September 28: Horrible Person, Feeling Crappy, Looking Ahead

Okay, I was a horrible person last night.  My writer friend from the university gave me some really good (and some seemingly impossible) suggestions for my new collection of poems yesterday.  I went home and started rewriting last night.  It didn't go well, and I developed a really bitchy attitude.  I kept showing my wife revisions, and she wasn't liking the things I was showing her.  Of course, what I wanted her to say was, "That looks great, sweetie.  You're the best writer on the planet."  She's way too honest to say that.  Instead, after about the twentieth time I glared at her and snatched a rewritten poem away from her, she rightfully said, "I don't want to read any more."  I lapsed into sullen silence and despair.  She went to bed.

I tried to work a little more on the manuscript, but nothing sounded right.  I gave up, read a few pages of a book from a really good writer, and then went for a walk at about 10:30 p.m.  It was unseasonably warm but foggy.  I'm talking can't-see-your-hand-in-front-of-your-face foggy.  The walk, however, managed to clear my mind of all the thoughts of self-harm I was having.  (When I say self-harm, I mean going to the freezer and eating a gallon of French vanilla ice cream or about a dozen banana popsicles.)

When I got back home, I got in my pajamas, brushed my teeth, and went to bed.  I didn't fall asleep right away.  I was too preoccupied with revisions to immediately succomb to exhaustion.  However, I finally drifted off around midnight.  When I woke up at 4:07 a.m., my first thought was about the manuscript.  However, my mood was considerably lightener.  It's amazing what four hours of sleep can do for you.

I'm still feeling crappy about the way I treated my wife last night, and I intend to apologize when I phone her in a little while.  But I'm trying to move forward, not skid into a mineshaft backwards and blindfolded.  I have work to get done, and I will get it done.  That manuscript will be in the mail tomorrow, no matter what.  After all, I've got a Nobel to accept in a couple of months, right?

Saint Marty's keeping his eyes on the prize.

The way my night went last night