Every Time I Think I Have it, I Skip Three Weeks

I started writing a long, confusing insane ramble of a post, but it didn't even make sense to me and wasn't helping me sort my thoughts, so I abandoned it.

I'm not going to bother with a long recap. These last couple of weeks have felt pretty unproductive and quite wasted to me. Passing drivers ed, a little Christmas shopping with some ladies from church, a bowling/potluck activity with the youth group, working a couple days at Dad's store and getting exhausted in the process, fighting a cold stemming from allergies, enjoying a quiet Thanksgiving with four pies, four types of homemade pizza, breadsticks, hot chocolate, and cinnamon rolls.... That's pretty much all I've done.

I feel like when I stopped to collect myself life piled up behind me and I don't know how to clear away the wreckage so I let it sit there, mocking me. It's that same old issue of priorities that I'm always dealing with. I keep expecting at least one week - one day, even - will turn out like the ideal image engrained in my mind, but life doesn't work like that.

There. In two paragraphs I summed up all of the rambling that was 10 paragraphs and counting in draft post #1.

I've wasted so much precious time sitting in confusion after life tripped me up, and now I'm being trampled by all of the stuff I kept putting off. Overwhelmed, I remain on the group, dusty and tired and worn out even though I haven't done anything.

In a word: pathetic.

Okay, self pity/griping - check. On to better things!

(Aaaaaand this post takes me four days to write. Let's just say life's been a bit crummy. Ah, well.)

Things have been looking up, however. We're officially in a Winter Wonderland here! We've had a bit of snow once or twice already, but it barely stuck. Yesterday it started out as a mushy freezing mix of rain and snow, and then turned to true snow. I'm not sure how much we got exactly. Over 5 inches.

Upon first seeing it (read: being dumped into it) Truffles seemed to be a walking mixture of joy and confusion. Sasha tip-toed around a little before promptly gamboling in ecstasy. She's Hershey's opposite in that regard as in pretty much everything else. Now she doesn't want to come inside, but stay out and play in snow up to her chin.

Hershey took one look at it, huffed, and trudged out dejectedly. I don't know what his preferred climate is, but this surely isn't it.

However, Allenna gladly offered to take out the dogs all through the evening just so she could galumph right along side Sasha, so I'm happy.

So I woke to a beautiful frosty sunrise (sure, sunrises can be frosty) and was greeted by the ever energetic puppy. She's in an extra mischievous mood today, trying to wiggle her way into every off-limit nook and cranny we've worked so hard to block. She's also trying to make a toy out of the sock basket and her bedding. Ah, well. (Oh, yeah. I still need to put up a picture of her, don't I? It's so hard when she can't stop moving, even in her sleep.)

Me, I'm still not accomplishing very much. I'm an trying, but I think this will be one of those life-long issues. Why couldn't it have been OCD or being extremely unorganized?

Yeah, I don't really have much to say. I just knew I really needed to pop in and say something. So many half-profound thoughts I meant to blog about, but those are weeks past now. One day I'll figure it out.

Future World Traveler...and her dog

One very important detail was far from my mind when I picked that puppy out of the back of that truck and brought her home: the future.

Seriously. What have I moaned and groaned and puzzled over for the last couple of years? What I want to be when I grow up. When I started to figure it out, I decided a fair amount of world travel was likely to be involved. While the idea is romantic in a way, world travel with a dog can get confusing and difficult.

As weird as it may be, I didn't want a puppy for the sake of having a puppy. If I could skip the stage where it's all fluffy and bouncy and curious and hyper, I honestly would. I want a dog: a steadfast companion who follows me gladly with tail wagging, catching a ball in the park and curling up beside me in bed while I read and making people ooo and ahh over how pretty and well-behaved it is. But to get that, you have to survive the puppy stage so you can make sure the little (demonic) fur ball is learning the way they need to, looking to you from the start as their friend, and immediately understanding the rules. (Like the fact that, hard as it is to believe, not everything [including me] is edible, and not every creature will bow in submission before you, and when I say 'come' I honestly want you to come. Like, today.)

Sorry for that pretty much pointless rant. As usual, it's easier to write than it is to say, and as yet all attempts to explain it have failed. Mostly because I don't have enough patience. So I skip the face-to-face vent and bring it to you instead. :) Also, it's been "one of those days" (read: months) and my brain is being a bit slow sorting through the jumble of thoughts rolling around in my head, and then I'm too lazy to see if they actually are coherent when they come out.

So, moving on.

The first few days after getting Sasha, I suffered the teary-eyed remorse while I pondered how this one little (rather expensive) choice had altered all the plans I was starting to form.

Then I got over it and decided I may have stumbled upon the thing that would make my adventures even more amazing. It didn't change my daydreams; only added another layer of depth and color to them.

So one minute I'm picturing myself standing on those seaside cliffs in Ireland or sitting on the grassy slopes of a Scottish countryside or walking down a country road in England. And then there's one little addition to the picture: a dog.

How cool is that? Yeah, it makes me happy just thinking about it.

Of course, then I google "world travel with a dog" and reality throws me a line, tells me to hang on, and tries to haul me back down to earth. Turns out now isn't quite the time to start worrying about how all this will work out. I have years, in fact, because before the world traveling can commence, there's the little issue of monetary means to deal with.

Keep your life line, Reality. Don't you know I just have to get one of my books published, become a famous author, and fund my way around the world?

And then I remember: I haven't really written in a year.

I know I've said it before, but I'll reiterate: this whole growing up thing can certainly be a messy business. There are so many other variables to factor in that alter everything, which is frustrating for a person like me who likes to know the where and when and how of it right now.

Sigh.

If that didn't make much (or any) sense to you, it's okay. I'm probably as much or more confused as you.

Along the same lines as world travel and the future is my dream of finally uncovering the truth about the elusive and confusing history of Robert Royce. Compiling the family tree, I'm never sure what to enter about Robert or those in the generations immediately before and after him. Pretty much no one agrees on the name of his wife, the number and names of his children, where he was born, or even when he was born. (Seriously, between 1603-6 and 1562 are very different.)

At first, I planned to go to Somersetshire, England and dig for records there, but some dispute that Robert didn't even live there or, if he did, it wasn't for long.

These are the times when I wish I could time travel. I'd find Robert Royce and at least figure out where to start searching for information. I'd learn the names of his kids, his wife's maiden name, his birthdate. How amazing would it be to meet an ancestor who lived four centuries ago? Who honestly thinks about what will happen when they're dead and a few generations have passed and people start wanting to know their family history? I bet Robert never considered he would cause so much trouble to his distant descendants.

As it is, I think my starting point will have to be where he was buried in Connecticut, relying on no information but what I learn for myself. I know I can take a dog there without too much fuss.

Once I finally figure out the truth about his life (and I intend to), I'll be able to go back further and figure out how close my family comes to royalty. I'd be happy with a duke!

So much going on, yet life sees so dull....

It's been a full week!

Even if I had wanted to do NaNoWriMo this year, there's not way I would have been able to. Between memorizing Ephesians (like I was supposed to have done in August...), Institute, driver's ed, school, training a puppy, and renewed efforts to get my writing moving in a serious direction.

I meant to post on Friday but only got one paragraph in before I walked away and forgot to come back. So, recap! (Yay.)

Driver's Ed has been going well. (At least, as well as can be expected.) Heather and I drove for the first time on Friday. Just a country cruise. I have an issue with breaking (especially knowing when to slow down) and staying in the middle of my lane. I'm a poor judge of distance. We also had to work around routes, which wasn't fun.

We just got back from our second time out. This time it was in the city and on the freeway a little, with parallel parking. That was exciting. At least our instructor is patient. I have to say, I think I did far better the first time. This time was fraught with blonde moments and silly blunders, like turning left when I meant to go right and my right turn signal was on and he had told me three times to go right and I'd double-checked the directions.... Sigh.

I'm not enjoying having to miss Pastor's class, mostly because it means I have to wait to get the DVD and then I have to remember to make time enough to watch it and do whatever assignment he gives. Thankfully, Bro. Mark is allowing for our being 5 minutes late or so and he's making it easy. (He had breadsticks and brownies ready for us when we rushed in last week.) Class is early on Wednesdays because it's at a church, which is great for us. It makes for long days on Thursdays, especially because we drive on a Thursday evening next week.

Wes left Bible study in the middle of it to get us, and we were able to get about the last 30 minutes of the lesson. (But it's really confusing coming in on the middle because it's in Revelation...). So we're figuring it out.

That was pretty much our week up until Saturday, when we went to a wedding for a couple from church. (Scary thing is that I was in youth group two years behind them.)

The bride had a whole bunch of Peter Pan references tied in here and there, lots of color and patterns, old books and buttons and candles (ha!) on the tables, a "wishing tree" where guests could hang little notes.... It was awesome, and beautiful.

I think that about sums up my week. Between all of the activities, I've kept busy with writing (distracted by my superhero project instead of more important things, but at least I'm writing), Sasha (she's brilliant, but she doesn't apply it positively), and trying to keep hold of what little sanity I have left.

Sad as it is, that's about all I have to say about my life right now. I feel so unaccomplished.

As always, I shall try to return within a few days to post something meaningful. We'll see how it goes. Perhaps I could share a story excerpt.

Driver's Ed: as if I needed one more thing to endanger my sanity. (Plus: a rant about superhero flicks.)

I think I may be the only one surprised that I did fine during the first class of Driver's Ed. I'm now also much braver than Heather, because I stood up to bring things to the front two times.

Yeah, I'm pathetic.

I wish I knew why I always get so worked up about this sort of thing. My stomach was a queasy mess, my lips were dry from me licking them too much, I was shaking.... All because I had to sit in a classroom and listen to a teacher tell us how to be good drivers. He isn't even a mean teacher!

Anyway. Heather and I were some of the first to arrive at class last night. We headed to the row of desks furthest from the door and sank into our seats. Except for when I was in my first years of school, this is the only time I've actually sat at a legitimate desk, where the chair is attached to the too-small-desktop and there's a rack underneath to store possessions. I don't like it. But maybe I'm just spoiled.

By the time class began, there were 35 kids in the class and it felt a bit crowded. Not one of the kids actually attends the church where the class is being held. I think that added to the terrible state of my nerves. What was nice is that the teacher turned out to be a friendly guy with a decent sense of humor.

To help me calm down, I kept busy scribbling notes and observations in my notebook. First about some of the books I saw on the shelves next to me; then ideas for one of my stories; a note about how names seem to have a fair amount of impact on personality (and a prayer of thanks for my name); an observation that "people with nice handwriting don't write for fun. :)".

The first hour involved the teacher collecting checks and writing receipts for them, passing out attendance sheets, and having everyone put their information on one side of an index card with a map of the area around their house on the other. (That was fun.) Then we were each give our Driver's Ed "bibles". (Yeah, at one point he said "take out your bibles" and I sat in confusion until I finally realized what he meant by it.) On the subject of losing these, our teacher said, "If you lose it, the state of Michigan has authorized me to beat your with a bag of oranges."

I think I'll like this teacher.

By the last half hour, I'd recovered my usual (though still considerably unstable) state of mind. I also found my humor. While we were learning about the different kind of licenses, the teacher told us that if anything happened to our Level 1 license, we were to get it (or what remained of it) replaced. (His examples being if it was ruined or the dog ate it.) My note for this was "(but if the dog ate it....".

So, despite my doubts, it looks like my chances of survival remain optimistically high.

If we can work out the schedule, Heather and I will begin driving this Saturday. I'm glad I get to drive with her. We can go insane together.

When we got home, we had a movie to watch. Another superhero movie. (We'd watched Captain America on Sunday.) This one was Thor. I'm really starting to get sick of superhero movies.

WARNING: The rest of this post is a brief rant on why I hate superhero movies. You can stop here without missing anything important.

I like stories with complex plots and defined character development. Every superhero movie I've seen recently lacks both of these. (Iron Man was great, but they totally destroyed everything they accomplished when they made the sequel.) The plots are shallow, held together by explosions and terrible beasties and killing off the best friend or awesome black dude. Seriously. I felt terribly unsatisfied at the end of both Captain America and Thor because there wasn't anything important happening. Nothing to cheer for. They didn't spend enough time on the characters for me to be sad when they died. For Captain America, it was a blur of action interspersed with scenes full of empty dialogue or fight scenes or sweaty buff dudes strutting around without shirts. Captain America could have been an amazing character, but they spent more time having him throw around his shield and shoot people than actually watch him develop as a person.

As for Thor.... That's a whole new level of pain. The main characters share a couple of bashful glances and all of a sudden they're kissing? And it's not excusable like Enchanted. And what about Darcy? She was my favorite character and she didn't get the attention she deserved.

By the end of each movie, I sat there wondering what I'd missed, because, at least to me, pretty much nothing had happened. What they showed in a whole 1.5 hours was what ought to have barely been the first three chapters, prologue included.

/end rant/

Sorry. I had to. No one wants to hear me go through it out loud, and I ran out of room in my journal, so I had to share it here. Don't you love me? :)

I suppose it bugs me so much because it's exactly what I fear will happen with my own writing: empty one-plot stories held together with a few good lines, some special effects, and a bunch of flashing lights. It's one of those peculiar phobias I can't explain. I'm sorry you had to endure that, but I did warn you. (Or maybe it made you laugh, in which case I feel accomplished.)

I don't say this to encourage you to avoid any superhero movies. By all means, watch them, if only for decent special effects and the awesome Viking armor. I probably will watch them again.

But meanwhile I have chores to do and my own superhero story to write (if I can ever get past that dreaded first chapter).