Oh! Sing a Lament for the Life of a Blog! Or... Don't. Plus!: Old News!

I noticed the other day how much my Bloggy Goodness Output has dropped (oh so steadily) since 2006, and then especially dramatically since 2008, as indicated by my sidebar. I suppose 102 posts in 365 days is quite a bit (Possibly padded somewhat by pictures which counted as one post each...? Yes. Definitely.), and I'm not going to try to reach those heights again, but I don't want it to keep dropping at this rate, either.

Facebook is partly to blame. I think I'd like to do a lot more posts like the last one, which started life as a facebook status update, and then migrated. Only, in the future, I'll just let such things import to facebook, rather than starting them there. I will think about making them as status updates, but then I will stop myself: "Wait, no!" I will say. "A short blog post! That's what's needed here!" That's the plan. Aside from updates I don't actually want to keep public, or updates that are only a sentence long. (Ha! How often is that gonna happen?!)

To be fair to facebook (Why? That's no fun!), it's been good to the blog in other ways, ways that don't have to do with the sheer quantity of material. With the post importing feature, many people read random posts of mine they never would've read otherwise. So that's cool. But that can still happen if I make fewer status updates and more blog posts. And then I'll have more of my writing together in one place, and update the blog more often... yay. Good things.

Sort of kind of also along those lines, there's a blog post I started writing on April 30th this year which I never published, and it's been bugging me. Especially since it involved talking about writing goals that I met, and I'd like to start posting goals again, but then I'd rather not before I actually post what I've already written on that topic... It'd be like forcing you to come in in the middle of the conversation. Er, monologue. Only not really probably, probably it wouldn't even be noticeable. But... um, you get the idea?

The reason I never published it... well, for a clue, look to the original title: "Chapter 371: In Which the Blogger Writes of Writing Goals Met, and a Kind of a Win, and Megan Whalen Turner, and a Couple Cool Links, and the Results of The Alzheimer's Blogging Competition, and... Okay, That's It." Yeah.

Another part of it was that I wasn't sure how much to say about Megan Whalen Turner. I met her at the LA Festival of Books, but somewhere in the process of writing the post I looked her up online, noticed that she isn't very comfortable with having stuff about her up online (scroll down through the link), and began to wonder how much I should really say. Probably beyond the point of reason, as she seems to be talking more about bio type stuff, but... I'm not completely sure on that. And she's so explicit, with the "I'd rather that you didn't either," so I shall err on the side of quietness and cut what I was going to say. Because she's awesome, and it's well worth respecting her wishes. If you ask me in person, I'd be happy to talk about the event. Maybe someday I'll even write up a proposed post and send it to her for permission. Maybe. But not right now.

What I shall do now is give you the rest of what I did write on April 30th. I could try to finish writing and editing it just as I had originally intended it, as its own post without all this intro, but... that was taking forever. (Yes. More forever than this.) So I'll give you the incomplete version. Merry Christmas. You're welcome. (No, I'm not that arrogant. I'm quoting Raj! Clearly.)

"A lot of things to blog about today. Many of them deserve their own posts, and maybe one will get one later (though... good intentions or not, it's honestly a bit doubtful), but I might as well just post them all now. Better for each topic to have a post, shared with other topics, rather than to have no post at all, right?

Perhaps I'll go in the rather arbitrary order listed in the title. So. The writing goals set forth in "Chotto..." on Sunday were not completely met. But I did a lot more writing this week than in previous weeks, and I'm happy with that. It was a semi-decent pace. Even some of my slowing down was fruitful, a bit of time needed to stop and contemplate what might happen next, and whether or not I should really still keep it going in that direction, given one slightly unexpected development. I'm okay with a certain amount of sitting and staring out the window daydreaming, as long as I'm still doing enough writing that I am consistently daydreaming. Actual action is very helpful for keeping the story present in one's head, and not forgotten for most practical purposes...

So, I wrote that Healer scene, from Beth's perspective this time (which I apparently had started on before, but I didn't get very far, and I ended up writing it differently), and I wrote most of her journey home, I think. Including some general summary paragraphs, and one scene that I'm rather fond of at the moment. Though it may be too intense. Not sure yet. It's possible that I've put other characters of mine into situations just as or more traumatizing, but... well, Beth is the one I keep shaking my head at and saying, "Wow, I've traumatized her. Poor Beth." Yeah... That may just be because I haven't done as much writing for some of those other characters. They're more roughly sketched out, or they aren't as major characters for their books... The first person point of view makes it a bit tricky, too. I think it has to be in first person, but... aaeeh. I mean, I really like that scene I just did, despite the intensity. We'll see. Maybe... Well, I suppose I like reading that sort of thing myself. Maybe I'm not writing for people who don't like that. Sorry, this train of thought is highly influenced by the Megan Whalen Turner topic coming up, but I'm not there yet. Wait your turn, Mr. Topic, sir. Um.

I did not finish the journey completely, or start on the scenes at home. That part, not done.

In the course of writing that scene I liked and its aftermath, I accomplished something else unrelated to my goals, but a thing I find to be a kind of cool marker: I passed 50,000 words. And actually, unlike in NaNoWriMo, where you even count words you're going to delete later (by italicizing them, if you must), this is not counting those words. I sort of kept them, by using the Track Changes feature in Word, but that means the word counter doesn't count them. I'm pretty sure. In other words, I have more than won a NaNoWriMo event with this novel, finally!  Kind of sort of. I mean, it took a year and a half instead of a month... That's quite relevant. Technically, by the rules of NaNo, it's not a win. But something to be proud of?  Sure. It's way harder to keep slogging through, to write when there's no fun-month-thing hanging over your head, to just keep writing day in and day out, than it is to write in the excitement, when you know that next month you can just pick up the other pieces of your life, that IT'S ONLY A MONTH, AFTER ALL. In real life you have to find a balance, and sometimes discipline in one area translates to no discipline in another area (like writing), and man it's so much easier to curl up with someone else's good book, and I don't know what happens next anyway (okay, that can be a NaNo excuse, but the proliferation of other excuses in the non-NaNo times can make it feel stronger, more valid), and... well, so on.

It's still not up to the pace a career novelist would write at. Not by a long shot. But it's something. It's a heck of a lot better than the pace I was writing at before I ever did a NaNo.

And, let me remind myself:  50,000!!!  There. That's better. Heh. Makes it the longest of any of my works thus far... for now. That will change.

Today I went to the LA Festival of Books, and I saw Megan Whalen Turner at a panel I attended, and the signing after. It was awesome, and there's so much I could say about it, I'm not sure what to say. But I wore my "I'm blogging this." T-shirt, so I should say something. 'Course, I wore that shirt for the Patrick Rothfuss signing too, and I never did. Just posted a few pictures to facebook. Lame. I should totally write about that signing. But again, so much to say..."

Yeah, this is where I cut a couple things I was going to say. Ha! Consider yourself taunted!

"Next topic." Which... is all I had written after the Megan Whalen Turner part. I don't think I'm going to bother with the "Couple Cool Links" part of my original title. But I do want to finally write about the results of the Alzheimer's Blogging Competition, since I still haven't done that yet.

So here. Have a link to the results. I really liked and strongly recommend reading the winning post. And then... I'm listed second. Not explicitly or officially as second place, but... I'm going to think of it that way, anyway. ^_^  Because I can. (And because, if I ever mention it in a query letter, calling myself the "first runnerup listed, although not officially second place" is just... awkward.)

Yes. I could definitely use more of the short posts.

Alzheimer's Blogging Competition

Thank you to Chrissy for pointing out this competition to me. I had already written my post Meditations on a Parent with Dementia, and I decided to make that my entry. I played with the idea of changing it a little, as it was initially focused on writing to friends and family, but decided to leave it completely as is. Well, aside from marking it as an entry, and linking to the competition and rules.

So... this post is to draw attention to that post. Again. The competition is intended to raise awareness and funds for Alzheimer's research, so it seems only polite to post again and say that I've entered and point to the The Disabled Shop Blog, even though I first wrote my entry before I found out about the competition.

Meditations on a Parent with Dementia

averagecats.com: 1026 

3/28/11 Update: I am retroactively making this blog post an Alzheimer's Blogging Competition Entry. To enter the competition, donate $1 or more, write your post, and email the organizers. For more details, see the Disabled Shop Blog.

For those of you who don't know, my mom was diagnosed with vascular dementia last October. I hadn't told all that many people until recently, but I bet many of you who read this are my family members, so I'm pretty sure you're aware of it.

But for those who didn't know, I'll answer the FAQ I've noticed from telling people in person: She's only 69, not as old as one might expect, for dementia. It's probably because of her heart problems, since it's apparently reduced blood flow to the small blood vessels in the brain that's causing her difficulties.

I've played with the idea off and on since the diagnosis of blogging about it. There's just so much that feels odd about the whole situation to me. I suppose it comes of having a new experience, never lived through before, which is fortunate. I'm glad it's my first time living through a parent having dementia. Sometimes I feel guilty that I can be so detached at times -- not so much caught up in the event itself, or concern for my mother, as in writing in my head about my own reactions and emotions, and even writing about writing about it!  But it's not necessarily as bad as all that -- I think writers can have a tendency to sit back from themselves and observe moments of grief, like C.S. Lewis' A Grief Observed, although I won't compare myself to him in any other respect. Writing is how writers make sense of the world, and we have to observe to write.

Yesterday the church I work at had a Mass for Alzheimer's patients and their families, and I was able to attend part of it. Thinking about going, that morning, is what made me start to take notes on my voice recorder as I drove to work, about actually going ahead and writing this post, and about what I wanted to say. I'm glad. Whether it's a helpful thing to read or not, it's very good to get it all out and off my chest. It was a beautiful service, too. Maybe next year I can bring Mom with me.

I must make the disclaimer, though, that this is my own personal reaction to her dementia, and it doesn't necessarily share anything in common with that of my siblings. Every person is different, and every relationship with a parent is different. I cannot speak for them. (Or for you, perhaps I should say, if you are the ones reading this.)

While I'm doing disclaimers, I should explain that Mom is still in pretty early stages. She can still recognize people, her memory isn't all that bad. It's her processing speed, her words, and her decision-making that seem to be most affected for now. She gets confused easily and has trouble telling stories. Ah, those are understatements. Everything is much more so than what would first come to mind when you hear a symptom like "confused easily." She can be left alone, but she couldn't live completely on her own. Her declines seem to come in spurts; she'll seem the same for a while, then get worse really fast, then stabilize again, and so on. I'm not around nearly as much now that I'm not working for Jeff anymore, but I know that's how it was.

Now, disclaimers and explanations aside, time for my couple observations. Maybe my first observation should be about that "meta-observation" I've already talked about, that sitting back and writing in my head. In a more sinister form, I have a tendency (in everything, not just this) to secretly want everyone to know, to understand and pity me. I want to be the hero of my own story. It's... human, I suppose. Especially growing up in such a big family, without much attention. I've come to peace with the fact that a certain amount of desire for attention isn't sinful -- we all need love, and no one can love without giving attention. It's okay to desire love, it's just important to be more focused on giving love than on receiving it. That doesn't mean one can't think about receiving it at all. I think. And attention seems to be the same way.

It's understandable too, as a writer. Framing your life as a story may not be a bad thing; so long as you realize that you aren't the hero of the story, or even a hero at all, necessarily. So I try not to take a sick pleasure in pain (not really an issue in the most painful moments), and remind myself that yes, this is a big deal; and yes, it's okay to want your friends to know.

I suppose my second observation is that pain comes and goes in waves. Sometimes I sincerely feel fine, and it doesn't seem difficult at all. It's the way things are, the way things have been, and putting it into words feels melodramatic and unreal; not an actual reflection of my life and my relationship with my mother. A side-effect of gradual change, perhaps. In fact, when my mom and dad and sister first got back from the neurologist and I heard how it went, the predominant emotion was relief; finally, we knew what was wrong, what to expect, and someone had taken her seriously. This story certainly didn't begin at the time of diagnosis, though diagnosis made the story easier to tell, easier to frame in one's mind. It was an answer to prayer.

Other times I don't feel fine at all. Very soon after that relieved, calm moment when I first found out, I decided to look into descriptions of vascular dementia online. That was a mistake. I freaked out, and no matter how often I've started writing this blog post in my head, I haven't thought much since then about what Mom's dementia could look like in the future, or how it might progress. Steadfastly ignoring the future might sound unhealthy, but I'm not sure.

You see, a diagnosis is helpful in terms of what to expect. You stop suspecting yourself of going crazy. Even though I knew before that neurologist appointment that something was wrong that my mom couldn't control, I've been much more patient in my interactions with her afterwards. It's so much easier to be patient. Simple interactions now seem overwhelmingly sad, but at least I don't get mad at her. Normally.

But on the other hand (and this is where I come back from my tangent to talking about ignoring the future), in some ways it's not helpful at all, because even now no one can tell you what to expect. My brief stint looking it up online told me that very quickly. It just varies too much, from person to person. There are averages, but no one can really tell me how much longer my mother is going to live, or what's going to happen in the meantime. Apparently the decline is faster (on average) with vascular dementia than with Alzheimer's, but that was about as definitive as anything got.

So... I could play out painful scenarios in my mind, but maybe (yeah, I'm not quite sure) I'm glad that my brain seems to be shying away from that. I can think about everything else relating to her dementia, in the present and in the past and in every aspect of my own reaction to it, but the future... I think maybe one thought, then flinch away, like the instinctive reaction to testing a broken bone. All I know is that I want to have kids while she can still recognize them.

I suppose... When I was a kid, I think the very first time I heard about Alzheimer's I thought it sounded like the worst thing that could happen to a person. It seemed incredibly sad. I wouldn't say the worst, anymore, but it still seems tragic. Maybe that's why I won't let myself imagine it going that far with my mom. And maybe that's part of what makes it seem so unreal right now -- yes, it's hard, watching her seem to... lessen... but it's not yet what I would visualize, thinking of dementia or Alzheimer's. The worst hasn't happened yet, and I can't quite make myself believe that it ever will. Though the possibility still has a weight, to nag on the edges of my brain.

One aspect of pain coming in waves is that, when I'm already sad about something else, those are often the times I start thinking about Mom more, and I become sadder. It's like it's just waiting there, in that emotion, for me to join it and think about it. Which may be a good thing. Intermittent grieving... it may be too much to handle, to feel the full weight all at once, or all the time. If gradual change is what gives me the ability to not always feel pain, all the time, at the loss of the person my mom was, and the relationship I had with her, such as it was... then I'm glad of gradual change. Even if it means living with it for longer. I think.

I haven't been very close to her, not for a long time. But she is still my mom. The exasperation I first felt, when her symptoms were first appearing and sometimes seemed exactly like how my mom had always been, only more so... well, that exasperation shifted to guilt shifted to sadness. I suppose I grieve the impossibility of ever having a deep relationship with her, now. I already knew I couldn't, to some extent, but this made it more real. At the same time, I do have a chance to change in how I respond to her. I have a chance to be patient and loving with her... in the extreme, actually. There's a book I plan on reviewing later, After You Believe by N.T. Wright, which talks about the gradual formation of virtue, and how it takes practice for something to become second nature. Well, if dealing with a confused parent isn't good practice in developing patience, I don't know what is. And... it's a good thing, to have that chance to deal kindly. Not that one can "make up" for earlier, impatient times, but it's still good, I think.

And that's all I have to say about that. For now. I'll keep you posted.