I sit in my air-conditioned condo with only a light on in the kitchen, while the sun supplied the rest. It’s quiet, not even a TV program on, it’s the perfect end to a pretty good long weekend. In fact it’s a good end to a so-so sort of week. It started with my condo, and the one below it, nearly getting flooded with clear water after a part popped clean off. The toilet had gurgled for quite a few days and I waited for my brother to come by and take a look at it. With all due respect to my big brother, the lesson learned is consult the caretaker if a toilet does not make its traditional noises.
Luckily, I knew the location of my shut off valve and had quick thinking neighbours mop up the water with nearly every towel I own, plus a few from someone else. The downstairs neighbours, a lovely married couple, had a few drips but nothing else. If I have to pat myself on the back for one particular accomplishment it’s relegating the panic to the background. Walk around my place and one will never know it happened save for the new filler valve in my toilet. Now if my tooth can get repaired in a similarly easy fashion I can finally chew with both sides of my mouth. (Incident number two in my rather interesting week.)
Amid all this household melodrama, my entries float around in various stages. I have word documents with drafts, some written in a notebook, while others live as drafts in WordPress itself. It’s a good sign I take my writing seriously if I want to wait until something good gets written and revised rather than just posting it to add to the internet white noise. Starting this blog, now getting up to 90 entries, proved both therapeutic and scary. By therapeutic I mean just having a creative outlet. I can’t knit, or do something equally crafty, but I can craft words. Plus people have suggested I start a blog again and write.
It’s scary. I write about light and fluffy stuff, but one time on another blog one acquaintance blasted me in the comments for constantly writing about this one particular actor. I felt quietly stunned not noticing my output dried up, along with everything else during that particular time in my life. It’s not just that person stopping me, but a number of factors leading me to push things aside in an effort to appear normal.
I learned ‘acting normal’ leads to a very dry existence. I didn’t know a rut existed until I found myself in it. It started with running, then deciding to go back to school, finally moving to my own place, and discovering the very quirks I often hid away made me a very good library technician if I didn’t panic or feel afraid. I may write about seeing The Avengers for the umpteenth time, or the books I read, or something equally as nerdy, but it’s a victory. For my 90th entry I simply wanted to acknowledge and celebrate.