Maybe stardust has its reasons
On fractures, slowing down, and recommitting.
Morning darklings,
Friday, a hard plastic conditioner container hit a bone in my foot. Saturday, I went to a protest and an event for Animal Noir. Sunday, I made focaccia with my dad then joined nearly a hundred other people in celebrating the life of a beloved Portland figure. His name was Steve Arndt, and he was a wonderful man. Monday, I had an appointment that the hubs drove me to. And on Tuesday, I did nothing.
My foot has a small fracture. I know this without an urgent care visit because I've had them before, because I talked with one of the nurses that comes to my home weekly, because pain and bruising and weight bearing patterns all match up. It doesn't matter, though. Not really. I just have to rest and manage the pain. The thing is, this came at just the right moment. I don't know if events made of stardust have reasons, but if they do, this one did.
It forced me to look at the events the way I used to, when I was taking care of myself, paying attention to my body more. Also, it came the week before my calendar reads fuck right off (otherwise known as my first full week off in ages). I saw it as a challenge: alter the activities to work with you, as all but one couldn't have been rescheduled (and oh did I need that support focaccia).
I used my scooter at the protest, stayed only a half hour. Despite my attempts to rest my foot, I still pressed it down now and again to steady myself. Also, the hubs joined this time, and the loudspeakers wrecked him. But we showed up, we were counted. At the Animal Noir event, I tried to keep my foot raised when I stood, sit as often as I could. Focaccia is a surprisingly quick and hands-off bread, so it didn't take long. I took sitting breaks nonetheless. And at the event for Steve, I sought out seats, even when it meant leaving conversations. I still need to work on that, I noticed. If something sparkles, I'll stand. I'll shelve it. What if they don't follow me? But the question should be (yes, you read that right, I said should), If they don't follow me, are they worth my time? And despite being in the world, I carried my shoe half the time I was at my doctor's office. This may not sound like a triumph, but for me, it was.
I'm in what are called house clothes today. If you aren't familiar, they are clothes that are nicer than pajamas, almost as comfortable (or maybe just as), but meant for inside your home. It's a southern thing I've carried with me—one of the few. My foot is propped up, and my friend is coming to me today. She's done this a few weeks now, and it's been really good for me. I still get up, get dressed, am not a troll, but I get to rest.
Thinking about my actions like the spoonie I am again—something I allowed myself to forget to do for a while—is proving to be really good for me.
So good that I've gotten back into writing.
Since Joyce, I've written essays and newsletters, many issues of The Little Periodical, one short story that makes my heart sing and is with someone right now being looked at, and emails to people. I found myself wanting to focus on The Little Periodicals almost exclusively, setting aside longer form fiction entirely. I think I'd burned myself out a little. Also, there was a sense of bitterness that hovered in the back of my throat when I went to edit things. Between fatigue and expectations and hearing that AI is using my very favorite punctuation—em-dashes—it just sounded like an exercise in trudgery. And after making collages and writing mini stories and musings and poems, banging my head against the wall over a missing letter felt un-fun to say the least.
But it turns out that I'm fine with it again because I've found excitement. It's always like that, isn't it? One is often willing to do the work, put in the time, get dirty and grimy and worn out and more fatigued than yesterday, if only they are satisfied at the end of the day.
I wrote the introduction to Project #1, and it was like a lightbulb illuminated in the darkness. Ah, yes, this is what will bring you back to writing.
Once upon a time, I was in a season of play. Now, I'm in a recommitting season. I don't keep the same schedule I once did, don't have the same writing partners or go to the same places, don't live in the same house as the last time I had my nose to the grindstone, don't have the same body or mind. I have new challenges and new joys, new responsibilities and opportunities. So I'll need to find a new rhythm—or decide that no rhythm is the rhythm.
Guess we'll see what happens.
ofc a lil board
Until next time, harness the Little darknesses and embrace the Little things.
P.S. #1. The Clocks Kickstarter is doing really well! Less than $500 to go until it's funded—and over a month to get it. On top of that, we were named a Project We Love thanks to our mission: Disabled female publisher getting international, unique, speculative, dark, and sometimes queer or crip fic stories into the world.
P.S. #2. Remember that novella I can't read because it's got my fear but I love the author who wrote it? Well, it just came out! Go support Megan Lee Beals and get the book, One Hundred Thousand Lives After Death!
P.S. #3. I will be doing this bit from now on for news on authors that have fun things happening or reminders of events/things that just came out. Big news will still get its own posts and whatnot, so you can always swap to getting just the news as your subscription type and hear about publications or events. These tiny notes just won't make it to your inbox.
