I am a chronic, compulsive reviser (I also like to make up words, at least according to Merriam-Webster). Before I could even bring myself to start a new entry tonight I had to read over the last one, make changes and publish it--three times. I'd already edited it for at least 45 minutes before I finally posted it the first time.
This is the same way I write my fiction. I edit, rewrite, and critique a chapter to death before I can move on to the next one. Whenever I begin to work on Boxes I have to start reading it from the first page and work my way through to the current passage. And of course I don't just read my earlier pages, I tweak a little something each tiime I go through it. It's time-consuming and inefficient way to write, but at the moment it's the only way I know to get the words on the page.
I had thought that blogging might give me an opportunity to try a new approach to writing. Spontaneous and full of quick soundbites. A totally different style--free, stream of consciousness. Nope. Hasn't happened. I'll try now.
Chanel Orange Blossom nail polish--I've never spent so much on a bottle of nail polish, but it was the perfect hot weather color. I like my summertime feet--especially when I'm wearing my $4.99 fun sandals from Fred Meyer in Tillamook, OR. Don't know why I derive such pleasure from purchases like these.
I tried to find a picture of the flip flops I bought, but Fred Meyer online doesn't sell shoes unless you look at the Alaska Bush division. Attempted to investigate that site, but it wouldn't load--probably sensed that I was from the lower 48. One pair of my sandals looks like these, with the perfect addiiton of sparkly straps.
New job--crazy hectic, too many hours, too many children and families facing too many problems. Young children deserve better. Maybe that's how I should be looking at the job--an opporutnity to help children find a safe place to be for 6 hours a day and an opportunity to be the kind of adult they might not have in their lives. That's the noble goal. The reality is I'm swamped, feeling overwhelmed and hating to ask for help...all the time. At the end of the day I leave a desk stacked with papers and folders just rearranged into new piles from the ones I start with each morning. I know I am accomplishing things each day, but the big picture eludes me.
Hate my mattress. Hate my mattress. Hate my mattress. The pillowtop is too soft and it swallows me up each time I lie down. We need to admit that we made a mistake and get a new one. Sometimes you do get what you pay for. Fie on you Mattress Mike!
I am going to publish this post only once. What you see is what I wrote, the first time...almost.