, , ,

So yesterday I finally took my permit test and I’m that much closer to being a fully licensed adult —relax motorists you have at least a month’s worth of a grace period before the terror known as me joins you on the road. I find this all part wonderfully exciting and new as well as part very anti-climatic seeing as how I’m currently 20 years old and only just now getting around to doing this.

It’s been a trying week between long overnight hours babysitting and my day job working in the local grocery store. As those of you who’ve worked retail near a holiday knows: it’s the customers that can either make the day go fast in a good way or unbelievably slow in a bad one. The nice ones always make me feel a little bit better throughout the day and of course I have my favourites. The Fourth of July preparations at the store, of both customers and employees, has been frustrating to say the least and to add to the week’s list of trying details it has been dreadfully hot.

I do not like summer. At All. Between the biting bugs and the burning sun as well as the never-quite-dry feeling of muggy humidity; the week or rather the whole month has been a hot sticky mess. The rainstorms were a much needed but oh too brief reprieve.

I much prefer the brisk cool of autumn and the crispy sounds of dry leaves scraping across the pavement. The lovely assortment of witchy-things that go up about the trees and lawns. The wonderful anticipation of Samhain (Halloween) with sticky sweet candy, tasty apples and delightfully creepy otherworldly creatures running from house to house asking for treats or planning naughty tricks.

I miss the smell of pumpkin sweets and cinnamon and the welcome warmth of spiced cider. I’ve always been an Autumn child both being born on the 11th of October and finding comfort in the brief Autumn activities of Samhain and ghost stories. Halloween is my favourite holiday by far and I find the history and the mythology of autumn rituals fascinating.

And while I can talk about autumn and mythology all day the summer heat is sweltering and the home is woefully lacking in an air conditioner. The heat is distracting and making it very difficult to disappear into fantasies of autumns, let alone write.

And there in lies the real root of my frustrations. I haven’t been able to write. I know, I know that there’s the mantra of “If you wanna write, you have to make time!”. Which is all well and good in theory but when you have a day job, even if it’s only four or six hours as well as an overnight job watching children, which is considerably longer even if they’re all your siblings, it’s very hard to find the time where you can legitimately afford the energy expense.
“The baby’s sleeping? Well that’s the perfect time for you to write!” Not so much when the scant few hours the child is sleeping is when you should be trying to steal a few winks yourself. Especially if you want to have energy for your late morning shift.

The problem is time, if only there were more hours in a day. The heat doesn’t help either. Living by the sea gives the air a thick cloying weight that settles on the skin and refuses to let go. Its hard to write at the best of times but the pressing weight and mild fear of dehydration compounds it. But then again, if we all waited for the perfect conditions to do something, nothing would get done. I suppose that’s all that we can hope for, that the little sacrifices of comfort we make now will work out for us in the end. Which is why right now I’m writing when I should be sleeping, while the little tyke is out like a light before his next bottle feeding. I should be resting for my stressful and slogging shift. I’m writing because I promised myself that I would write. That this blog wouldn’t stay empty. I’m writing because I told myself that I’d finish the first draft of my novel before the summer is over and I won’t accomplish that by hiding from the heat and wishing for Autumns.

I can always reward myself later with tea and apple scones. But in the mean time there is work to be done.