A Splintered Mind

As I sit here typing, the sun is setting—leaving golden hues on the tallest buildings. The sky is a gorgeous blue with streaks of white and purple-gray clouds. Two contrails leave a white scar in the air like a badly formed, backwards "Y". I notice all this and still my brain has not returned to me. First, the Storm Yesterday was a neurological nightmare, made worse by my ogre-like personality which was stoked by the electrical storm in my mind. I fell asleep around 11:30pm, early for me these days, and slept for four hours. Later I napped for two. Somehow this was enough to recharge my mind and give me enough presence to zip around town like a hummingbird on wheels. Even with the AC on full blast my brain still cooked due to our right passenger window being stuck open. My mind doesn't function well over 80°F and the minivan was at 92°F. Still… I'm glad that I was able to be useful. I dropped the Elf off at work and the Leprechaun off at play practice, I ...

My friend, Carol Lynch Williams (see photo), has given a brief round-up over at her Throwing Up Words blog now that WIFYR has come to an end. I had sacrificed attending this year so that my first college student could have a MacBook to attend classes with. I don't regret my decision, but I do wish I could have done both, especially considering that the conference was almost in my backyard. Well, if you must know, my neighborhood is actually not quite writer conference material. The "Dream On" exotic dancer club may have gone under, but there's still Hooters around the corner, two breweries, government housing, and the toxic waste land fill. My kids and I love playing there. We find the most interesting mutated critters. Still, ten minutes away might as well be in my backyard. I had planned on popping by and saying "Hi" to friends, but medical emergencies being time consuming and all, I never did. I may have to keep the kids away from that dump for a whi...

The Goblin has had seizures all her life, but none like today's. Most of hers only last for 15 minutes, but tonight's dragged on for what felt like a century. Two hours. Very traumatic; very unusual. Every time she wakes she becomes panicked and disorientated, also unlike any postictal state she's ever been in. Now she sleeps, deeply and soundly, while EEG leads stream away from her head, monitoring her quietly and preparing a story for the doctors to tell to us later this morning. I came prepared to read to her while we waited for doctors to tend her. I came prepared to kill time as we waited to be released. The Goblin always recovers quickly. She is not supposed to require IVs and EEG leads and sedatives and anti-seizure medication. She's supposed to wake from her postictal slumber refreshed with her broad smile, ready to play hard again. She's not supposed to wake up groggy and take six hours to finally recognize me. So I sit by her bedside as sentry fo...

Today was supposed to be my big "writer's escape". We can't afford to send me away to a workshop this year, not with the costs of computers and sudden car repairs being what they are. I can't even afford a weekend retreat locked away in a motel somewhere. But I could, theoretically, get away for a few days as long as I didn't actually go anywhere. The theory was that I would leave in the morning, hide away at Barnes & Noble or the library, and write my fingers off. The kids, the oldest being 15, would fend for themselves and my wife would take over at night more so than she usually does. I'd do it for three days and work exclusively on my work in progress—currently "Sneakers' Secret" ( #snkrz ). By isolating myself I would be able to immerse into the work. Immersion would allow my ADHD hyperfocus to kick in, right? That would summon my super writer powers like Dr. Blake smacking his cane on the floor and transforming into Thor. Well, I s...