Okay, what's the significance of Halloween? Anyone? Anyone?
Yes, it is trick-or-treat time, true. What that means has been changing rapidly of late. Used to be, kids would dress up and go round the neighborhood feeling strangely exhilerated by the freedom to be out past sunset and see groups of kids they know and recognize costumes from the school parade and get goosebumps at some particularly well-done dark front yard and then go door to door screeching TRICKERTREAT! and get candy piled into their pillowcases and go home and stay up late watching a cheesy old monster flick and gorge on treats until Mom took it away and sent them to bed. Now it's, well, I don't know what it is, but it's a lot of things. Anyway, not what I meant.
Last day of the month, yes. So what. Reminds me I need to write a rent check and stick it through the slot in the office door for the first time EVER. Never done that before. Not since Reagan's first term anyway. Whoa. Anyway. Not that.
Parties, costumes, bad food ... ? Yes, those are going on tonight. I'm not at one. I know which one I'd be at if I were: This. Not very inspiring though, really. Let's admit that much. Nice people, I'm sure. Pleasantly weird. But; no. Not into it.
Not into the NaNo thing.
Oh, I WILL be. Come on. Just not into it NOW. Give me a day. Two.
Five?
It's just that, damn. The Giants could win the Series tomorrow night for the first time since 1954. Finally put to rest Willie Mac's line drive driving into Bobby Richardson's glove, that whole earthquake thing on top of a worn out pitching staff, and the tragic change in momentum after Dusty pulled Russ Ortiz. All that can go into the history books under a new page written tomorrow night in bright orange and black ink and there's no freaking way I'll get any writing done.
And if they lose ... I have tickets to Game 6, suckaz! Wednesday will be lost in a frenzy of San Fran frenzy-making. Ah, shit, if they win that night I'll have to go to the bars and end up missing the last BART train and a second day of work and it will be ugly, real ugly. Yet real ugly in a very beautiful way.
Brings me to the work thing. I'm all worried about getting shit done. I shouldn't be. All I have to do is plan and focus and follow the plan and communicate and all the usual shit. It's just a heavy week, is all, with a couple unplanned-for documents needing completion and a training I need to give Friday on an architecture I haven't been arsed to study yet plus the long list of customer-visible bugs my original plan had me spending all week clearing out. Usual shit. I'm just whining about it.
Because.
Because I'd much rather WRITE. The beauty of November is the magic that lets me give myself permission to spend time stringing together words that I just can't seem to do much of otherwise. And I've done so to the tune of fifty thousand words (the NaNoWriMo goal) several times ... No, a couple times. '05 and '08. They were mysteries, sort of. I don't read much fiction, as it happens, so my ideas are probably weak and derived. But I remember those two stories well and believe they have solid potential. In the hands of, you know. An actual writer.
And here I've got this place of my own now where I can be guaranteed no interruptions and just the noise level I desire. That should be a good thing too.
I don't know. Actually that's a whole nother subject, the overly empty split nest and all that. Hrmph. Anyway.
Here it is. End of October. Significance of Halloween.
Kicked it out nicely. Went last night to a dive bar in old Auburn for a Halloween bash, live local music, no cover songs, Burners, costumes, practically no one I knew, old brick walls, even older stone walls dating back to the Gold Rush, friendly foothills people, beer and cigarettes, damn comfortable new sneaker boots, and I blacked out the gray in my beard. 'Twas fun, aye, and I got home at two thirty and put myself around a quesadilla so rumblies wouldn't disturb my sleep. Slept four hours.
And I should hit it but damn this week is an inconvenient time for NaNo to start.
As if it couldn't be, and hasn't been, worse.
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6 comments:
Is it that stuff happens in bunches the world over? Can't it sort of dole itself out, this stuff, across time, evenly distributed?
Cuz there are times when it's oh so dull and you ache for something to be going on. Then BLAM! It all starts to happen again at once.
The significance of Halloween is that it supplies leftover candy for NaNo. Dur.
I have to go along with you on that, Don. I mean, the puzzlement over the meaning of it all. It's just not there anymore, except possibly for the very little ones who have not yet reached that age where they are jaded and cynical (nine or ten.)
Which leaves Teacake's very thoughtful, well-reasoned answer.
Dur.
Yeah, Gekko. Months or years of devastating boredom followed by six weeks of sheer panic. Rinse, repeat.
"Suddenly in the middle of a yawn," we said at the race track.
NaNo seems to be a nono. Page loading failure. I'm thinking it wants a day. Two. Five, too.
The servers get overloaded about this time of year.
I may not have a dishwasher or microwave here and the thermostats are dial, BUT they sent a link to e-pay my rent. This cracks me up. :)
I should have NaNo'ed. Oh well.
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