Reflections on Writing

As usual for Reflections posts, can’t sleep, mind running through something too intensely to let me doze back off. I ran into an old friend today (Yay!) and she asked me how the writing’s going. That’s actually a really good question. For all the thousands upon thousands of hours of my life I’ve spent writing, for all the binders and piles and milk-crates of pages of longhand writing cluttering my physical environment and the equivalent on my computer, for being so oriented towards writing that I even dream in multiple levels with one of them observing and analysing the other…

Continue reading

Reflections on reflections

I don’t know why I ever bother trying to figure out what’s going on in my head, really, when all I have to do is sit down and start writing something.  Anything.  And just let it go in the direction it wants.  There’s generally an answer at the end. This was proven to me again yesterday.  As I said, I’ve been having trouble concentrating on any one thing for long.  I went for a walk, came home thinking about autumn leaves and times of rest, and ended up writing a blog post that basically answered my confusion about the trouble…

Continue reading

Reflections on a fall walk

Being totally unable to concentrate on what I should be working on, I gave up, found my mp3 player, and went for a walk. Until the last year and a half or so, when I started to feel the draining effects of the depression, I used to very much enjoy walking.  I could get lost in the music and the pleasure of my own body moving, just wandering around the city.  It’s a pattern reaching all the way back to when I was 17, when just before we left my dad, I would take my walkman and a couple of…

Continue reading

Wee-hour Reflections on Cats

This is based on various thoughts I was having at three a.m. So.  I’m lying here in a queen sized bed, in the middle of the night.  Beside me is Sean, sound asleep, and as usual, an earthquake probably wouldn’t wake him up. A few minutes ago, Loki jumped up on the bed and started demanding my attention.  He’s been with me virtually all of his 13 years or so, and I can pretty much pet him in my sleep — in fact, I’m told I have — but he was restless as well.  He curled up against my stomach…

Continue reading