A Corner, Turned.

voltee ♦ January 23, 2011 ♦ 5 Comments

Item: Sweatshirt Color/Fabric: Raisin, polyester/rayon/spandex Designer: Mossimo Where Purchased: Target Years Owned: 4
What an eventful Saturday! There was a very fun rehearsal, some relaxing, more sugar than a hummingbird, one Christmas tree successfully dismantled, and Sex and the City. Plus, I nearly burned down the house with a careless microwave setting. No fire, thankfully, but I did end up with some very scorched Rubbermaid. Excitement!
Speaking of Sex and the City, it’s been so long since I’d seen it. And, oh, I love it so!
I watched the entire series on my treadmill (not all at once, of course!) shortly after we’d moved here. It’s hard to tell what I loved most; the city, the fashion, or Carrie Bradshaw.
It might be Carrie. I wish I had more Carrie-ish stories to tell you.
She makes me hate all of my clothes, though. Except she did help me eliminate some buyer’s remorse for the completely over the top piece I got last week and will tell you about soon. Carrie would absolutely wear it, so I might just keep it.
Anyway, what can I do when I hate my wardrobe except write about a sweatshirt?
There was a time when this was my favorite sweatshirt. It had quite a lovely drape, and graceful batwing sleeve. Plus, it’s cozy and soft. I loved it.
Then I washed it, and, surprisingly, it shrunk a little. Now it doesn’t drape quite as nicely.
I wore this three years ago when we took a little jaunt to Tennessee, in Gatlinburg. Gatlinburg is sort of like Orlando with Dolly Parton. It’s a mixture of obnoxious and good old fashioned fun. Nate was judging a gymnastics meet there, and I came along for the fun.
I also went to finish writing my book.
I didn’t end up having a choice, since I sprained my ankle the first day we were there. I was shut up in a room, by myself, with a laptop. And so, I wrote.
Mostly it was wonderful. There was a baby that cried, without ceasing, for two days that was very distracting. And then I got thrown for a bit of a loop when Heath Leger died. I felt such sadness and confusion, and I’ll never forget it.
But still, I did it. I wrote the ending. I waited until Nate came back from the meet to type the very last word, so that he could take a picture. This is it:

It was a lovely retreat for writing, with the fireplace, and wooded balcony. I really couldn’t have asked for better.
But it’s bitter sweet to see this photo. My face just kills me. The excitement. And I just can’t believe that three years has gone by, and I have essentially done nothing at all with my book. Three years! It’s so much time to waste. I did squeak in a few minor revisions, I think. But really I’ve just let it drift away.
An old friend I hadn’t seen in a while asked me about it yesterday, and I felt ashamed to tell him that I’d done nothing with it, hadn’t even tried. Packed it away, buried, and forgotten it. I wanted to cry.
I still have some corners that I need to turn in my head, some barriers that need to be crossed. And right now I don’t have any idea of how to get there. But I am determined to keep trying.
I’m certain that I haven’t worn this sweatshirt since that day. I just look at it and remember that I was wearing this on the day that I finished my book, and it makes me feel like a coward for letting it go. And too sad to wear it.
Should I, though? I can’t understand why I associate this with a feeling of failure rather than accomplishment, but I do. And I can’t make it go away. Should I keep trying?

**This might be a talisman. Maybe there is a type of magic in it. I feel I have to keep it, until my novel is satisfactorily completed.