two days to go for my birthday. this year it promises to be a very low key day. i can live with that. i have had three years of amazing birthdays. a surprise party on my fiftieth and then two more with shibble being around after years of her being away at school or university. one year she baked me cupcakes and the celebration lasted the entire weekend. that was my fifty-first. the next she flew in the night before from innsbruck and we had a day wandering and just doing what came spontaneously. it was a monday and deepak had to work. but we ended up in the paragon ps cafe at 5pm with the dark chocolate cake and the ginger pudding shared between the three of us. that was the fifty-second. it was just the right day i wanted for my birthday.
this year i am committed to some important work during the day and will be in the dojo in the evening. deepak and i will have a late b'day dinner i guess but shibi is still away and deepak too flies away early the next day. leaving me to spend most of my b'day week alone.
most times i love being alone. but this year i am not really wanting it. i feel sad in a low key kind of way. a way where i don't really protest it but nor do i forget it. perhaps other things are adding to that.
since the day itself is going to be very busy i am taking some time today to reflect on what i feel and to think about the last twelve months.
its been a year of upheava but i don't have much in terms of external change to show for it. externally it seems i am just where i was last year. that itself is interesting.
internally where people can't see i am a completely different person. and that i am happy about.
i still can't get italy out of my mind. it creeps in, i feel a squeeze in my heart and a dizziness of longing in my head. i want to be there. but over the last two weeks i have found my rhythm again - at least in writing and my volunteering. but the demoliton next door has been driving up my blood pressure and making my insides vibrate to the point where i close my eyes and cannot function anymore. i need to be home to write for i cannot lug my laptop, my files and index cards around all the time as i tackle my second draft.
and then my back. its gone back to high pain and i have had to spend time with my physio and cut down on training. that really depresses me and i haven't found my training rhythm at all yet.
today i did a very brave thing and sent out the first scenes of the second draft of my fantasy novel to two friends. my hands shook as i hit send. i am now googling how many drafts it takes to write a book and am relieved that many have said from 4 -13. i just don't want to write any book but the book that will tell the story my mind and heart want to tell. i want to write in a way that will reduce the gap of what i see in my mind and what i can express in words. for a first time fiction writer i feel i will probably need 6-7 drafts. i don't want to be stuck waiting till i get the perfect draft and never sending my book out to the world but i also want to write it well. i want to invite people into the world i create by good writing.
or i want to find out that words are not my medium of expression - not for a published book anyway - and so move on. let's see what happens.
i am thinking a lot about the rape last week in bombay of a young photojournalist. i am admiring how she went straight to the hospital despite being told by the rapists that they had shot pictures of her and that they would shame her by putting them on the internet if she reported the crime. i am admiring very much how she said, 'this is not the end of life.' this coming from a woman in a country where rape is a woman's shame and the end of a life worth living is incredible. she must have a great family i think. one of the rapists too obviously has a very supportive family. as soon as he was arrested his grandmother came forward with a birth certificate saying he was a minor. honestly i feel that if i could i would put his grandmother in jail too for doing this. the delhi rape trial has gone on too long and i think given adult rapists the feeling that they can get away with it and juveniles the certainty that they will.
on friday after i had read the news and despaired i waited at the bus stop in the afternoon to take a bus to the physiotherapist. two indian men were waiting there too. a strange thing happened to me. my hands curled into fists and my elbows tensed ready to become weapons. don't invade my private space, i thought or i will kill you. my eyes looked straight ahead but i watched them from the corners of my vision. one came close and my knees dropped ready to spring if needed. they probably were just 'normal', decent men. but i saw them as would be rapists.
i feel so hopeless as a woman in india. i am disgusted, angry, frustrated, in tears and much more. but somehow the spirit of this young woman gives me hope that change will come to my land. hoping that bombay handles it differently than delhi did.
glad that it is sunday and the demolition crew have the day off.
internally where people can't see i am a completely different person. and that i am happy about.
i still can't get italy out of my mind. it creeps in, i feel a squeeze in my heart and a dizziness of longing in my head. i want to be there. but over the last two weeks i have found my rhythm again - at least in writing and my volunteering. but the demoliton next door has been driving up my blood pressure and making my insides vibrate to the point where i close my eyes and cannot function anymore. i need to be home to write for i cannot lug my laptop, my files and index cards around all the time as i tackle my second draft.
and then my back. its gone back to high pain and i have had to spend time with my physio and cut down on training. that really depresses me and i haven't found my training rhythm at all yet.
today i did a very brave thing and sent out the first scenes of the second draft of my fantasy novel to two friends. my hands shook as i hit send. i am now googling how many drafts it takes to write a book and am relieved that many have said from 4 -13. i just don't want to write any book but the book that will tell the story my mind and heart want to tell. i want to write in a way that will reduce the gap of what i see in my mind and what i can express in words. for a first time fiction writer i feel i will probably need 6-7 drafts. i don't want to be stuck waiting till i get the perfect draft and never sending my book out to the world but i also want to write it well. i want to invite people into the world i create by good writing.
or i want to find out that words are not my medium of expression - not for a published book anyway - and so move on. let's see what happens.
i am thinking a lot about the rape last week in bombay of a young photojournalist. i am admiring how she went straight to the hospital despite being told by the rapists that they had shot pictures of her and that they would shame her by putting them on the internet if she reported the crime. i am admiring very much how she said, 'this is not the end of life.' this coming from a woman in a country where rape is a woman's shame and the end of a life worth living is incredible. she must have a great family i think. one of the rapists too obviously has a very supportive family. as soon as he was arrested his grandmother came forward with a birth certificate saying he was a minor. honestly i feel that if i could i would put his grandmother in jail too for doing this. the delhi rape trial has gone on too long and i think given adult rapists the feeling that they can get away with it and juveniles the certainty that they will.
on friday after i had read the news and despaired i waited at the bus stop in the afternoon to take a bus to the physiotherapist. two indian men were waiting there too. a strange thing happened to me. my hands curled into fists and my elbows tensed ready to become weapons. don't invade my private space, i thought or i will kill you. my eyes looked straight ahead but i watched them from the corners of my vision. one came close and my knees dropped ready to spring if needed. they probably were just 'normal', decent men. but i saw them as would be rapists.
i feel so hopeless as a woman in india. i am disgusted, angry, frustrated, in tears and much more. but somehow the spirit of this young woman gives me hope that change will come to my land. hoping that bombay handles it differently than delhi did.
glad that it is sunday and the demolition crew have the day off.
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