NaNoWriMo is fast approaching–where the hell has 2024 gone? Seriously. I know that this is a trope, but it’s also true. Every year does, indeed, go faster than the year before. Yes, I know this is not possible, but I am also not possible. So there! Oh, and here is the post from yesterday.
I know why it is, of course. It’s beacuse when you’re a kid, a year is a huge chunk of your life. When you’re five, it’s one-fifth of your years on this earth! I remembering waiting or Christmas (when I actually believed in Santa–which was up to eight or nine) and it took F-O-R-E-V-E-R. Now, a year is but a sharp inhale or maybe the following exhale.
I’m fifty…ah…three? Yes. Fifty-three. I’m never quite sure because I always add a year to my age at some point before I turn the next age. No idea why, really. In Taiwanese culture, you’re one at birth, so maybe that has something to do with it? It doesn’t help that I consider September 3rd to be my re-birthday. (In that case, I’m three.)
Anyway. This year has just flown by. I think in part because I have been grieving since February. Grieving is strange. It makes time both expand and contract. Sometimes at the same time. It seems like just yesterday that the tragedy happened. At the same time, it seems like forever ago. I have not been able to write (except here) since then–which I’m sure is part of the issue.
It’s nearly November. It’s because I’m thinking about NaNoWriMo that I’ve been musing about time in general. And because it’s been three years of bonus days of which I’m feeling I’m not taking proper advantage. Ugh. That was a terrible sentence. Let me phrase it better. I died (twice) on September 3rd, 2021. I was not supposed to come back, but come back, I did. Twice! Only to fall back into unconsciousness again. I was in a coma for a week, and my medical team told my brother to start thinknig about pulling the plug. Strongly advised.
And then I woke up. And while I was drugged out of my mind, I was able to do everything reasonably well. And was back home in a little over a week. No rehab. No physical therapy. Still drugged the fuck up, but functional. I could not read for the first few days I got home (blurred vision), but that went away fairly quickly.
Well I went far afield there, didn’t I? Let’s get back to brainstorming what I want to do for NaNoWriMo this year.
