The funny thing is I was going to take the month of November off from my blog to take part in NaNoWriMo, a month dedicated to cranking out a novel. I had lined up my family to guest post because god knows I'd be much too busy to write a novel plus a blog, what with working full time and raising a daughter and life. Funny, right? If you like gallows humor. Which I usually do but not right now, no, maybe not. Right now the only thing I find funny is watching people fall down on the dance floor on reruns of America's Funniest Home Videos. That there is some funny shit. But now there's this. This life, this worry, this storm, this this this this this. And I cannot get my head to stop spinning from this. I'm sinking, people, no two ways about it. My head is full of mush and my tummy has turned sour. I feel helpless, hopeless and that whole thing with pulling yourself up by your bootstraps? I'm too tired right now to even reach down.
I tried not to post today because really, who wants to hear the small voice of gloom? But hi. Wobbly smile. You're it. You and a handful of weak jobs posted on Craigslist. You're my glimmer, my maybe, my tomorrow, my yes. And I cannot thank you enough. I am giving myself a reprieve on the novel. A week. I need a week to remember how to breathe. Because on top of it all, Bryan's grandmother passed away so we will be going down to San Diego for the funeral. In the meantime I will wake up, feed Zoey, do the laundry, shower (maybe). I will go through the motions until I get swept up in the momentum of it all and my body moves on its own accord. Because right now all I want to do is sleep. To stop. To fall down on the dance floor and stay there. To get away from this.
My apologies for the disjointed post. See now why I have no business writing? My brain, I tell you. It's a house of sand and fog. God, how I wish I'd written that book. But I didn't. I haven't written any. So let me ask you this: what should I write? Any ideas for me? I was going to write about being a working mother but, well, *snort*, gallows humor. Not funny. Somebody else suggested I write about my relationship with my mother, but do people really want to read that? How would I structure it? What should I write about? Please, tell me. Tell me something. Tell me about the rabbits, George. I'm listening.