As a writer, I know there is one question that will be asked of me time and time again: why do I write? I always found this question a little strange. It made me wonder why everyone wasn’t being questioned about why they do whatever it is that they do. But regardless, I finally have an answer. It popped into my head one day as I was mulling how I’d awoken over in my head.
March 6th, 2013 I woke up thinking the opening lines to the next draft of my current work in progress. I’d had it planned and plotted for a month and a half but hadn’t had the means to start writing yet. It was driving me insane. I got on Twitter March 5th (when I got a chance to go on the computer) and read tons of tweets. It was toxic; poisoned me. I then realized how badly I wanted to start writing. How not being able to write was driving me insane.
So it just happened that I woke up the next morning thinking about the beginning lines of said WIP. I figured in a couple hours to write. And I did. And it was awesome!
Why do I write? I believe I have three answers for this, each just as relevant and true as the other.
On the second month of Hotel Hell,
My strange fate gave to me…
Blue fuzzy slippers,
Our vehicle broke down,
And mum got laid off.
Month 2: January 2013
I can only guess out of his sanity challenged state, Lucky adopted some fuzzy children. Plush suits him, don’t you think? The munchkins now have a cuddle bunny guardian, which they think is adorable as well as the rest of us.
Introspection is a word one might not hear that often.
It means; “to inspect one’s own thoughts and feelings”.
I’ve had a lot of time to think recently.
Before we moved here, into what I’ve affectionately dubbed ‘hotel hell’, due to changing and freeing circumstances, I had begun to figure myself out. Little bit by little bit.
But until I was marooned in this place I call my own personal hell (for a good reason), I hadn’t felt such a clean slate. Such a difference. Such a change.
And I realized, I didn’t even know how much I didn’t even know about myself.
But I also realized that I know more already than I thought I did. I just hadn’t figured out that I knew it.
(Boy am I working on not confusing you guys right now. )
To continue my chronicling of my time spent in Hotel Hell, we’ll finish the last two weeks of December 2012. We’re catching up before getting to the here and now because I hadn’t really decided if I wanted to write about my time spent here while I remained or if I wanted to wait until we had moved. Week 3 decided that for me.
- (Okay, so technically, I’m predating week 3, but so be it.) A few days before we were to move into our new apartment (YAY!!!), the manager called and told us we could not move in.
Because we have an eviction on our record and monies owed showing accordingly. This means no one would rent to us.
We didn’t take this news well. We had thought we’d be out of this small room to rent at the end of two weeks. We had even packed accordingly. 2 weeks worth of clothing and needs.
- The muscles in my neck got stuck on the left side and I had to go to the chiropractor for an emergency adjustment. I couldn’t move my neck and the pain was constant. Really freaking annoying!
After being adjusted and being able to think, we realized that the mattress we’d been sleeping on was not healthy for us. It felt like a giant had slept on it for half a millennium. Not comfy.
Soooooo, we got my mattress out of storage.
Then we realized that the room itself leans inward. Imagine a large “U” shape. Both sides of the “U” curve in at the bottom so that the floors are leaning into the middle, giving us quite the predicament.
A few weeks later a friend was kind enough to saw off a few wooden beams and situate them between our beds so that we could sleep comfortably. Major improvement!
However, the room still (obviously) leans.
Lucky didn’t seem to notice either way. He was, however getting a little peeved that he couldn’t run around like a banshee.
Welcome to Hotel Hell.
Here you will accompany me on a strange (and sometimes creepy/disturbing/gross) journey within the confines of these walls.
Here we find the back entrance, up the stairs and through the door. (And my insane sister.) I love my family.
In Jae’s never ending awesomeness, she came up with the idea to do a post on the things she fills herself with, the things that inspire her. Her original post is here; please do review it in all its awesomeness. My first “Things I Love” post was on Victoria Frances’ art, here.
For me, Jae’s challenge to do a series of posts on those things in which you fill yourself, your days, and your thoughts with, translated to an itchy thought I’d had in the back of my mind for some time by then. I’d read a quote by someone who had stressed the importance of knowing one’s obsessions and surrounding yourself with them (as long as they aren’t serial killer obsessions or linked to a mysterious chain of fires) within reason. Doing this would keep your muse healthy, and for all the writers out there, it would help you continue writing with your own unique voice with simple ease.
Jae’s challenge gave me a simple way to examine my life and pull out my obsessions, one by one. It even gave me the ability to look at them in depth.
Last Thursday night, I had a realization hit me. An obsession, and its importance for me. I sat there, having finished reading an awesome book, basking in its awesomness bookness and then began picking out which book I would read next.
I picked out my next choice, but put it down and didn’t start reading it yet.
This happens to me. A lot.
I find that I don’t discover things about myself in any conventional sense. Instead, what should have been subtly obvious in a normal, yeah-everyone-already-knew-that-about-you-Daph-way pops up in my life suddenly in the middle of some internal or external issue/conflict/melodramatic tragedy that makes for such a stark contrasting background against what isn’t obvious to me, that I finally catch on.