So only a few days after submitting my music school applications my netbook self-destructed. I kind of forgot about the internet cafe next door to me and so waited patiently for a friend to put ubuntu on a usb stick so i could retrieve my data and restore. but now that is done (though the original problem still exists so i can’t move the lid or it reboots and will corrupt the boot file again…) i got all my data safely off and have something larger than 3″ to type on again. But soon my sister will be sending me the new powerbook i’ve ordered through berklee so I will have a new toy to write music on! yay!
It has been so long since I have posted I don’t know where to start. I have been writing in notebooks like crazy since my computer died and it’s been totally nostalgic of junior high when I filled 16 notebooks with Darkwing Duck fanfic. My novel is going really well and I am learning a ton about myself in the process; my fear of anger and violence that is making all my characters sound like goodie two shoes, the true extent of my obsession with hair, my love of explaining things well, and a ton about my experience of romance, sexuality and beauty. In order to get to know my main characters, I am writing almost a full prequel about how they met- 19 years before the main story starts, and it is fascinating. I seem to have unearthed my particular style of falling in love and I think it’s awesome, and in perfect time for dating when I get to Brighton. But realizing everyone would not relate to falling in love this way is making the romances I’m writing extra fun to play with. technique-wise, I am simultaneously challenged by being able to express myself with precision and in expanding beyond my own truths to build variety into my story. I love this work.
And it is really the first thing in my life that I have truly practiced. I never used to write drafts or even revise, really. I was so sensitive to my own criticism that I would create something that given my innate talents was reasonably good compared to average, and then I would leave it alone and pretend I didn’t care if I could have made it better given more work (and self-honesty). If the thing I created didn’t even meet those standards, it got thrown away. But never have I just written to try and get whatever morsel I was aiming to express down on the page the best I could. Most of what I write reads like mediocre fanfic, and for the first time in my life I’m fine with that, because every now and then a phrase or image or line is so close to that spark of inspiration flitting behind my mind that I feel blessed with even the amount of talent I have- and for the first time I am not wishing I was a prodigy… I am looking forward to the crafting of this extension of myself. I think this shift is going to make all the difference in my creative endeavors, and whether I can make it as a professional musician. But even just in the moment, it gives me untold pleasure.
On the food and weight front I’ve been having a similar journey. I gained back about 7 pounds since hitting 180. I was definitely shaken up by my success and, actually, how easy it was. All I had to do was do things that felt great and then I would feel even greater and then it snowballed into super great time. But when I hit 180 and my body really began to feel so much like how it used to when I was fit… I guess I wasn’t quite ready and I back pedaled. Completely stopped being active and started eating crap again… it was bizarre. Then I tried to bully myself into doing my program again, telling myself that if I didn’t do it now, I wouldn’t be where I wanted when school started. It was ingeniously framed as motivational and empowering, but really it was just fear and future-tripping… black and white. I had forgotten about the joy I was feeling every day, in the present, at living an active and healthy life and feeling pretty every day. Well, thank the goddess, I finally remembered and have found my style again, and again it is easy. I bet that the next time it gets hard again, it will be because my old conditioning has slowly morphed my pleasure-oriented motivations into fear-and-shame-oriented self-bullying again. I am going to keep a look out for that, because it just doesn’t work, and it’s stressful as all hell. So the weight I regained is mostly gone and I’m on my way back down again, but that was a rough six weeks. Actually, writing about my philosophy through designing a culture in my novel has really helped me. As if a fictional group of people I designed somehow externally validate how I want to live my own life. Go figure. Maybe that’s what makes me a sci-fi/fantasy type person. Fiction is like distilled reality for me. Those of you who understand this will understand. And with that tautology, I end for now.