life – Page 36

I promise to write the next installment of “How to be creative when you don’t have the time” soon. Seriously. As soon as I have finished reading all of the hundreds of blogs I like to read and as soon as I have written my script.

“What?”, you say. Or maybe “WHAT?” What is she doing now? Well, when she read that there would be a NaNoWriMo-like event in June called Script Frenzy she, that is to say I, decided to use that as a chance to complete the movie script I had started writing in 1992. Back then I chose to finish my master’s thesis and continue writing a script afterwards. And then it never happened. And I really don’t know why it should since I’m not that much into film and won’t submit it anywhere. It’s just that it was a good idea and I’d like to see how it turns out.

Which is quite optimistic considering that I still haven’t had the heart to read the novel I wrote in November. I printed it out, though, and re-read page one. Then I thought to myself, “This is really crappy.”, labeled a new file with “NANOWRIMO-NOVEL”, put the manuscript in there and decided to read it in August. 2007. Maybe. If I have the time.

With the script I was quite good yesterday, I sat down in the kitchen with my laptop, without wireless, and wrote 1,125 words. This time there won’t be UFOs but witchcraft. And drumming women. And ethnologists. Of course it’s set in Germany. Oh, and it’s supposed to be a thriller. Right now it feels quite boring to me but then I have yet to write something outside this blog that holds my interest. I suspect that this is the same phenomenon as with my late dissertation. In the end I found it completely boring because I had spent so much time with those same ideas. Each time I told somebody about it though they seemed to be genuinely interested. On the other hand maybe I have a distinctly boring writing style when writing fiction (or dissertations). I’ll have to think about this some more because I’m never bored with the short, short pieces of fiction I write as a homework for my writer’s group. I don’t think they’re well written either but then I can’t expect that much when I always write them on the train on my way to the meeting. (That’s about 20 minutes of time.)

So while I don’t like to work under pressure I do quite well with time constraints. Deadlines. And I’ll be writing another 1,000 words on that script today. Somehow.

The only thing that can hinder me will be very sunny and dry weather during the next week. Because then I will be painting the porch, balcony and some windows. I don’t mind the painting that much but I really dislike having to work on a ladder and, um, there I had to go and look up a word, what I meant to say was “Schwingschleifer”. Probably a sander. Anyway, it’s one of those electrical thingies to grind paint from wood. It doesn’t seem to be heavy until you have wielded it for hours at improbable angles. And then you have to get your sandpaper and try to sand all the nooks and crannies. Afterwards you stand in the heat, wield your paintbrush inhaling paint fumes… I’m so looking forward to this. Not. So that’s project #1. Apart from the script.
(Here I have to add that though this reads as if I were painting and sanding the porch single-handedly, in real life – which is much less dramatic than blog-life – my poor and long-suffering husband will be the one doing most of the work while I will meekly wave a tiny paintbrush around and say, “I’m hot. I’m tired. I don’t want to do this. I have to have a break. Shall I bring you something from the kitchen?” Then I’ll vanish inside to emerge about an hour later saying, “Wow. You sure did a good job. Can I help?” (Yes, I know that I’m prone to exaggeration, thank you.)

Project #2 I won’t have to do myself. We’re getting a wood stove for our son’s room. Yesterday somebody re-opened the chimney and made everything ready and on Monday the stove will be installed. You might ask why we install a stove in our son’s bedroom. Well, this once was our living room and it will be again sometime in this century. And it already had a chimney which was sealed up when we installed the new gas heating.

Project #3 is a project in waiting. After sewing my grocery bag some weeks ago I got bitten by the bag sewing bug and so I’m planning to sew a bag for my yoga mat using the free Amy Butler sewing pattern. This will be the test to see if I should ask for a new sewing machine for my birthday. Will my renewed enthusiasm for crafting continue or not? So far I have visited two fabrics stores and then decided to use some leftover fabric from curtains for the exterior bag and bought some cheap fabric for the lining.

fabric on yoga mat
(in real life the fabrics match because the red is brown-ish and not pink-ish)

Of course I do need a bag for my yoga mat which travels all the way from the right side of my computer desk to the front side of my computer desk about once a week. But it will be nice to install a hook on the wall and have it hung up instead of falling over every time I need a book or an exercise DVD from one of the lower bookshelves. And one really doesn’t need a big reason for a new bag anyway.

Project #4 has been an ongoing project for some time now, I’m knitting a woolen cardigan. This I do because I couldn’t find something pretty, or even wooly at all, and it makes my almost daily “Buffy, the Vampire Slayer” sessions seem more productive. Also I found that my tolerance for family gatherings and such vastly improves when I can take my knitting with me.

chocolate-y cardigan
(yes, I’m worried that it looks so small too)

One could say that the watching of all episodes of “Buffy” in chronological order might be a project too. So far I have less than ten episodes to watch. And then I’ll start to watch all of “Angel” in chronological order. Which will take another six months at least.

To close this rambling post I’ll point you towards the just post roundtable again. You have until June, 7th to nominate post or submit one of your own. If you don’t know anything about it just click on the button below.

Every time we tell people that we don’t own a car they say, “Oh, I could never give up my freedom like that.” Okay. So for most people having a car equals freedom. They probably have an image in their heads like driving down the highway in a convertible with flowing hair. In summer. Not another car in sight. Like a car commercial. They think of speed and agility and power and strength. Not of being stuck in traffic looking for a parking space when you’re late and everyone wants to go shopping at once.

(Before you think I’m all “holier-than-thou” I have to add that my mother-in-law owns a car. It is sitting in our garage and we share it. But when this one dies (and it’s an old car) there won’t be a new one. For the money it costs to just have it sitting in the garage you can take a taxi to the grocery store every time and buy a piano on top of that.)

But I didn’t want to write about cars though I could go on and on, I wanted to write about what gives me a feeling of freedom. First it’s this:

It’s not because they are red though it helps. These shoes are a symbol to me. A symbol that I value myself enough to buy myself real comfortable shoes. They tell me that I can walk everywhere. That I am strong and capable. And independent. I’m not dependent on a machine; I can just walk away whenever I choose to. And my feet could carry me to China and back again. It would take a little while, I know; that’s why I’m not walking everywhere. But for my everyday life I can shop, go to preschool and back, go for a walk in the woods and all I need are those shoes. They are special walking shoes. For nordic walking to be precise, though I don’t do this often (haven’t pulled my sticks out in half a year or so). My feet don’t hurt. When I was in my twenties and had moved to the city my feet always hurt. In cities you have to walk a lot more than in the country. Then I discovered walking sneakers. With expensive shock absorbing thingies in the heels. Ha! When I visited a friend in Berlin and we went sight-seeing one day from 9 to 3 we came home and she lay down on the floor with her feet up on a chair saying, “My feet are killing me.” And I stood next to her thinking, “Well, my feet do feel a little uncomfortable, come to think of it.” And that was all.

The next thing that gives me a feeling of freedom is this:

I know, it’s not very pretty. Though it is red which is always good. I bought it when I was at my biggest. Right now I’m waiting for oversized jackets to come into fashion again.

I had wanted a gore-tex jacket since 1990 when I first discovered that there was such a thing. What I love about this jacket is that I can wear it all year round. It has a fleece jacket inside that you can zip out when it gets warmer. It is light, it is rain-proof but you don’t feel like you’re wearing a plastic bag. When I’m out walking and it starts to rain I just pull the hood up and I’m comfy again.

Every day when I’m bringing my son to preschool I have to smile when I see the other parents struggling with finding parking space and fiddling with keys, car seats and safety belts. My son and I just walk there. Quite slowly because he’s only four. Then I say goodbye to him for the day and there’s this feeling of freedom rushing in. I zip my jacket and just go. Often I take a detour for the sheer joy of walking. I move, I can think, I feel the air on my face, the pavement under my cushioned shoes – bliss. It’s even better when I got for a walk in the woods. Unencumbered I just walk and look and think. It makes me happy.

There was a time when I felt guilty about this sudden feeling of bliss and freedom I have at the door of preschool every day but then I remembered the times before my son was away from home five days a week. I remembered the walks I took with him. They were the only form of exercise I did in those days. I put him in the stroller, donned my walking shoes and my trusty jacket and started walking. And I felt the same feeling of elation. Even if he spent most of the walk screaming, it was worth it. When he was a baby I often put him in the sling. Then I could even walk in the woods. Or go to the city. I could laugh at stairs and narrow doors. I would just keep on walking. Stepping over obstacles. Free. Strong. Independent.

So don’t tell me freedom is about convertibles or motorcycles. I’m really not one of those women to whom it’s all about shoes but in this case shoes are very important. Shoes one really can walk in. Free.

Script Frenzy and other projects

Freedom