Sunday, February 19, 2012

 We are a couple days shy of our one year anniversary here in Cheyenne. We have managed to get completely unpacked and mostly set up in that time - there's more in the garage than we'd like and there's some yard work we want to do when the weather gets better. We've made little additions of our own already - rope lights on the back patio, ceiling fans and lights in the bedroom, dog doors into the garage and house and other little things. We want to plant a vegetable and herb garden in the back and tear up part of the front walkway and put down crushed stones and pathway lights.
The picture above was taken today. Winter is still here and may be for a bit. Not very attractive at the moment either. The picture to the right was taken at the beginning of last autumn (we've moved a couple of planters around since and the bird feeder is in for repair). I very much miss the trees in bloom and the green grass and the garden that grows along the fences. I think Dylan misses the garden too - especially the sunflowers. She seemed to enjoy hiding in them. I need to talk to someone at the local garden center about when is a good time to plant. We never had a house that was suitable for gardening really and with Wyoming's extended winters I'm not entirely sure what the best timing is.

I've actually started writing on my memoir. Journal in book form I've been calling it. I took a go at it yesterday and got 689 words down. Not bad for someone who hasn't been able to get anything out lately :)

Friday, February 10, 2012

It's all about me - apparently. I've decided to write a memoir. Not really for publishing - I don't presume to think the public is that interested in my life. But it's been gnawing at me for months and to the point where I cannot seem to write anything else. I spent weeks outlining another story - even drew out a map for the world - but I cannot write a damn thing for it. This memoir business keeps pulling at me. I'm hoping it'll be therapeutic as well, or at least not damaging. I don't know how to write something like this - how to outline it or what order to go in or anything like that - but I know that it needs to be done and I hope, really hope that once it is I'll be able to actually write something else. It seems silly to be consumed by the idea of a writing project that isn't fiction - or at least someone else's biography. It feels selfish to devote the time and energy to writing about myself and my life. It doesn't surprise me to feel that way - I'm not really into feeling that I'm worth the time and energy of other people - I suppose I shouldn't be worth my own time as well. But in the hopes that it will be helpful - to shut up the voice in my head, to get writing again and to maybe release (or silence) some ghosts - I'd like to actually, finally do it.