(Obligatory opener:) How long has it even been since I last posted? A whole term in Oregon. That's terrible. We've done loads of cool stuff here and I've not posted about any of it. And now we're heading home in a week.
I've really enjoyed my time in the Pacific Northwest. So many trees; lovely springtime weather. Our apartment faces a forest - two big living-room windows looking out onto huge evergreens, and relatively smaller-looking leafed trees. Some days I just stand in the middle of the room and look out the windows and pretend I live in a modern architectural wonder of a house that's built into and around the forest. I'll miss that. I'll miss the way the sun falls through the gaps in the canopy, and the way the patches of light that make it to the ground sway with the breeze. Yep. I'll definitely miss that. Ireland doesn't have nearly enough trees. If I had the power of a god, I'd make ancient forests appear on every field in Ireland. Still. I am looking forward to going home.
I don't know what else to say. I suppose my thoughts have turned from American housewifey type things to homeless job seeker in Dublin. Not so much looking forward to that. And I bought a budgeting program today and, boy, is grown-up stuff frightening. Mostly because I have no idea how much money comes in every month, but my budget has over 2,500 outgoing every month (and that's not including saving for rainy days), and since I've never made money even closely resembling that, it scares me. It just seems like way too much for two people and a dog every single month. So it's a bit stressful. But I suppose I should find out how much comes in every month before I really start to freak out.
What else on the changing of the tide? I suppose I'm just procrastinating now. I do actually have a lot of organising to do - to get ready for the movers coming next week. Right at the moment I'm sorting out what to keep, what to throw out and what to donate.
Oh. I've been off sugar for a six weeks now. I do think its helping with mood swings and energy levels. I could be deluding myself, but I do feel like things have been more stable. But I also haven't been worrying about writing in those six weeks, so I don't know if the stress of being too hard on myself for not being more like Brandon Sanderson (who writes about 3 books a year) was at play as well. Seriously, if there's a line up of absolutely terrible role models for me to pick, I will pick the worst one, and be the hardest ever on myself when I'm not living up to those standards. I actually don't think I'm cut out to be a writer because nothing is ever good enough for me, but I also have the problem that I'd rather play games than spend the long hours to get it good enough. And, I was given 4 years of free time and I didn't manage to get one book finished. I've endlessly tinkered with 1, written 1, got half way through another and actually completely finished a short story (I had motivation on that one - it was for a competition and I had a deadline). So I'm just going to stop and get an office job and bemoan my lack of writerdom. And that will be fine. And all the people who didn't believe in me (which is probably just myself) can laugh and say, "I knew you'd never do it."
Wow. This post has taken a turn for the bitter. But I have learned something. I have no faith in myself that I can actually write, or be a writer. I think it's the second part of that that's important, because I do actually believe that my stories are good (I absolutely love the story in Artificer), but I don't think I actually write them well. And therein lies my problem. So perhaps I should focus on learning the craft of writing rather than tweaking a story that already works. I need a workbook. Actually, I think I need a writers' group. One that actually meets to critique writing and that expects members to have new things every week.
Now so now. Thank you theraputic journal. I should remember to visit you more often.
