Mental Diarrhea

My eyes are squinted in disappointment because I didn't get up today. I told everyone I wanted to get up in time for my session with Therapist Mike and was paid absolutely NO attention. In fact, no one got me up at all. I are not happy.

I am inevitably reminded of how helpless and ineffective I am. This is one of those times when I hate my life. I am constantly at other people's mercy and whim. I have no control over my life; not even a smidgen of independence. 

I have to wonder if my life will be like this until I die. What a horrible thought. If I can't make progress toward at least a modicum of independence, then what's the point?

I've decided to give NaNoWriMo a shot. It's an exercise done every year where the goal is to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. It started today and ends November 30.

I got a really late start. I just decided to join today and didn't have a good word processing app, so I bought one. What a piece of crap! My text, once it got long enough, disappeared behind the onscreen keyboard. So I scrolled the text up so I could see what I had written. Except that the text wouldn't scroll. I spent at least an hour trying to make it work, all for nothing.

So I sent them a review titled "I want my money back!" And downloaded a free app that works just fine. But I didn't get started until late evening. Since I use an iPad on-screen keyboard, and have to tap each letter one at a time, I didn't hold out much hope.

But I started typing the novel. Two or so hours later, I stopped so I could write this entry, but first I checked how many words I'd written. I was surprised! I had written 1,120 words. Yeah, that's a lot less than the 1,667 words I need to type every day to keep up, but I spend most of my time alone so I doubtless have more time than most. Besides, once I get my mind rolling, it doesn't want to stop. I tend to be very wordy when I write, as you may have noticed.

The working title, so far, is Forevermore. It's the thoughts of a self-educated old woman who now lives, bedbound, in a nursing home. Write what you know, right? I don't know if I'll ever finish it, but it's fun to try, and it gives me something to look forward to. I like writing just about more than anything. It makes me happy.

It's not too late to get in on this exercise, peeps. There's no prize, but if it catches someone's eye, you might get approached by a (legitimate --watch out for the ones who want money from you up front) agent or publisher. Who knows? To do this you have to be a dreamer, so why not dream big? Just go to NaNoWriMo.org and sign up.

Sweet dreams to all of you. May your good dreams come true.