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Philadelphia Row is a term used, not only in Philadelphia neighborhoods, but elsewhere to refer to orderly rows of regularized housing.  
But there is nothing orderly or regular about any of the goings on in a Philadelphia Row.


READ SOME FICTION

Days 2 & 3 - Spinning in Immobility

10/4/2015

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   I signed up for a writing challenge to blog every day of October.  I figured it would be a great way prepare for Nanowrimo - which is a month of writing on one project with a goal of 50,000 words.     Day One I walked through my day with some fire in my belly knowing everything had the potential to show up here on this internet vent and although i should have retreated into my head to take notes on certain occurrances, I totally burst out with some things I should not have said and found the lesson of the day was simply, "sometimes i should close my mouth and walk out of the room."  
   When i had time to write about all the ups and downs of my day which were humorous in my opinion with the cathartic process of vomitting it through my fingertips on to the screen, i sighed heavily and my computer decided for me to shut down and walk away.  That is to say, the program stopped working and because i was writing ferociously, i had only saved the title, which was in fact, Day One.  
   It was after midnight, so Oct. 1 was now Oct. 2 and it was really day two then.  Already i felt overwhelmed and like i had failed.  
   I realized it was nothing more than expressing how once again i took on too much.  Even took that nifty photo of my dinner to illustrate i just didn't have time for one more thing, but i would try my best to get everything done.  
   Day two started with the same kind of hopefulness.  i had been struggling with depression for a few weeks and the constant churning in my head of what i needed to do was daunting - intimidating really.  I am overwhelmed at some giant task before me.  And if I'm ready to expose it to the world, I suppose the words will come through my fingers and my computer will let it remain on the screen to publish to the web of folks out there reading on the other sides of their computer screens.
   I've been living with my mom for a few months now.  It was just supposed to be a couple days when i could no longer walk in fear and insecurity within my home.  And now it is time to return, clean up and move forward.  I keep giving myself one more thing so I don't have time to go and do something as simple as bleach the stairwell.  The word that keeps popping into my brain is immobility.  I'm immobile right now.  I wake up and care for some of the things on my to do list and beat myself up for not completing all that i have taken on.  i allot an hour of writing here and there throughout my day as time allows and find some days i can't get to those sixty minutes - never beating myself up for neglecting something that would bring me pleasure.    So day two ended without a blog post, exhaustion and nothing of value except the motivation from my youngest baby to get that row house cleaned up so i can actually move back in and write within my home.  
   Day three, i woke with a sense of humility, believing i was not going to get anything done.  I had taken some time for me the night before and shared food, drink and merriment - i had no business in felicitious companionship when there was so much work to be done.  I figured out an extremely complicated coffee machine and then moved on with my day crossing things off my to-do list.  No time for writing.  No energy to walk back into the home i understand now i want to avoid.  
   i think i'm done this entry for now.  i'm floundering with how to cleverly find the words to allude to events in my life, keeping them broad and suggestive or just exposing myself with words that define the literal for my days.  i don't think i'm ready for either right now.​
   What i am ready for is to write again in my own row house and know the only way i'm going to do that is on this day four, under the title of a number that has followed me throughout my life, to make a huge step to return to the regular even if i can't ever get to the normal.

   

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    When Sevy realizes the pharmaceuticals keeping their bodies young are weened from those deemed to have exhausted their usefulness, he believes he must delve into the purpose of this synthesized society believing it is not much different than the life he lived on earth. 

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    Esther Elizabeth Buck 

    i'm halfway through my life with the stifled stories stirring.  i should have done it earlier, but i am on the
     write path finally.

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