Tuesday, October 29, 2013

in brief

My ultrasound, originally scheduled for today, was pushed back to Friday. The hospital called me yesterday to let me know--something about doctor's schedules, blah blah blah. Whatever. I want it over with. I'm trying to be patient. I'm keeping busy so I don't end up sitting around with it weighing on the brain. When I do think about it one of my hands has a tendency to go to my left breast and feel the lump(s) there. I've caught myself doing that on the bus and at work.

And the book. I did a lot of edits this weekend. There are more to do. I need to put up a stop sign, soon, and stick to it. I'm driving myself bonkers with the indecision, the exacto-knife manner at which I am going through each piece now. I try to stand on the outside lookin in on it, just as I get right in the middle and gaze out. One minute it makes sense, the next it doesn't. Will I find a place to be satisifed with it? I don't know. I don't think I'll ever be truly satisfied(hence the need for a stop sign). There is that thought that always happens with putting together a body of work--this sudden need to put in everything I've ever written, as if there will never be another shot. The truth is, dear self, there will be other books. There will be more written. This collection doesn't necessarily need another head or extra limbs. It's getting there but it's still not quite. And the not-quite part of it is driving me up the damn wall.

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