Home > Trip > Dispatches > Daily Dispatches 2013 > Daily Dispatch #244

November 25, 2013: Wrong Brothers, First Birds to Walk

My brain is now the consistency of the mush I eat in the mornings. No, the mush I eat in the mornings has more substance to it. I used to dread getting up for all I could foresee was that I would have to eat my oatmeal before I’d be able to get on with my day. I have, out of habit, now accepted the fact that I am to eat oatmeal for breakfast. The alternative might be Grape Nuts which I hate even more. The grainy cereal hurts the roof of my mouth.

I will never, ever leap for a job when I see the pot placed on the table. This would be disingenuous. Rather, I eat my oatmeal knowing that in seconds that my plummeting blood sugar will ascend to new, previously unforeseen heights. “To the moon Alice,” Jackie Gleason used to say. To the moon, indeed.

I repeat. My brain is now like mush. I worked hard for a month, every single day on my book proposal. And today I finished it – at least for now. Pete had a really good idea – he said that the final chapter should be about taking writerly risks. I agreed with him that this is a wonderful idea. However, I could not motivate myself to act upon it. I have had enough.

The acquisition editor at the University of Alaska Press may suggest content changes in which case I will have to revise my proposal. Or he may tell me that, like the Wrong Brothers, this proposal was not destined to fly. Or he may say that this is fine the way it is – let’s see what the board has to say about it. And the board, which is in part comprised of some of my former University of Alaska, Fairbanks teachers – well, we’ll just have to wait and see what they have to say.

I feel like this proposal is now in the hands of fate. So I am not going to fret about this. I have been saying that if it doesn’t fly that this is it for me – no more writing. I’ll do as I was supposed to do a long, long time ago and get a real job, that is one in which I get considerable public exposure. This way, I’ll be forced to develop a more personable persona. (The persona that I have now is lacking in this area. Ask my non-existent friends).

I will this holiday season sign on as a Wal-Mart greeter. This, for me, would epitomize being in living hell. Imagine it, me, a semi-reclusive person suddenly being in a situation where she has to interact with thousands upon thousands of brain dead shoppers. And this being living hell, they’d keep on coming. I’d of course be wearing a Mrs. Clause suit, which is a very stuffy Mrs. Clause suit. And there would not be any breaks; unless I was a cigarette smoker. Marlboros. That’d be my brand.

The prospect of my having to do this would prompt me to again resume writing. This might be good, or it might be bad. I actually write because I’m ill suited (pun intended) to do anything else. I think this has to do with my being autistic.

Well, darkness now comes earlier and earlier. Today we took all four horses out at once because time is now of the essence. They all had a wonderful time. Not so Jenna dog, who was stalked and nearly stomped on by Hrimmi. And after, we got all three dogs out for a walk.

Maybe it’s the vitamin D-3. Dunno. But I’m doing far better at settling in for the evening and working in the dark. I had just a few passing moments of darkness claustrophobia tonight.

Now I must deal with the emptiness that accompanies finishing a big project. I have discovered that the best way of dealing with this is to take on the next project. Pete’s now finishing up formatting Raudi’s Story. So we’ll soon have print copies on hand. I will need to start marketing them. And the illustrator will in the next few days send us the drawings that go with Raising Raudi. So this too will take the form of a print copy. And I have another proposal that I need to get back to. This one is the how-to horse trekking book.

Wrong Brothers. First birds to walk. I hope they took the overland route.

Next: 245: 11/26/13: The Ethos of Rescue Animals