It has been so long since I've logged into this blog that I typed CrabsVsCountryGirl. That is a whole other story all together, and not one that I know anything about (thank God). I'm not a fan of ocean life. Haha. Bet you thought I was going somewhere else with that. Anyway...
I've been going through some pretty drastic changes in the past year. I moved, I separated from my husband, and I've had some medical issues (no, not crabs, although I do appreciate a good throwback joke). In all of this, plus the consequences (financial worry, emotional distress, financial worry, unorganization that comes with uprooting your life, did I mention finances yet?) I seem to have lost my way a little bit. Things that used to bring me pleasure no longer do.
I've been a reader my whole life. Even before I could read I was fascinated with books. Lately I've tried a few different books, and I just can't seem to be engaged. The first one I really noticed a problem with was The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. The lovely and talented
Jen recommended this book to me. At first I was intrigued by the idea, but as I got further and further into the book two things struck me. 1) This lady didn't start out unhappy. She came from a place of discontent and ungratitude for all the blessings she had, but stopping to smell the roses is not the same as finding happiness. 2) I'm a little too bitter right now about my divorce to hear about how she spent a week being really nice to her husband. The second book I tried to read was Warm Bodies. I saw the trailer for the film, and I thought it looked interesting. Surprisingly the book was donated to my
thrift store about a week later, and it seemed like a magical sign (we get lots of great books, but rarely are they THAT new and pop culturally relevant). I've been reading it for month, and I'm about 60 pages in. Normally I read a book in under 2 days. Finally, I tried Beautiful Creatures by Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl. My friend Jessica thought the two of us should read it because we both have a penchant for YA Fiction. Coincidentally it is also being made into a movie, and if we both liked the book we would plan to see the movie. She was waiting on me to give her the copy of the book when I was finished, and she helpfully reminded me of the movie's release date a couple of times. This nudging was the ONLY reason I finished the book. To say I hated it was an understatment. It inspired me to write a bad review, which is pretty unheard of. I can generally find something nice to say. I could not find a thing in this book that I enjoyed. (If you are interested in my review, you can read it
here.)
I've had a problem with writing recently too. If you couldn't tell by how long it has been between my blog posts, you could look at my Twitter feed which used to be filled daily, or my Facebook which hardly ever gets anything but a shared link from Yahoo News. I mentioned before that I took a writing class last summer. It helped me write a novel in 2 weeks. Unfortunately it also changed my opinion of the writer who taught the class. I use the term "taught" loosely. She was flighty 99% of the time, never responded to anyone's work, didn't bother to update her syllabus from 2008, and didn't follow through with the features of the class that were promised. She did, however, demand we purchase her new book (after already shelling out $100 for the class) during week 4 of a 6 week class. Finally she resorted to bribery by asking that if we could work as her own little mini publicists and get her to a NYT bestseller that she would "take us under her wing". I was so disillusioned by the hard sale, that I dropped out of the class and haven't wrote much since. Granted, I did get my novel out of it, and I am so so proud of it, but I haven't bothered to go back and revise it.
Finally I get to fashion. Or more accurate I suppose is appearance. I love clothes. I love buying them. I love watching shows about sewing them. I even love selling used ones to needy families. It may just be part of the grieving process, but I don't spend as much time as I used to on the way I look. I let my hair's roots go un-dyed. Forget plucking my eyebrows. I chose glasses over contacts more frequently than I used to. Part of it is that I feel like I don't have anywhere to go. I work, I come home, I sleep, I repeat. The other part of it is that I feel like I'm in this great big holding pattern. I'm not divorced yet, but I'm not married either. What good would it do me to feel confident and pretty? I can't move on. I can't go back. I can't afford a divorce. I just have to sit and wait. In the meantime, you can bet I won't be reading, writing, or grooming.
To get myself out of the funk I'm in, I'm trying to do other things to occupy my time. I exercise although I could really kick that up a notch. I cook although it's easier to just eat out when it's for one. I'd love to try my hand at making clothes, but I'm a sewing machine killer. I can break one so fast it isn't even funny. What will I do to pass the time and ease the boredom? Will my love of reading, writing, and fashion ever return? Stay tuned!
