Creative Control

Miscellaneous Mental Musings of an Emerging Artist

Regular checkups.

A few of my teeth and the gum area above them are experiencing periodic waves of intense pain, which means that I have to experience it too. And while I’ve determined that part of the way to deal with the pain is not to think about it, it’s difficult not to think about intense pain in the teeth.

The pain is also a result of guilt, as I know that it’s my own fault…I’ve been delinquent in getting checkups, and I’ve had a gingivitis problem for some time that I’ve avoided dealing with because I hate going to the dentist. And I think it’s less about the pain of dental work than it is about the scolding of the person doing the work.

Hosted a small gathering of my poetry group last night, and made chili for all. Went well, I think, and they’re just a fun bunch of people, regardless.

My friend Danielle has recently discovered the Live Journal, and as such, she’s been venting many of her frustrations and feelings into it recently. She’s really good at written venting, and I find myself in a positive-negative state about it, because as good as she is writing about how she’s been experiencing a “bitchslap of the heart,” I’d much rather read her eloquently describing her life going well.

I have to host a workshop reading of a play of mine that I have yet to finish (although that’s allowed). I’m trying to finish this play, the first full-length I’ve ever felt confident about completely finishing, not just for the workshop on Wednesday, but also because I’d like to send it off to the Illinois Arts Council by September 1st to apply for an Artistic Grant. I also have to remember to send off a ten-minute piece to a Chicago festival going up in October to arrive there by Friday (so I have to send it off today.)

And I’m hoping that I can do this all without being completely sidelined by the goddamn pain in my teeth. I need to check my company insurance plan to see which dentist I can go to under my insurance. (And crap…I need to pay for car insurance this week.) With any luck, I can get an appointment very very soon.

More later, perhaps. Perhaps not. Must work.


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This entry was posted on August 20, 2001 by in Life, Work, Writing.
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