I miss you lately, only, not really. You should know that even when I’m not blogging, I’m watching–reading, thinking, consuming. Watching–lots and lots of youtube videos, which are a balm to me when I’m revising. They strike exactly that sweet spot between passivity and inspiration. Especially Ze Frank:
I’m in round 2 of revisions, which have been challenging and have stretched my brain and my story and my conception of my story (and my conception of my brain?) in new ways. When I’m away from my manuscript and from my blogging duties elsewhere and from youtube (oh, youtube!), I find myself suddenly desiring to be engaged with new projects, with my hands, with the concrete, with the real world. I do things like sew! Here’s a skirt I sewed, which I am wearing today (that is me today, in the picture, only earlier):
I’ve also started a container garden. This are my seedlings, waiting to be planted. Every time I turn around, they’re a little bigger. It’s almost terrifying. Especially the cucumbers. Those little sprouts are growing into mighty beasts.
Other recent activities include grilling, flailing around to Just Dance 3 in my living room, date nights with Mr. Husband, visits to New York City, nights spent watching entirely too much Mad Men . . .
It’s funny. I think about last year and how little time I felt I had. I was writing and I was working and sometimes I took long walks in the woods, but I don’t think I was really occupied. And when I think back, I realize it was probably depression. It’s funny how depression can do that, sap the joy out of every little corner of your life until the thought of doing anything just makes you say ugh.
I’m happier now. A lot of this is location–a better state, a better town, a house whose foundation was laid three centuries ago, a back deck and water rushing by and mountains on the horizon in the distance. But a lot of it is friends, too. Internet friends, specifically. I had some last year, but I didn’t have the complex and rich support network I have now. So you guys–you know who you are–thank you. You’ve not only helped me to feel a little less alone. You’ve helped me to find the joy, too, that was here with me, every day, all along. I needed that.