Continuing Health Update

I’m a bit anxious today, because apparently the lab the does ultrasound work on weekends (?!) and they already got my result in by Sunday. My doctor called me yesterday and I missed it (I mean, I really didn’t expect a result that quickly), so I called back today and of course he’s busy with patients now and can’t talk to me. I’m sitting here waiting to hear what’s wrong with me so it’s making me a little antsy. I should be working right now and it’s not happening, but I need to cope, you know?

I suspect it’s just my fibroid getting bigger suddenly, which it’s known to happen. I would like to get it removed if that’s the case, but man, is it hard to get a timely appointment with my ob/gyn. The next appointment is literally a month from now. I’m not expecting the situation to change much (hopefully not, and until my doctor calls back I’m only guessing it’s the fibroid, not confirming), but more waiting is not good for my mental health haha. I did learn that I can actually message my doctor through their online system so I’m all like, hey, that sounds like a great idea! I’ll see if this nets me a closer appointment date, or at least ask him for referral for a surgeon or something.

In the meantime life needs to go on, but I’m just sitting here waiting for the phone to ring.



My in-laws are visiting me and staying for a week. They’ll be here tomorrow, and I’m just frantically cleaning last bit of stuff. You know how it feels when in-laws come, right? It’ll be one thing if I have like a visible 60-hr a week job, but I kind of don’t. And I can’t cook that well. And if the house is a mess well, I guess I really fail at being a wife person, or a human being. Oy.

I know I’m a little bit irrational because I don’t want them to hate me. I mean I’ve been working (and will continue to work even when they’re here, of course), but writing is such a long, invisible job. You are tired from working but to others they just feel like you haven’t done anything unless you lock yourself up in your room and don’t sleep for a week or something. Then they’re like, ok, you’re tired. But seriously who does that? I mean, people do that, but you can’t keep that up. Plus, you don’t write your best if you just churn out stuff nonstop your brain would seriously just go “ok here’s some stupid things because I’m tired yo”. Unless you do drugs – well, maybe that’s why writers do drugs? I don’t feel like abusing any substance so I suppose I’ll look like the worst slacker person ever, who can’t cook, and since I’m a woman and we don’t have babies yet, and I’m not like a model-level pretty – yeah, I think I’m going to stop here before I convince myself that my in-laws think I’m a useless human being and gripe about how my s.o. sucked at marrying yeesh.

Less Depressed, Better Day

Things I’m going to do today that I’ve basically been putting off the past week:

  • Do laundry. Holy crap, the amount of stuff I have to go through is insane now. It’s not even hard, just, no motivation. Do it!
  • Work solidly for two playlists. Yes, I have to resort to the mentality of “there’s no limit, it doesn’t matter if you write pure gibberish, you’re just listening to this awesome youtube mix for an hour at a time, and writing an afterthought. Do this twice and your’e done.” That is what’s keeping me going these days, with limited success, but hey, at least I got an hour of something out instead of zero.
  • Play Stardew Valley for realsies haha. I’ve spent like 8 hrs total on it already and kept on wanting to start over because of the different layouts for the farm. One day I’m like “ooh the forest one is so tranquil but I have no space” and the next I’m like “ooh all these space in the standard to customize my farm but it’s so boring looking!” etc. etc. Yeah… Good game still, though.
  • Finish that RP app. I’ll talk about this later. Not today. It’s too nerdy and dumb, but I promise I’ll talk about it because, why not?

And that’s it. Small goals. Mainly, do that one chore you’ve been putting of and work 2 hours. How hard can this be? Really?


The Usual Gripes – Now with Timetable!

I know you’re fucking sick of me writing how much not working I’m fucking not doing (or doing?) but fuck, work is slow and painful. I am a bad person.

I am not a bad  person. I am trying to be a better person. I am a mediocre person? Anyways, so my s.o., after a fairly big fight and stuff, made a plan. I, like a programmer, apparently, need a manager. Because I suck at setting deadlines and meeting them, and I apparently also don’t know how fast or slow I write. Which leads to bad expectations which leads to unproductivity, etc. So my s.o., the dogged PM in his blood that he is, decided to actually iron it out. We decided every Sunday (or Saturday, depends on our schedule) we set a goal for next week, with stuff I should be doing and estimated hours need to complete, and see how far I get. Better managing expectations. Win-win, right?

WRONG! I sooooo failed the first week. I was supposed to work through a chapter and a half in roughly 15 hours or work. Yeah…didn’t happen. Got through nothing. Partially because this new thing is so paralyzing to me so I got scared (still am, but what else is new?). Partially because I had to brainstorm some large plotholes and of course, did not put that on the timesheet (yes, brainstorm takes time, sometimes days without a word written because you just couldn’t get over where that screw was supposed to go in that imaginary difference engine). My fault, of course, so this week it’s playing catch up. Before I even started. Oof.

And catch-up? Well, theoretically I’m supposed to be working 4 hours a day. However, “working” doesn’t mean “writing,” it also includes lots and lots of kinks in “planning” and “plugging plotholes” and “hating self over how horrible your characters are in their conversations and growth”. So I’ve “worked” for at least 4 hours a day and had written a total of maybe 2 hours, for the past three days. Like, what the fuck. Second week, doing marginally better than first week so I should be happy right? Ha! I’m now 3 chapters behind my schedule. I guess it’s time to readjust but how do you go to your s.o. who tried hard to help you and say, yeah, so, I so failed. So badly. Can we maybe stop doing this or start over or something? Because I’m not working less, I’m just working much, much slower than even I thought I ever could be. Sorry, I suck, I will never amount to anything worthwhile in my lifetime. Sorry you married me.

That sounds depressing, though. I don’t want to end like this. I’m not that depressed, just a momentary relapse into worthlessness. It happens. Today I will finally finish that half chapter, maybe. Oh my god. And to think if I ever finish this draft I have to pretty much rewrite the whole thing again because right now it’s nigh unreadable. Wow. Not going to think about that yet. First, I need to make sure I work at least 2 solid hours on writing and not planning today. Or some such. And keep going tomorrow. And Saturday. And on and on and maybe I can get somewhere. Man, doing stuff I love is this hard? Imagine doing a job I hate – or, maybe don’t imagine. No wonder I was depressed and couldn’t do shit for years while I worked for someone else. Just waking up feels like a chore already.

I Feel Like I’m on Reverse Drugs

So, yesterday, I FINALLY, and I mean FINALLY, continued with my novel. That means I’ve written something completely new and didn’t just go back and edit to oblivion, or just not write altogether. Some stupid year this has been. (I blame it on everything that’s wrong with the world right now. Jives horribly with anxiety.) I wrote about 700 something words, not too much but man, they’re BRAND NEW WORDS, and I can’t describe how wonderful that is for someone struggling with writing.

The process was super, super painful. I was just agonizing over the 700 words, you wouldn’t believe how much I hated every single damn syllable. It’s crazy. But about 500 words in I realized I got “into” the plot again, and came up with something new, and the last few were a breeze. Unfortunately by then it was dinner time, and I felt like I spent 4 hours on 700 words (in truth it was definitely less because I kept on checking other things to distract myself from the painful words). And I was so tired mentally so I just went whatever, I’m going to watch a random movie or something. So I did, and then my husband came back and we started putting together furniture, and there goes the rest of my evening.

But know what, after I watched the movie I was really, really happy. Like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. It wasn’t a ‘high’ just pure content. At first I was thinking it was because of the movie (it was a decent Korean film).But then I thought – no, it’s because I wrote stuff! The process was agonizing but afterwards it felt so good, like I had worth. It’s like the opposite of what happens if you shoot heroin (well, I’ve never done any drugs so…it’s an approximate from what the Internet tells me) – instead of the happiness and rush you get depression and self-doubt and everything horrible during, but afterwards you don’t get withdrawal but a healthier mindset and brighter look on life. Oy.

The hardest part is to know that I will have to agonize every single day to earn any peace of mind. Hopefully, like exercise, it’ll be less painful, and eventually will be routine with happier results? Well, I’m on day 2, so let’s see if I can pull through today what I need to do.