36 Weeks

2018-08-03 -- 1:28 p.m.

I used to write. I was a writer - if someone asked me what I did, I'd say, "Writer." Now I don't know. I've been a journalist for many years now, writing for magazines and television and online. I've even been publisher of some magazines, which surpasses any of my previous ambitions. Every time I do that (surpass ambitions), it's always quite anti-climatic. It's simultaneously difficult and daunting and easier than you'd think, always. At least it has been so far.

I got laid off again about a month ago. I was the publisher of Maclean's and Chatelaine, which seems like a joke. It doesn't seem real, that I would have done that. I didn't do it for very long, about a year, and I only wrote two pieces in the last year. They were both about my experiences with infertility, which I guess is lazy. But going through the process of fertility treatment was extremely laborious so maybe it evens out.

But I haven't done any real writing in so long that I don't feel like a writer anymore. I have lost the knack. I read my contemporaries' writing now and then and am left underwhelmed. I feel that my own writing is just as underwhelming, so instead of working harder to get to something better, I stopped. How can I judge other people's writing if I don't do any myself?

I'm 36 and a half weeks pregnant with twins. Our small house is peppered with baby things on every floor. A stroller, cribs, bouncy chairs, toys, baby books, bottles... I've rid myself of anything extraneous. Which is good for minimalism but also sort of threatening. Scary, having these two new people that we went to such great lengths to make, to come live here in this house with us.

It's August and I've been sitting in this house for over a month now. I can't walk very far or do very much, I can't be productive. The hormones make me foggy and I don't feel like reading. I feel lost, a little. I lost my job, literally, and that's made me like a part of myself is lost. I am losing my things, my job, my identity. It's good to lose who you are once in a while, so you build your self back up again. I do this every few years, so it's not unfamiliar. It's strangely comforting for me, actually.

Usually I accomplish this by leaving Toronto and starting a new life somewhere else. Now it's happened around me organically. I guess perspective could even make you feel like it's refreshing. I feel like I'm wasting time, playing games on my phone, but no matter what I'm doing in life I feel like I'm wasting my time. I always feel like I should be doing better and more. I want to accomplish something. Right now I'm making two humans with my body, which is physically the most difficult thing I've ever done. But it doesn't feel very impressive or productive. I'd rather be travelling the world or at least working out, but all I can do is sit down and sometimes clean.

I should have written a book or screenplay by now. But ... you have to commit the act of writing to have written something.


before || after

last five is the shit:
36 Weeks - 2018-08-03
some nights the blood from real cuts feels real nice when it's really mine - 2018-03-20
maybe I don't want to write an informative book about a 90s television show - 2017-03-30
maybe I don't want to write an informative book about a 90s television show - 2017-03-30
greener grass - 2014-11-12

small
epiphany
email
older
diaryland
gbook
robert
samra
noalarms
andrea
two-faced