Discipline

Okay, so once upon a time there was this girl who wanted to be a writer, except that she couldn't commit to one thing that she was writing, see? Instead, she started ten different stories that she works on whenever the mood happens to strike, and if it doesn't happen to strike then she ignores them for months or just starts another one so that then there're twelve or thirteen. Did I skip a number? Sometimes she skips a number. Anyway, she has to have 20-30 pages of what she considers her "best work" by the end of December, but it could take twenty years to actually finish anything, because at the rate she's going she'll have to finish everything. Granted, in twenty years, she'll have fifty or sixty books all finished at the same time (roughly), and a publisher might think that was nice, but it does no good, absolutely no good at all for December, because December is less than twenty years away. She needs discipline. Yes! Discipline would be good. If she had discipline then maybe she could live happily ever after. Or not. Depending on which story she had the discipline to finish.

born yesterday

That whole thing about the joy of motherhood? True. Really. I fully expected that it would take me several weeks to bond with my new little bundle of joy, since I am not so much a bonder. You know, I'm not the one who feels deeply connected to most people, not the one to get homesick, not the one to call anyone for any reason (I drift from friends who move away). I was a little surprised that I bonded with the kid right away, love at first sight and all that. Weird. It's possible that he's making me more human. I cry a lot more, which I think is probably due to the hormones, but at least I cry over things it makes sense to cry over. I never used to do much of that, even. Appropriate crying. I rarely felt any strong emotions before. Not that I was numb or anything, I just had admirable self-control. That's what I thought anyway. I think now that I was mostly just out of touch with myself.
Since I've had the kid, I've been sad, I've been angry, I've been depressed, I've been silly, I've been bored, I've been fascinated, I've been totally confused about my goals and purpose in life. I've been awake. I've realized I don't really believe a lot of what I say and that there are things I believe that I've never said out loud. I've admitted what a decietful, dishonest person I am, and begun to realize the implications of that for who I am. I've realized I don't really know who I am. I've realized it matters to me to find out.

The baby knows my voice now. When he hears it he realizes he's hungry, which doesn't do a whole lot for my sense of self-worth, being essentially nothing more than a food supply, but it makes me realize something. He knows my voice. Someday, I'd like to hear my own voice and recognize it.