Wut up, you might well be asking.
I had plans for Wednesday and Thursday but they all came crashing down when I went full metal, 24 hour Nina (think Juliet Stevenson in Truly, Madly Deeply). I don’t think there was anything in particular to trigger this fresh tsunami of grief. I guess I don’t need prompts though – the monstrous, shocking enormity of losing TAB is enough.
|Yeah sure, he looks innocent here.|
What’d I do? Very little. No painting, no further prep work on the terra cotta, no studio moving or new camera figuring out. I was, however, able to get out of bed. I suppose that’s not much of a feat considering Rocco was engaged in his, now usual, insistent wake up call biz. It's impossible to remain prone when a scarred, hulking, panther of a feline is patting my head, stroking my chin and just plain old hovering like a vulture over roadkill.
After feeding the glowering herd, I had a few small layout/design jobs to do (hooray for distracting work!). I managed a bit of cleaning and sorting, a wee low tide beach walk, a tiny-ass trike ride, drinks with Jen and a BIG ol’ Big Bang Theory binge-a-thon. I even went out and bought a couple new disks (I’m on season three at the moment). All in all though, I feel as though I’m barely functioning.
Last night I was to attend my first South Shore Scribes MeetUp. It’s a group of writer types who meet to share their work, critique and encourage each other. The last bit on the webpage says:
Please bring 5+ copies of your work for other participants to read along, and be able to make comments and give feedback.
Serious writers only please
- I don’t know that I could be considered serious. No Vladimir Nabokov/Maya Angelou/Thomas Pynchon me.
- I’m deaf. This isn’t a group of deaf writers. Will I be able to follow along and engage? I can’t effectively lipread in large groups (this one can be as large as a dozen). While most people have those new smartphone thingies which have much better voice recog than my old iPad, that could put a damper on free flowing convo. That is, having to talk into a phone and then wait for me to read it, will slow things up. On the other hand – these are writers, talking about their/our babies/our work – this isn’t necessarily gonna be a coke fueled Algonquin round table (as entertaining as that, with closed captioning, would be).
In any case, I bagged on last night’s session. With this immense sorrow riding me like an elephant on a house-cat, I just couldn’t face the challenge of a group and, especially, one of non-signing people.
A) Will I be able to be an active participant or will my deafness be too great of a hurdle?
B) Will I be a frustrated lump in the corner, ducking out early in embarrassed, defeated chagrin?
I’m def planning to attend next week’s session. For the day or two beforehand though, I need my inner cheerleader to be on active, hopped up duty.