Amphibologies

This is actually a word used by Chaucer in Troilus and Criseyde to refer to the ambiguities inherent in prognostications culled from the gods - basically, these divine words are open to interpretation.

I use the word here not to refer to anything so deep as, say, the ultimate outcome of the Trojan war (which, as it turns out, is not at all open to interpretation, as much as Criseyde would care to differ), but in reference to our future - mine and TD's. Not about whether we'll have a future - we're strong as can be - but about what comes next for us. I won't recap yet again our odyssey to seek employment near to one another - ya'll know that rap already. That quest continues this year (MLA meet-up anyone?? Sis, I know I'll see you there, lady!) - but we've decided to wrest a bit of control over our lives from the job market this year. We've made some decisions about pursuing medieval babies.

I won't say anything further until it's time - and this is all academic at this point (or actually, we're making it decidedly not academic) - but we've started thinking about our future, what we want, what will happen, and we've made an awesome plan. And so, we're simultaneously seeking to eliminate amphibology (keep waiting for the market to hurl up the perfect situation for us? Hell no!) and also giving in to the amphibology (living together? Knowing what the future will bring career-wise or financially? No way!).

We've just made a choice to embrace the amphibologies of our lives and we're sort of trusting that things will work out...resistance is futile and if you build it, sprog will come...

Egg Update

Ooooo, this is a slippery chapter! It has often wriggled away from me and left me sitting lost and alone in front of the TV. Or lying on my back with a fun book next to me. Or surfing on the IKEA website. It's veeeeery sneaky.

But, I've done okay with this guy so far - the Egg Gnomes (for now, re-tasked Job Market Gnomes) have downgraded the chapter's status from "DEF(MEDWOM)CON-4 = Gaping Crevasse of Doom" to "DEF(MEDWOM)CON-2.5 = Smallish Pit of Periodic Despair with Pinpoint of Light at Far End."

My process with this chapter revision has been feast or famine - I worked the other day for 7 hours - the next day I did zilch (except lie around and moan). Over the past 3 days, I've written 3800 new words for this chapter - I'll cut some out, but it's definitely grown more than it's lost (of course, I could also be talking about my ass at this point)...

However, I discovered something fortuitous tonight. It snuck up on me like finding a ten dollar bill wedged into the couch cushions - I'd already done some revisions on this chapter last year! Wtf? How could I forget that? I have no memory of it, but it must have been me b/c the handwriting's the same. There's still more to do, but--damn--that was a nice find!

So, I have 6 days left on this chapter before my letter-bomb from Deadline Facist arrives in the mail (I must insert proof of revised chapter in order to disarm it and save my neighborhood from incineration). TD is in Dutchmanlandia until next Thursday, so I have all the opportunity in the world to get this sucker done! Then we go visit Medieval Pop for Father's Day.

In frivolous news, I splurged on an hour long massage today - it was soooooo great (Obviously...what massage sucks? That's like saying you had a good orgasm. "Paging Dr. Redundancy"...). But I felt very bourgeois...I will also start going to "gentle yoga" when we get back - I'm trying to find non-pharmaceutical outlets for relaxation - hopefully I can slowly wean myself off my meds by the fall!

Molehill behind me....Gaping Crevasse still to come

[*post written to the dulcet tones of "We Are the World" on Sky.fm 80s*]

First off, the molehill (it seemed bigger before I crossed it): my book manuscript, for better or worse, is completely drafted (still need to write the conclusion and bits of the intro, but you get it - it's completely egg-shaped - the beef is there, folks).

I've kept the first deadline that Writing Guru/Deadline Facist set for me and I'm damn proud of that. And I think this latest chapter is pretty good (ask me tomorrow when I read over it).

Now, to the Gaping Crevasse of Doom that sits before me like a nasty troll calling me a punk-bitch and telling me to bring it on...

[*why do I hate the sound of Bob Dylan's voice?? The MAN CAN'T SING!!!*]

...I have to begin revision of the two earlier chapters. The first one is the one I fear, the one that keeps me up at night longer than my Ambien should allow. Even when the Job Market Gnomes sing lullabies and give me warm milk.

But, to the chapter. It's the one in the book that doesn't quite fit as well as it should - everyone has this, right? Right??? Thought so. I've done some conceptual work on it (talking at TD over a beer - he stared blankly and nodded - he's such a good piece of sounding cardboard...). I think I can work it in pretty well - even highly interestingly. But it will take work, big work, hard work. And I'm afraid of what I'll find on the other side.

At least it's written, though! I can work with written...I've given myself 2 full weeks on this next chapter - no traveling, nothin' - just work.

But Egg is drafted! Yay!