life - part of me fresh and alive mixed with withering and dried up.
Have a nice visit with your parents!
Kath:
Oh . . . I like that visual.
E
my life - it looks like a brand new painting every day... except some days it is a pen and ink, a pencil sketch, a sculpture, crayon, the Mona Lisa, architectural blueprint... you get the idea.
What I can count on is that no matter what I think is going to happen, something else does. The only snag I hit is oldest daughter NEEDS to have her day be scheduled... freaks out when things do not go as planned. Makes it exciting some days :)
I've learned that there can be schedule inside of chaos... if you choose to be flexible about schedule. I've learned to make the most of my day no matter what happens, and also to be immobile about things that have to be scheduled and cannot be moved. I am no stranger to giving a talk to people in my life who do not stick to a given schedule. Sometimes it cannot be helped, but at least they can be in communication about it. Some days I am not popular :)
FF here. Good luck with the parental visit and the oldest and her friend. Don't give up sighing. It's a great stress reliever. For you. It's make other people crazy. But that's their problem! ;-)
ewoh:
Something new every day is a great way to approach life.
E
Hi FF:
My father sighs. I think it's genetic.
E
You are awesome! My dad is fully sighted, and if my parents decided at the last minute to stay with me for months, I'd change my name and move to a cabin in the woods.
I once worked with a woman 15 years older than me, who profusely apologized for the "Woman's Movement". She said, "Now you guys have to have jobs, and do everything else, too! Didn't see that one coming."
It's wonderful, but a crapload of work. But didn't you feel cool telling the mattress man you're a writer? :)
My kids are 21 and 25. I decided long ago that the house wasn't as important as the kids.
Now it seems its not as important as the dogs, parrot and cat...they rule. I need a picture of pecking order...and I think I'm on the bottom...or maybe just above the fish.
Question: I was asked to look at a manuscript for someone. Its really ..um...not very well written. Loaded with "tell not show", thousands of exclamation marks,dialog without tags so I don't know who's speaking, etc. How do I tell him without slicing up every page? He's such a nice guy and I want to encourage him.
Robin:
LOL! Yes . . . we get to do it ALL now.
And cabin in the woods . . . not an option. Demon Baby would chase bears.
E
Aimless:
When I encounter something that is what I consider a disaster, my usual tact is to mark up about five pages, showing them some of the issues, and then send them a link to maybe four or five good writing resources online, and suggest a critique group or a night school class, with the encourager: "There's a really good story here, but you just need to learn some writing basics . . . and once you do that . . . you'll be amazed at what you can do with this."
I am quite dimplomatic! :-)
E
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