Sherri Cornelius

I’ve been feeling a bit disconnected the past few days. I think it’s because things have been weird in my real life, and when I’m dealing with real life stuff I sort of shut down until I process it all. Nothing life-shattering has happened, some of it isn’t even bad, just different. For some reason, the more I have to blog about the less I want to blog.

If you follow me on Facebook you probably already know this, but the biggest good thing that happened is I got my first Valentine's Day gift in I don't know how long. Ten years, maybe? And it was a biggie. My wonderful husband outdid himself by surprising me with tickets to the ballet. (The link is to a snippet of one of the short modern ballets we saw.) Since we never go to fancy places we had to buy new clothes, but with the snow we ended up having to do it all at the last minute. It was worth the inconvenience, though, as it was the first time we'd been out on a date in no telling how long. Stimulated my need for artistic pursuits, and my need for my husband. He enjoyed it, too.

The biggest bad big thing that happened is...



...my van finally died. I was given this Voyager by my generous mother when I really needed a vehicle 9 years ago. For three or four years now, we've thought it was about to die, but it just kept on going. It even started right up on that final, frigid morning, but died before the hubs got two miles from the house. The old girl did her best; she was a good and faithful servant. I'm pretty sure the timing belt broke, and with all the other major repairs needed, it didn't make sense to spend the money to fix it. Instead, we sold her to a salvage so her organs could save other vans.

The snow really made things difficult for a couple of weeks. We had record low temperatures, but this week it'll be warm enough to challenge the record high temps. Unsettling, but at least we're in the good weather phase of the craziness.

Since the van died, I've been home without a car for a week. It didn't take long to get depressed and bored. I miss being able to do my shopping in the daytime, or take a short drive if it's a beautiful day, and even if I didn't do those things I'd at least get out to pick up the kids from school--something I was scared to do until a couple of months ago, but now I miss it.

So the snow combined with the no-car thing has given me cabin fever pretty bad. Night before last I made an after-dinner run to the dollar store, and just drove around for a while with the windows down and Rock You Like a Hurricane blaring. The night wind on my face was like salve on my heart.

So like I said, things haven't been terrible, just different. Lots of little strange things happening on a daily basis. I'm hoping the hubs will take pity on me and not drag his feet getting another vehicle. Then I'll be able to handle anything.

My little experiment with You Are the Muse on Thursdays hasn’t really worked. Originally I thought YAtM needed its own space, but I was too afraid to give that level of commitment when I didn’t even know if I could sustain it for a long period of time, so I left it here to see how I would do. Several weeks later, YAtM grew legs and walked out into the world.

I’m happy to announce my new blog, You Are the Muse. I’ve moved the YAtM posts from here to there and added a couple since, while I waited for the right time to tell you about it. Everything about this is different from anything I’ve ever tried before. It might not be an original concept, might not even be very important in the grand scheme of things. It might not turn into anything at all, ever, just me pissin’ in the wind here. (Hard for a lady, but not impossible. ;) I might not ever finish, but it’s asking me to begin.

I tried to box it in here where I’m comfortable but it never felt right, so now I’m trying to let it go where it wants, without a plan or even a destination. There may be many changes in the early days while I adjust course. I have a feeling I won’t be able to see the turns until I’m right upon them.

It’s funny how a blog about finding the muse within oneself seems to be coming from the outside. It might be the only way my subconscious can get around my inability to promote myself. I mean, who am I to tell other people what they should value? Am I really so audacious as to think I might make something out of this? Really? I can only do it if it’s not me doing it, that’s what I think.

And so I ask for your help on behalf of this-thing-that-is-not-me.

Here’s what I need, and you may do any of these or all, whatever you feel comfortable with. I understand you might not be interested in the subject of the new blog, but your friends might be. Anything will help.

1. On Twitter: Follow YAtM on Twitter, and if you feel so moved, give a #FF shout-out
2. On Facebook: “Like” the new YAtM Facebook page and share with your friends. I’ll be suggesting the page to my friends, to make it easier. Subscribe to YAtM with a FB app called Networked Blogs. It’s a safe subscription service, with no spam whatsoever. Very unobtrusive. I’ll also be sending invites for that.
3. On your blog: If you think your readers will be interested, give YAtM a mention and/or put it in your blogroll. I’ll return the favor. I invite you to write your own post about creativity or the muse and tag it with You Are the Muse, or send it to me as a guest post, or both. I have two lined up, but would love more.

I think that’s a good start.

I imagine I will still post here with news of my life, but I might be a bit busy with YAtM for a little while. I would be EXTRASPECIALLY HAPPY, NO LIE, to hear your suggestions for features or improvements. This is a project for all, not just for me.

Thanks for all your support.

I sit in a quiet house for the first time in a week. A crazy blizzard plus several atypical days of subzero temperatures kept the entire family huddling in a thankfully barely-warm-enough house, but today, finally, our routine is back to normal. Finally, I get some alone time.

Until Mother Nature puts a stop to that nonsense on Tuesday night.

That’s right, we’re getting another (possibly crazy) blizzard which will lock us all in together for at least another couple of days, and possibly for the remainder of the week.

My children will have forgotten how to add and subtract by the time they get back to school on a permanent basis, but at least they’ll get their Little Big Planet pods just the way they want them.

Thank God for video games. And electricity, and heat, and snacks. And running water. Three days, I melted snow for washing. I don’t recommend it. The ratio of frozen pounds to melted gallons doesn’t work in our favor.

Anyway, the family will have a much-needed return to normal before we are hit once again. I have to go to Wal-Mart and elbow my way through the panicking hoards in order to restock my dwindling supplies; get all the laundry finished by tomorrow night in case the drain freezes again; gas up the car—and I hope I’m not forgetting anything.

Wish me luck.

Some think of the muse as a pet who will come if you train it with treats, while others see it as a lover you must coax with candlelight and soft words. I have a friend (though I can’t for the life of me remember which) who calls the muse “that elusive little bitch.” Mine is the Great Seventeen-Toed Hairy Prairie Hidebehind from a book I read in 2nd grade.

But in all seriousness, I see the muse as the connection we all have to a collective well of creativity. How do you define your muse?

~~~

Further reading:

http://idratherbewriting.com/2008/02/29/stoking-the-creative-muse-how-finding-ideas-to-write-about-is-similar-to-remembering-your-dreams/

http://www.squidoo.com/amuse

http://ancienthistory.about.com/od/mgodsandgoddesses/tp/Muses.htm

http://www.uwsp.edu/education/lwilson/creativ/muse/idmus2.htm

I know we don't get as much snow as some places, but come on. Misery is misery. It's eight degrees with snow like tiny ice pellets. Winds 30-40 mph, pelting any foolishly exposed skin raw within seconds. I don't even know what the wind chill factor is, but it's definitely well below zero. As the leading edge of the snow passed through last night, we had thunder and lightning because a severe storm from the south collided with a snow storm from the north. Apparently the Gulf of Mexico and Canada are having a turf war right on top of us.

The snow doesn't look that deep, but that's because the land's been scoured. The drifts are waist-high.



As crappy as it is here, I know it's going to be worse as the system travels toward New England. Y'all stay safe.

I wonder if I'm a good parent. I worry my kids feel they can't talk to me. I fear I'm too strict lenient strict.

I know how my childhood affected my behavior as an adult. I've seen the same path in others who were raised in very similar circumstances, and in those who were not. I'm wondering if anyone in the world actually grows up to be a healthy, well-adjusted adult, because I don't know many, and the ones I do know are in middle age and have worked through most of their issues. So what are the chances my kids will grow up healthy? Right now it seems like nothing I do will prevent teen pregnancy, alcoholism/drug abuse, and depression. It's all around me.

Right now the problems are manageable, but how do I know which grain of dysfunction will grow into the pearl of self-destruction?

At times the kids seem to doubt my love. (Well, the older two. The 7-year-old has confidence like I've never seen. So far.) On one level I don't understand how this is possible, with all the sacrifices I've made to be a SAHM and to keep the family together, though logically I know they don't see it because they are children. I try for just the right blend of understanding and stern, make every effort to let them be independent while still being involved, demonstrate that I'm a person of worth and so are they.

But some days it appears I've had that balance wrong this whole time. Or, more likely, there is no ideal balance and the whole thing is hopeless. They are children of the world, and the world chews up children and spits them out all the time. And there's nothing I can do about it.

Reading back over this, I sound a bit manic and controlling. That's not how I feel, I just feel frustrated and a bit lost. Another way to look at this whole situation is that I am doing a good job, and since I can't control how my kids see me, I can just relax.

Anyway, that's what's on my mind today. Anybody got any stories in this vein they'd like to share?

My creativity quietly began to assert itself this week. Several things happened to facilitate that, starting with the list from last Thursday’s post. Listing the possible stumbling blocks brought them to my attention, forced them out of the recesses of my mind where they lurked. Just admitting my fears took away a lot of their power. I knew they were there, but I need to be reminded from time to time.

Another thing that helped my creativity was rejection, believe it or not. I had two, one for a short story and one for a novel. They were both good rejections as far as rejections go, because they said what they liked about the manuscripts and what they didn’t, and both said they’d like to see something else from me. Often for writers, especially in the beginning stages, rejection is the only contact we have with publishers, so even a “no” can prod us into action and make us feel like part of the process. These reaffirmed my desire to write stories for others’ enjoyment, so I bought MS Word 2010 for my new computer as a symbol of my commitment.

The third thing was finding a folder full of old ideas I forgot about, probably twenty of them. Plot notes, beginnings, characters, scenes…lots of stuff. As I went through them I pulled out the ones that caught my interest. It’s a nebulous thing, interest, because I couldn’t tell you why I left the post-apocalyptic human “canary” in the pile but pulled out the futuristic  dreamless society. I think it’s because the second one fermented better. Who knows, maybe the first one will be the one I pull out the next time I find my idea folder.

And finally, I think I realized the real reason I’ve resisted writing in the past. Fear of failure, scattered focus, indecisiveness—all of these can be overcome since I know they’re there. But while those are the branches of the tree, there seems to be a trunk holding all those up. It’s something I’ve never explored logically, because it’s almost impossible to explain in a simple sentence.

I might call it fear of being alone, except when my family’s gone all day I love the solitude. Perhaps it’s a compulsion to be connected, because when the family’s home I find it hard to shut the door and do my own thing. But wait a minute, I don’t really disconnect during the day either, thanks to the Internet. I’m physically alone but I have conversations all day. Maybe I really am afraid of being alone! See my problem? Whatever it is, it makes me feel like I can’t work on something unless it includes someone else. And it’s not only writing, either. I think the items I listed last week are subconscious ways of taking the attention off the real problem.

What do you think? Have you figured out anything about your hidden motivations recently?

~~~

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