One last picture of the lake for tonight’s post.
I’m back from my one week vacation at Huntington Lake. As much fun as it was, and as beautiful as it is up there, I’m glad to be home with my purrfaces and puppy. They were all happy to see me, each in their own way.
I relate a lot to this little imagined dialogue, except that I’m usually having the debate with myself.
“I think it’s clear you’ve done everything you can.”
“What does it matter if it’s not enough?”
“Nolan Oliver, what has happened?”
It’s not until he hears the note of frank alarm in Saul – an occurrence so unusual it drags Nol a little away from the chasm in his thoughts – that he looks down at himself. Blood covers his button down shirt, a pool of it over his belly.
“Don’t worry; it’s not mine.” His tone is caught somewhere between neutrality and reassurance, distant and disconnected.
“I know.” Saul replies, assessing the man intently, voice as nondescript as ever.
“Of course you do.” Nol tries to laugh but it sounds half mad, like a child conceived by the rendezvous of a cough and sob. The man stands just inside the threshold to his home with all the appearance of someone who’s grown roots against his will.
“The defendant is pronounced guilty of all charges and is sentenced to a complete destruction of property. This sentence will be carried out immediately.”
The crowd erupts into a cacophony of conversations. A punishment this severe is almost unheard of. Without her possessions, she will lose all memory of her life, of who she is. Irrevocably.
“He wants to see you.”
“How nice for him.”
“He’s dying. Your friend is dying and there isn’t much time.”
“I don’t know what he was, but it wasn’t my friend.”
“Figure out your poor little hurt feelings later. He’s dying now. And spare me the bullshit about how you don’t care because if you didn’t care, you’d have no reason to avoid him.”
“Then I’ll come with you.”
“You can’t, I’m going too fast.”
“I’m racing the sun.”
On February 20th, when I last posted, I had a terrible night. I’ve struggled with insomnia since middle school. It can take me hours to fall asleep only to spend the night waking every hour. It is, if I’m honest, profoundly wearying.
The night of February 20th was a tipping point. I spent the next morning exhausted and in a foul mood following 3-4 hours of much interrupted sleep, feeling very much the victim of the anxiety and restless thoughts that make it so difficult for me to drift off every night. Then I decided that I was going to solve my insomnia problem. Having often read that consistently going to bed and getting up at the same time every day would help with sleeping problems, I made a point of being in bed by 9pm every day and getting up at 5:30am every morning. I also invested in a Philips Wake-Up Light in an effort to wake up more naturally.
I experienced great success following this regimen. I, in fact, fell asleep more easily and woke up feeling more refreshed. It was challenging, however, to fit in everything I wanted and/or needed to do every evening after work and still be in bed by 9pm. Posting on my blog wasn’t something I’d yet fit in to my new routine, though I had every intention of remedying that.
Life, however, does insist on unfolding contrary to our plans and I had a very busy several months. Selling my condo proved
In continuation of yesterday’s First Sentence:
The greatest desire of your soul.
But that’s not possible. Even they can’t reverse life and death. They do magic, not wish-fulfillment. No matter what people think to the contrary, magic is always explicable to those who know enough to do so. How have I heard it said? “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” People who can’t explain it just aren’t “sufficiently advanced.”
A one sentence First Sentence:
“In reward for your service, we return to you the greatest desire of your soul.”
The first day I thought it was a plant. It had leaves, after all. The second day I still thought it was a plant. Yes, it was weird that there were vines growing on seven separate surfaces with no visible connections to the plant I’d brought in the previous day, but it had vines and leaves and I’m not a scientist. On the third day it waved at me from every wall of my bedroom and I no longer had any idea what it was.
Musings on something related to my novel:
<They’re all there. Alive! They’re just…trapped. If we can find a way to bring them back into this dimension, we can save them.
<That’s a big ask.
<But we have to try…don’t we?
<Yes. Yes, of course we do.