i was having a moment there, by the sink...

earlier today i had one of those comments left on my other blog, buried way deep, in which a reader shared some personal things and then said she loved my work, reads daily, et al.

whew. it's so weird, sometimes, to think that i, in some small way, get slotted into the average day of hundreds, perhaps thousands of people i may never meet. it's very good to be held in that regard. it feels, i assure you, way fucking cool.

i said once that comments are the blogger's aphrodisiac, and i stand by that. when i first began this blog, it was actually my second. i had another before this, but it was, like most blogs, a short-lived venture. (beyond fatgirl, in which i detailed my attempts to come to terms with my weight.) that was the summer of 2004. a few weeks after i began it, i had my most serious accident, and gave that up.

something clicked during my recovery from that accident -- during which i was seeing my counsellor, who seems to always know how to click me -- and writing became interesting. i sort of found a groove and lost the block i'd had, and i just didn't give a shit if anyone was reading. i really didn't care. i just wanted to write. thus this blog was born.

and write i did. i wrote in the dark for months, not receiving my first comment until, i dunno, three months later? then they came out of the woodwork. comments everywhere, all the time. it was awesome. it made me push the envelope and get more creative.

and then the bad thing happened, somewhere along the lines. i began writing for the comments. i was saying what i thought might conjure comments, and most of the time i proved to be pretty astute on that count. and, somewhere along the way, the joy seemed to go out of the act of writing. it wasn't the same for me anymore. i'm not sure that it is now, either, but it's certainly getting closer to being cathartic again. this blog does more for me on the catharsis front than the other, these days, for sure.

i quoted Robertson Davies the other day, that a writer ought not write until the thought of not writing becomes unbearable. i'm not sure i believe that. i do to an extent, and then i don't. it's something i've been considering a lot of late. do i hold back? what if i do, and a dam builds up? how, then, do i topple it again? after six years of creative block, the last thing i feel comfortable doing is holding back. frankly, it terrifies me.

there's this really great naturalist photographer, Jim Brandenburg, who found that photography had become too much like a job for him, another thing i've been feeling about the writing of late, and not a good thing to feel. he forced himself to stop taking photos for a while, if i recall correctly, and chose instead to take one picture a day, only one, for three months, in a forest near his home. the result was a mesmerizing book called Chased by the Light. it seems to me he rediscovered what he'd lost.

i've been through a lot in the preceding months -- good, bad, horrid, ecstatic. you name it, and i've been there. it's been good and bad for the writing, but i think it's certainly delivered a blow to my ability to create. despite that, i don't begrudge the adversities. they're hard to endure, they're hard as hell, and i know i've come pretty close to snapping like a twig at times, but there's something about it all that leaves me feeling oddly grateful tonight.

and i don't know why.

not that i'm questioning it. when gratitude finds you, embrace it, you know? it's a great thing, remembering you have things that you need to be thankful for. whether it's just the simple smell of autumn on the wind -- a mix of decaying leaves, distant salt air, woodsmoke breezing past, and the cool crispness of the season -- or it's something big like knowing you're still alive when, by rights, you should be long since six feet under. gratitude's a good thing. everyone's got stuff to be grateful for, it's just a matter of remembering it, i guess.

i suspect i have a long road ahead of me before i get to where i'm hoping is my destination -- long days of working then coming home and doing my true work. workin' for the man, enduring the requisite soul-sucking that most jobs prove to be to someone like myself, just so the bills get paid and the creativity can happen. i'm getting there, though. i'm closer than i was a year ago, and i'm hoping this is the year.

all i know is, that lucky penny's staying taped inside my wallet until it happens.

you know something i never really blogged about was back when i was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, what, at the beginning of august? back when all my hormones were out of whack and bad shit was coming down, i had one particular day where i slumped down on my couch, in tears, just fucked right up, feeling more alone (unnecessarily) than i'd ever felt. i looked around me and knew things weren't as bad as i was feeling, and thought, "jesus. i'm losing my marbles." it's hard when you know what you feel doesn't mesh with reality, like i felt then.

then, i got up, grabbed my iPod and took a bike ride. i shit you not, i was riding along, and suddenly i get this gleam of light shining up from the street. it was one of those blinding moments when you feel like maybe someone from on high's trying to send a little message your way.

i slowed, looked down, and there was an opalescent marble lying on the road. yep, a marble. i found my marble. i cannot tell you how hard i started laughing right then and there. i laughed so hard i cried, then i grinned and stuck it in my pocket, flipped my song to Swag's I'LL Get By, and carried on. the marble is now on my bookshelf, next to a little pewter book that once was my keychain, upon which is a quote by virginia woolf -- "look out! if you are losing your leisure, it may be that you are losing your soul." fitting.

wow, so this went all over the place.

the point is, i found my marble. i have a lucky penny. i'm waiting on word to hear how much a certain group of people are thinking of paying me for space on my blogs and podcast, and a future of being paid to do what i love is now looking like a possibility. i've mostly sorted my technical glitzes for the podcast, btw, and think it's now at least good enough to do a first show with. (my weekend's clear, except for family dindin Monday on canuck-thankie day, and i'll be doing nothing but podcasting, and i'm lowering my standards, might i add.) and i'm grateful to be through the dark spaces i was in. i'm anxious to see my future unfold. i'm content with where i'm at for the time being, but i know there's a bigger picture to come.

and i'm far, far too curious a gal for my own darned good, especially at times like these.

and now to go and invent a new dressing. champagne vinegar tonight, but with... what? hmm! ponderous, indeed.