Taking a Moment for Me….

It’s been crazy busy lately. I’m not complaining, crazy busy comes with November and NaNoWriMo! I love it, I truly do! But tonight as I sat here working, I realized how much I’d adore just taking a moment for me. Isn’t that a luscious thought?

Ha ha ha, is it sad that even as I sit typing these words, being selfish enough to blog despite the fact I don’t have time to, and despite the fact I should not be wasting words on something that doesn’t grow my NaNoWriMo Word Count or increase and better hone the current manuscript I am ghostwriting; that I feel guilty?

Ugh what a sentence I just wrote…… eek.  < shaking head >

Anyway, I wanted to come post this photo I took of some colored pens I adore and keep out just to see their colorfulness, and which are covered in dust because life has been too busy for me to dust them. The photo sort of symbolizes a lot for me during the past year. Life has led me literally through ever color there is in life, and most times I was covered in grimey dust as it led me down those paths of color.

Crazy, but true.

I’d tell you all about it, but shit you not, you wouldn’t believe me. Suffice to say, I’ve learned a lot. More then I ever felt capable of learning and accepting. Now I begin each day with an intrepid step forward simply because I must.  Soon I’ll share some things, once I am able to tap that wellspring of emotion I rarely show to the outside world. For now though I’ll just be a colorfully dusty eensybeensyspider, one who tries but can’t quite visualize what precisely I’d do if I had a moment for me.

Epic w00t,

Cylithria

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What it isn’t…

I am a nut...
It isn’t the tears you’ve cried, the pain you’ve felt, or the abject terror you’ve endured that defines you.  It’s your ability to say boldly, “I cried, hurt, and feared; yet I’m moving forward!” and then act, that makes you who you are!
I am and always will be Cylithria; no more, no less!
Stay tuned for the live blogging of my Camp NaNoWriMo June, 2012 Novel: Born in a Barn
Raw, rugged, un-spell or grammar checked, and blogged in it’s ugly first draft phase; Born in a Barn will hopefully be a romance…..or it will become what it does… 30 Days and 50,000 words will tell.
~w00t,
Cylithria – the eensybeensyspider

Missing Home

It’s been crazy in my life lately. Some of that crazy I totally brought upon myself. I don’t mind the crazy – at all, but I do seriously mind the fact that other things, things out of my control have delayed me over and over again. I am still in Michigan, working ever diligently to get healthy, catch up on work, and get the things I must complete, done.  Tonight though, I am missing home, utterly.

I hate it when I feel so … whiny. It’s unbecoming and not how I want to be but for the last two hours I fought the fact that I am whiny and missing home tonight.  Phooeypants!

I can’t complain really. Actually I don’t want to complain about any of the things I am involved in, or the workload they brought on. Those who know me, know me well enough that they would admit, I enjoy hard work.

I guess what has me down is I feel torn between trying to complete that which I committed to do, (And wanted to do, and actually enjoy doing,) and just wanting to go home.  I am mad at myself that my choices, although based on facts I knew then verses what I know now; has led to difficult times for myself and a few others.

I guess basically what I am saying is, tonight I feel the schmuck because I didn’t envision this current situation, me being away from home, here in Michigan, when I first opted to do the things I am currently involved in.

Double phooeypants! Hindsight can be ….well, blinding. 🙂 <– there is a weak smile, because well, I can’t remain whiny forever, can I?

I miss home. I feel awful Wocket isn’t feeling his best. I feel wretched because I miss my neighbors, my friends and my bed. I actually feel bad because I miss home, the place and people I love and speak oh so highly of.

Here in Mid-Michigan, I don’t really fit in. They laugh at me, a lot, because I talk of things they don’t “do” here. They look at me as if I am some hipster, technology addicted, internet absorbed, being. I haven’t met anyone up here in Mid-Michigan who remotely understands, I work. I work hard. Granted I don’t belong to their local unions, working in their local industries which are dying. I work on a computer, from nearly anywhere I roam.

And oddly, most of them here can’t understand why I despise the unhealthy things that are local favorite foods, or places or things to do. I know and understand they are happy with their things, and places, and jobs and foods, and I am glad they are. Truly.  They should be happy with their chosen lifestyles. That’s how it is supposed to work.

What strikes me as odd though, is they don’t want to allow another to find happiness in a different way, a way new or foreign to their own choices. That makes no sense to me. Lol.

I don’t mean to imply the people here are uncaring, they aren’t. However, they are small minded, choosing only specific things that are acceptable, and scoffing or blatantly ignoring those things that fall outside of their choices.  They must miss so much by such blinders. It’s sad.

But I have to smile, for real now. Because as I typed this, I realized, while trying to figure out the differences between here, Mid-Michigan and The Heartland of America, where I live……and you know what lightening bolt just hit me?

I am a Heartlander now. Holy wow. Holy fuckin wow.

Wocket once said to me, “It’s Home Cy….that’s what it is and where I am from and who I am.”

Oh for Pete’s sake, he’s right!

~Epic w00t

Insanely Addicted

For whatever reason lately, I’ve been addicted to writing on my Ipad, or CyPad as I call her. Where you might find the eensybeensyspider on the Interwebz :D I  have been sick, having caught a nasty virus that knocked me out for over a week. During that time, I could barely get out of bed. Feeling guilty for not getting any work done, I’d brought the new CyPad to the bedroom with me to try and get some work done. Of course my brain was so fried from the fever, I could not think, let alone think well enough to work, so I sat with a text editor open, and typed – whatever came to mind.

Well, what has happened during that odd, barely able to form cohesive thought phase, is I have become addicted to writing on the CyPad.

Late at night, early in the am, whenever I am able to carve a 5 minute or more moment out of my uber too busy day, I write on my CyPad.

I love this. I simply can not tell you how much I love CyPad for writing. I’ve no games on it, no doodads to connect me to social sites, nothing like that. Me, a text editor, Cypad and a story.

Hell to the Nine Yeahs!

~w00t