I’ve been having trouble focusing enough to write this post, and part of the problem is that I always try to juggle too many things at once. It’s hard to simplify the situation after getting bogged down in it, because clearing specific items away requires focus, and I’m usually bouncing from one thing to another. It’s not even that my day is busy, it’s that my mind is constantly busy. I don’t always think about it this way, but every single thing I know is unfinished or needs my attention is like a tiny (or sometimes not so tiny) mental drain. It’s actually more noticeable when one of those little mental weights lifts, because I’m pretty used to all of that being there.
I hadn’t realized how worried I was about my pets being prepared for winter until I made time to renovate my lizard tank with an extra lamp and climbing log, and I suddenly felt lighter. It wasn’t urgent, so I let it wait, and I thought that was the smarter thing to do so I could focus on work, but just knowing that it needed to be done had been distracting me more than I guessed. I had a similar concern about my fish tank, which has needed a filter with stronger flow for a while. Again, not an urgent tank, but I got it swapped out today and I feel a lot better.
I’ve started trying to designate at least one of those non-urgent mentally draining tasks per week, so I can cross them off and remove more distractions from my mental space. I think it’s working, and maybe I’ll post about some of them as I go along if I think they could help inspire anybody else.
I had a nice visit with my family last week, had a pleasant drive home, promptly got sick, and now I’m kinda recovering. Next month I get to do it all over again, because the major family-centered holidays are not distributed well. I’m still excited to see them again, though.
Today, I got the results of my sleep study, which basically said that I’m permanently jet-lagged because my internal clock disagrees with reality. It’s the downside of being a natural night-owl. I’ve always known that I sleep best around dawn, but I’ve never had a doctor straight up tell me to start going to bed later because it might improve the quality of my sleep, so that was refreshing and actually helpful. They’ve pretty much always insisted that, regardless of my inclinations, if I practiced good enough sleep hygiene I should be able to sleep from 11pm to 7am and then wake up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but that was literally never going to happen for me and I finally have official confirmation of that. Fortunately, she also said that I didn’t show any signs of sleep apnea. That at least means I’m not having trouble breathing every night, just when other things make it worse.
So, I’m going to shift my bedtime to 2:30am, on doctor’s orders. I’m pretty fine with that, honestly. I work better at night, so having an hour or so to myself before bed might be really good for my writing. Plus, about half of my pets are nocturnal, so they can keep me company while I work.
I did an overnight sleep study this week. It is very difficult to sleep with a mess of wires glued into your hair and wrapped around your torso, while an infra-red camera and a microphone record everything you do. I brought my computer with me, which was silly. I thought maybe I’d get some work done before sleeping, but I got neither work nor very much sleeping done. Still, it’s another step toward getting more restful sleep, hopefully.
I just finished reading Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman. It’s an older book, obviously, but this was the first time for me, and I loved it. The audiobook is very worth getting, if that’s a format you enjoy. The narrator gave a great performance, and each character has such a distinct voice. That’s surely due to both Gaiman’s writing and the narration, but it makes for a great listening experience.
I’ve been walking a lot more, lately. It seems kinda vital to take advantage of these last bits of nice weather before things get truly wintery and unpleasant. Walking is my favorite form of exercise, and it’s been recommended by a surprising number of successful writers throughout history as a form of meditation when inspiration is lagging. It’s peaceful, the scenery provides stimulation for the imagination, and moving around is generally pretty good for the whole system. I’ve known for a long time that people with ADHD in particular tend to have better focus when they get exercise, but it has to be somewhat consistent to be effective, and consistency is difficult when you’ve got ADHD. Somehow, though, I’ve managed to get something like a routine established.
There’s a beautiful bike path around a lake near my place, and I love going out there, even though my dogs absolutely lose their tiny minds at the sight of all the fat and insolent squirrels who taunt them from the sides of the trail. It takes us a lazy hour and a half to go around the lake, and I don’t usually spend the time specifically thinking about anything in particular. I think it’s been helping with my general mental clarity, which makes it easier to choose to keep going out, and to make choices about what to do with my time without getting overwhelmed. I’ve always unconsciously classified walking in pretty places as “the stuff I do when I should probably be doing the dishes or writing.”
That was not great. Jogging around the neighborhood will never be my thing, even if it might seem more efficient, or like a “better” form of exercise, or whatever other judgement I had in the back of my mind about the whole thing. It’s boring, it hurts, and my dogs would rather tie their leash into a bow around my legs than trot faithfully at my side. It just doesn’t work for me, but walking in a spot with some good trees and water does, and I can do it for a long time before I get bored or tired.
We’re often taught a very adversarial approach to exercising our bodies, but healthy movement really doesn’t have to be any kind of a punishment to be beneficial.
Well, this Halloween was our first in this neighborhood, and I learned that we don’t have very many kids around. Three very cute and well-disguised children showed up and took a few candies each, and then… Nothin’. Nobody else. So, I have a giant purple bowl with a cute spider on it that is still filled to the brim with candy. Oh, well. Such is my dreadful fate.
I am a little bummed that so few people got to admire my candle display on the waterfall, though. It wasn’t particularly impressive, but it was sparkly, and I enjoyed putting them out. I’m definitely gonna do more of that next year. I even used scented candles, because I have a lot of them, so the yard also smelled pretty. You’re welcome, neighbors.
Even though we didn’t get much traffic (or maybe partly because of that) it was super nice to just sit by the kitchen window and write with the pretty flickering candles outside in the garden. A little atmosphere never hurts when trying to get the creative juices flowing, and the sight of flames glowing in the night definitely has a certain emotional power to it. A lot of power, actually. Even a very tame bit of fire can transform an environment completely.
One thing I love about being at my boyfriend’s place is that he almost always has a candle burning, and that small flame instantly makes the space feel warm and welcoming and extra special, like it’s secluded from the outside world. Fire is comforting in a sort of primitive and instinctive way, and as someone who absolutely hates the cold, I can’t help loving all the homely little forms of fire. I used to toast marshmallows and read Nancy Drew books by the light of my grandparents’ hearth as a kid, and occasionally my grandpa would let me jab the glowing logs with a huge iron poker that was probably not entirely safe in my rather excitable hands. The only thing I was a tiny bit disappointed about in our new house, even though it’s a wonderful place, is that it doesn’t have a fireplace to read and write by.
It does have space for as many candles as I could possibly want, though, and I need to remember to pull some out the next time I’m feeling creatively stuck. The only way out of writer’s block is to write, but there’s nothing wrong with setting the mood while you do it.
Halloween is theoretically a spooky time, but let’s be real, it’s all just fun. People enjoy the little thrills, but mostly it’s an excuse to be creative and silly. Those thrills aren’t even really fear, they’re the excitement of being allowed to look at and celebrate things that are still slightly taboo. We’re not supposed to talk about death too lightly, except right now, when we can hang human skeletons and cute little ghosts from our trees. They’re even selling adorable little fake dog and lizard skeletons in every shop, although most of the time people might think it’s a little weird that I keep real ones in my office.
The most exciting things in life are often the things that have the capacity to be a little scary. That’s why we like roller-coasters, painfully spicy food, kinky sex, and sharing our artistic work in spite of the fairly legitimate terror of rejection and/or mockery. The people who seem to enjoy themselves the most fully are the ones who manage to do what they do in spite of the fear, even learning to embrace the fear, rather than because they had no fear to start with. It’s no fun without the thrill, or maybe there’s just less of a sense of triumph if we didn’t have to push through some discomfort to get to the goal.
I got pretty much nothing done last week, but I’m feeling much better now, so I’m looking forward to getting back in the swing of things. I tried to write this post yesterday, but it just turned into a jumbled mess, so here’s the short and sweet version:
Yesterday (Thursday) was national coming out day, and in that spirit I’ma remind y’all that I’m bisexual. Coming out and being visible is a privilege, and one that I don’t take for granted. It’s also important, because queer folks (who can do so safely) being visible is part of moving toward a culture where we don’t just assume that everyone is straight and cis. It’s a way of pushing back against our current culture where people can be fired and endangered because of who they are, and where people risk losing friends and family members because of who and how they love.
Anyone who thinks it’s unnecessary to share this information publicly should probably keep in mind that every time a straight cis person mentions their spouse in casual conversation, they’re doing something that many queer people cannot do without mentally calculating the very real risk of rejection or anger. Every time you go into a public bathroom and don’t worry about your safety, you’re doing something that many trans folks, including children, can’t do. Coming out isn’t a bid for attention. It’s just the constant act of swimming against the currents of a culture that fundamentally assumes we don’t exist, and often asserts that we shouldn’t exist. We’re essentially forced to do it, or allow ourselves to be erased. If you want it to not be a big deal, then fight homophobia and transphobia and all the other bigotry that makes the world unsafe for your queer neighbors, friends, and family members.