A Brief Interlude (#23)

Not really sure why I picked this one.
I don't have the urge to find a new image.

For the past eight days, I have been sick. A steady fever of a hundred degrees. Aches and chills across the first few days. Sore throat and coughing fits throughout the nights. Until last night, I barely totaled four hours of sleep in any of those previous ones. Tests on Friday morning cleared me of COVID, Strep, and the flu. So, the doctor sent me home with a powerful antibiotic (I am so looking forward to some of the possible side effects), an inhaler (my first time with one, and it seems to have helped a lot with the coughing), and a steroid (I am going to pass on that one and its side effects). And I can say honestly, forty-eight hours later, and a complete night of sleep, I feel a lot better.

So much so, I spent the second half of the day at my eldest daughter's last dance competition of the season. Of course, what has not improved was my hearing and speech. Like the plastic bench beneath my butt, I am sure both were hard and grating. However, I coughed perhaps once or twice, and that was from walking outside in the cold air. Did not blow my nose once. Finally, I left the event tired, not exhausted. 

There is still enough energy in me to write this post. What I lack is something worthwhile to talk about. Since I skipped last week's blogging, I decided to make an attempt. 

A few posts back, I discussed my obsession with documentaries. One about a woman and her family's life in an area near the Arctic Circle inspired a marathon of viewing. I ended up trudging through a World War I series, and blitzing through one about World War II. Somewhere in there was a trilogy about wildlife in Scandinavia's Arctic regions. And now I am hiking through a program that follows several groups of people living remotely near Alaska's Arctic Circle.

Something about those cold, wilderness regions and how people and animals survive it, along with stories of wholesale slaughter and destruction, that has me watching more tv in the past few weeks then I have probably all of last year.

Time watching televisions shows is time I could be spending on reading. Something I spent so little of while I was sick. Yes, I find it difficult to read while I am ill. But, in the past, my symptoms rarely lasted more than two days. Three at the most. This round was rough. However, I am happy to say, at one point, I cracked open I book, and found myself reading at least three or four chapters in a sitting. And it was a work of fiction. That was in the middle of last week, and I have not returned to it since.

Yet, now that I am feeling much better, I hope to revisit it as early as tomorrow. If I can get through it, I can move on to other titles. Maybe I will even write about it. But one step at a time.

Speaking of writing, I cannot recall the last time I journaled. Perhaps two weeks ago? That would make it my longest drought. Not blogging, I can excuse. Writing fiction has been an ongoing struggle. But journaling was always my anchor connecting me to that elusive habit. Or a fall back position whenever I advanced two far into no-man's land. A way to keep sane.

And I severed the rope, and I am adrift, or crawling from one bombed-out crater to another. 

[Okay, so I cannot decide on which metaphor to follow. The first ties back to the Alaskan videos, the second to those trench warfare films. I should choose clarity over cleverness.] 

Yet... yet... writing this post has me thinking. Okay, not always a good thing, especially when I overthink. But this time it may pay off. A week of illness followed by a day in which I endured a public event without suffering exhaustion (physical, emotional, etc.), and here I am typing away a post I had no intention of producing. That is something.

In addition, the beginning of March starts in the middle of this upcoming week. That means spring is around the corner. A whole months of planning and starting gardening projects. There is a metaphor somewhere in there. One I can apply to writing. 

Not sure what it is.

And this post is getting long. 

So, I am going to wrap it up.

My goal tomorrow morning, is journal. And maybe read a chapter.

I just have to do it before I start the laundry, clean the kitchen, go grocery shopping, bake some brownies...

[Shit, I forgot about the brownies!]

A Brief Interlude (#22)

This is a painting done by J.R.R. Tolkien.
I have always enjoyed his paintings and drawings. 

Two weeks ago, I published a grim post. Then skipped a Sunday of blogging. Now I have returned. During that interlude, I spent three days in Disney World, hanging out with some close friends, watching our daughters perform in a national dance competition. That trip required me to step way out of my comfort zone. It was worth it. Even when I spent half a day without access to my phone.

As for not blogging, it was acceptable. I did not want to haul my laptop through security, onto the plane, and then have it sitting around in the hotel, worried I would leave it behind. I did not need to keep track of another item, and increase my anxiety. Also, it turns out that I never had enough time to myself, between all the walking, talking, eating, and introspection that happened. Except for the shower. I was alone in there. But it is not a place for a laptop.

No computer also meant no journaling. I have been struggling with that habit since the beginning of the year. To miss three full days of it was a major, but necessary set back. It is a good thing that I have so much free time waiting for my daughter at her dance studio. I spent the full two-and-a-half hours in the car typing away a journal entry that ran six full typed pages, single spaced. And I only wrote half of what was on my mind of my experiences from the trip. Really, it was an outline. At some point, I need to go back and expand on some of the content.   

Speaking of habits, I tried to improve another one, reading. The last time I wrote about my reading habit was more than a year ago. So, I decided to put some effort into it. I downloaded two pieces of fiction, and one non-fiction. The latter, Empire of the Summer Moon, covers the history of the Comanches. I read about two chapters, and realized I did not want to spend the trip catching up on our dark past. Especially when I spent the week before watching a documentary series on the First World Way. One of the fiction books is a favorite of a close friend, and I have been meaning to start it since hearing them mention it. That was three years ago. And now it will have to wait a bit longer. As I discovered on my plane ride to Orlando airport, I struggle to commit to new works of fiction.

Instead, I settled on the third book I downloaded. It would seem a part of me knew I would prefer something old and familiar. A book that I have read enough times so I could skip over various parts. But I one enjoy so thoroughly, that I could easily turn to it when I needed to escape, or found myself alone. It is the Lord of the Rings. The entire series. For three nights, right before bed, I delved into its pages. Then on the flight home. Reading it kept me grounded, and connected to a feeling I wish to experience more often.

The Lord of the Rings is the first book that I can vividly remember loving to read. I even inspired my best friend to give it a try. He ended up enjoying it, too. That all happened back in the seventh grade. Since then, I have returned to it at least ten times, cover to cover, and a dozen times just one or two sections. But in no way would I recommend it to anyone I know. While it is good literature, and an essential part of the fantasy genre, its style and content does not appeal to everyone. Even I grow weary of reading certain passages. Especially the long speeches. However, there are other parts, entire chapters, especially the first part of the story, that hooks me in every time I start it. 

And so, from time to time, I go back to it, in order to recapture the magic I felt the first time I experienced that book. It is ironic that it would be a book that explores the passing of golden ages, and heroic times; of one last grand adventure before a vast, fantastical world fades away. It is also no surprise that my ability to read it thoroughly wanes as well. Yet, my nostalgia keeps me going. 

I just hope that joy inspires me to explore more works of fiction.