imaginarycircus

Step on a crack and break your mother's back.

My mother had so many problems when I was a kid: manic depression, severe agoraphobia, low self esteem, being widowed at age 25 with a three year old kid, but I worried about stepping on cracks for years. She didn't need more problems. Ironically she did break her back when she was very sick and the tumors had invaded her spinal column and made it horribly fragile.

Don't put a hat on the bed, open an umbrella in the house, walk under a ladder, break a mirror, spill salt without throwing some over your shoulder...

My mother was so smart and yet so irrationally superstitious. I sit on the fence here. I like science. I like math. I believe in Occam's razor and logical deduction. But I can't give up my fascination with Tarot cards or horoscopes or signs that are either bad or possibly good.

I had a hell of a time writing yesterday, but I soldiered through. I was worried about today. I slept almost not at all last night. And it is raining like hell for the third day in a row. But while I was searching for alligator clips this morning I found this:



It's the bloodstone we bought in Boulder almost two years ago. It's the stone people are turned into by the Gorgon in my novel. I'm getting close to rewriting/editing that scene and it's been hanging over my head for months--getting through this part of the rewrite, which includes a very difficult scene and I've been avoiding it.

So finding that little dark green heart feels like a sign. And even if it is just happenstance I am taking it as a sign. Because I need signs. I need encouragement like plants need water.

If I can work for three hours today I'll be happy. Here I go.