to do

Okay, at mid-life, I finally think I've managed to figure out how I can use 'to do' lists. It's not (for me) a matter of going from top to bottom, but rather a matter of choosing what I feel like doing at that particular time.

As long as I'm careful with the list, and the urgent priorities, it should be cool. And it keeps me in a better psychological space. I get to pretend I have freedom. Oh joy oh bliss. Oh rapture unforeseen.

writing

I'm finding that it evokes desires in me. My characters are real enough to me now (or enough of me is in them) that I yearn for what they yearn.

It's odd, my sense of impatience is increased as I write. I want to be in the experience, have it appear on the page as though I was reading it, or living it, not writing it. I am always afraid that the slow pace of my writing may leach some of the ideas whirling through my head before I get them down. Though often the slower pace allows me to get a lovely expression or idea.

It's an odd process.

It's why I get so frustrated with A____ when he never finishes anything - he doesn't really understand writing unless he's actually writing.

The whole process is weird.

impatience

impatience is a false guide but a true gauge

writing

I'm in the bar, writing. Getting ready for a critique session, and, based on the last session, I think I've gotten in a really good scene. Of course I'm worried about the quality of the prose, since I'm hammering it out. but I think it's good overall.

And I'm missing R____. being here, thinking of her. Thinking of how it could be, but how it's not.

I've been chatting with the other R, and it's nice, because it is all so relaxed between us. A bit of flirtation, but no real tension. I wouldn't go so far to say it's harmless, but we are well away from the cliff's edge.

And on another note:
Everything seems so far away, the path is so long that it somehow almost seems pointless to walk it. But I must begin somewhere, but I still need to prepare. But if I take to long, well, then I fear I may never start. So perhaps a bungled start is better than none at all.

work

Right now I'm thinking that all of this stuff. My desires, my anguish is nothing other than an attempt to avoid work.

Or at least distract me from the inevitability of it.

But it's probably not

drinking and nature

Was out for drinks with L____ on Friday. She's been doing the internet dating thing with some moderate success and she told me about that. I told her about what's been going on with R____ lately, barring the news I received on Saturday.

Anyway, I was talking about counselling with the wife, and how I had to decide what I'd be willing to live with. I thought I could accept simple and sincere passion and desire. L____'s comment? "And you can continue to deny your nature."

ouch.

So what is my nature. I want to spend time discovering this, but it seems a waste of time, since there are other 'more' important things to do, work, writing, reading. and when I do say to myself, 'okay, now' i'm just fucking tired. Part of my subconciousness' plan I guess. Maybe the counselling will help, if I ever get that off the ground