It's been so long since I've blogged. And so much has happened.
And so little too.
The recent thoughts I've been having have gone something like -- must work on my book. Then I revise my book in one weekend, get it back from the publisher and they say, "All negative commentary needs to be cut." I then say, "Where's the story?" but that's not true at all. It's good to go back and add stuff and change stuff and give things a positive spin. That's happy. Though I'm only about 100 pages into this revision.
My father had a heart attack. I know I haven't talked about that here. That was one rough weekend. But, I discovered there are somethings that are very similar between my father and myself. In situations where one is in a hospital bed, or in the herd surrounding someone in a hospital bed, my father and I both make morbid jokes. It's this thing we do. And it makes sense. Deal with fear and the unknown with humor. That makes all the sense in the world to me.
One of the funnier moments looking back was when I got the news. I looked up at Jena, who was writing a paper at my kitchen table and I said, "I have to go." We had just been making plans for knitting and she for writing her paper. She looked up and I said, "You can stay here; I have to go."
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"My father just had a heart attack. I have to go to the hospital. There's tea and food. I'm sorry, I'm not going to be able to make you that meatless spaghetti stuff we were talking about."
Jena started to pack up her computer and put it in her computer bag.
"Oh, you're leaving? Okay," I said.
"Are you crazy?" she said to me. "I'm driving you to the hospital."
"I can drive myself," I replied.
"No," she said. "No go get what you need. Your knitting and anything else, like your wallet and let's go."
"But, Jena, you have a paper to write."
"Move!" she said to me and I hopped into action.
When we got to the hospital, Jena didn't know if she should come in, as it was her first time meeting my dad. Carol, my step-mom, went out of the ICU doorway and saw Jena standing there. Carol insisted Jena come in and join us. Jena came in and sat on a recliner. Eventually she took out her paper and started to write.
Something else amazing she did was she packed us a bag of food for snack/dinner. All of sudden, I realized I was hungry and poof -- bag o' chips and dip and other amazing yumminess we had purchased earlier in Whole Foods.
When I walked into the hospital room, I told my dad he was never allowed to do this again, to which he laughed. When Jena joined us, he thanked her for driving me. I sat at the end of his hospital bed and held his toes for a long time. He would look down at me at the end of the bed and smile. Carol went and took a break, eventually, to go shower and then come back. Jena and I sat and talked with dad for some time. I knitted and my yarn rested between his feet at the foot of the bed.
It was a good thing Jena drove. I was a basket case behind the wheel the next day even. It was weird. I think I hadn't completely calmed down from dad being sick and was driving aggressively when I was driving out to see him on the next day.
I put myself online to find "the guy." But I have to say, this online dating thing is so weird and contrived. Absolutely. I think I hate it, but I've been waiting on God for so long and now I don't think I believe in God... I worked so hard to have faith and be patient. I knew I could go online and figure out this dating thing. I was doing the hard thing and didn't go online, but walked by faith that God would bring "him" in. But then I got cancer.... Way to wait for your life to happen and then almost lose it.
Here's the thing about being online. I have flaws. I hate them, but they exist. I'm human. We all have flaws. But when you're online, it's like a balance: I'm kind, but I'm clueless in math. I'm compassionate, empathetic and caring, but I can't balance a checkbook and I have some credit card debt from grad school. Carolyn's husband, Andrew, says you just need to find someone whose version of crazy you can live with. Only, everything is based on such superficial material. I feel like I'm being sent the message: I see how flawed you are and I don't even want to meet you based on the fact that those particular brands of flaws aren't ones that I want to cope with. And the kicker is, I do it right back. He doesn't look nerdy enough. Or he looks like he drinks a ton. He looks like he hasn't read a book, in like, ever. I base it on a a couple of hundred words and a couple of photos. Seems like a flawed system to me. But I can't go out and meet all of them -- for a number of reasons. I don't want to. I don't have that kind of time. And the most important thing, I really and truly hate rejection and hate having to reject others.
I don't want to be alone and I don't want to be staring at my phone -- where it tells me I'm being noticed or not all the time. So, I throw myself into the important work I do, the writing I'm working on and immerse myself in books as I drive too and fro work. I just finished a wonderful listen: As You Wish by Cary Elwes, read by Cary Elwes about behind the scenes stories of making The Princess Bride. Robin, Wright, Rob Reiner, Wallace Shawn, William Goldman, Carol Kane, Billy Chrystal, William Goldman and Andrew Scheinman all take part, by reading the little blurbs they've added to Elwes' story. I didn't want it to end and I procrastinated in finishing it, to hold onto those moments of delight that Elwes shares. I also am now reading an old favorite, I Capture the Castle, by Dodie Smith. These things keep me sane in my otherwise busy and cluttered mind.
Someone else has been an amazing sounding board, constantly building me up when I'm feeling low. An old friend who I lost contact with for so long. And now, we might be collaborating writing together and that also makes my brain work in ways that I just adore.