Creep at the Carnival

Last night I felt like a creep. I didn’t do anything wrong, mind you.

We are preparing to go on a trip soon. I like to call them adventures; we don’t have much planned out yet. But we bought new heavy duty backpacks and we’re feeling pretty ready to go. My husband wanted to try them out, so since we were going to the local Catholic School carnival, we’d get some walking in and this could be a good opportunity to try them out.

He loaded mine up with books and water bottles, which I thought was a bit excessive, considering it won’t be our main luggage, but used mostly for a large daypack.

We got some pretty strange looks when we show up childless, huge backpacks and taking pictures. I felt like a predator trying to take pictures of carnival rides and treats for sentimental and blog sake, while trying to avoid capturing the children belonging to the parents eerily watching us. Maybe we should have gone on a ride or two, or not acted as awkward as we appeared. Maybe we should’ve played another game besides the one where you use a big rifle to shoot out the paper star. Maybe we shouldn’t have run off with that stroller…

Just kidding.

We aren’t creepy generally, but we definitely appeared odd. Needless to say, I captured some decent shots and we determined that our backpacks are sufficient enough to join us.

Note to self: Next time bring friends with kids so we don’t feel so out of place; or at least don’t look like we’re surveying prospective kids to kidnap and take camping.

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I’m starting to see a trend that my Sunday posts are not so inspired. It makes me wonder if posting every day is working against me. I like to feel inspired to write, or have a goal, so instead of waiting for that to happen, I’ve forced myself into a spot of obligatory random writing. Some days, there just isn’t a lot to say.

I don’t know if any of you writers out there feel this way, but I find I must have my workspace in a very particular manner to feel right when I start writing. I really haven’t had an ideal workspace in…wow, ever? Maybe once or twice I had a random station set up that felt do-able or felt at home in a cozy café, but this is all about to change.

We have two guest bedrooms in our home and no guests. Not often enough to have two rooms set up, anyway, and one in particular was never used in almost four years. Today, the amazing husband, (insert Superman theme here) spent the day helping* me swap furniture to other rooms, the attic and the basement, in order to make one of the guest rooms exclusively my office. It’s not a shared space, which will find my desk serving as a table for fresh towels or a suitcase.  It will really be my room.

*His “helping” by the way is a loose translation of: He did almost all the work. I try not to just be a supervisor, but I’m also a weakling.

The room isn’t right just yet. I need blinds in there so I can work at night without feeling creeped out. I’m thinking I’m glad I never had a guest sleep in there, with the lack of blinds and sheer curtain issue. We’ll paint and move all those books onto some shelves, but my desk is in there and that is a start. And by “we”, I’m fully investing in getting this done, paint speckles in my hair and all.

I find that setting my environment to the right kind of writing mood helps, and maybe I will be more inspired in there, than with the laptop in bed while I rush to meet my personal deadline. The daily deadline, by the way, I keep missing because there is no real punishment resulting from a late post.  The worst that can happen is that I say “Damn it” and keep writing. After all, this is not a real job, though I wish it could be.  Maybe I should set real goals so I go to bed earlier and post timely.

Shannon: No cookies if you post after midnight…got it?

Oh, and also, stop thinking up good ideas, composing them in your head while you drive or do dishes and then not write them down.  You get proud of yourself and think you’ll remember but you never do.  You’re killing me.

And with that, I say, “Good night”.