If you were currently in my head, you'd hear me say the term "next career" a lot. While it's not the newest of phrases, it seems common over the past few years as people are finding layoffs and unexpected job changes the norm. Once a person's life reaches a point where they would have to use a term such as "next career" their social media becomes a never-ending stream of inspirational quotes and memes, all of which I would ignore and hashtag something snarky (usually #eyeroll).
Another phrase you'll hear is my head is: "Aren't you tired of this already?" I'm not one to feel the pressure of age, per se, but I am approaching 40, and the part of my mind that's a project manager is wondering why I've missed so many milestones. Everything feels unfinished, chapters feel undone.
It's been almost a month and these are the first words I've written in that time-space. There were priorities to figure out, bills to get paid, sleep to catch-up on. Those "life" items seemed to be a culmination of the cycles I allow in my life and repeat, but why can't I just write?
I left out the "during all this" because it is an open ended question, one that speaks to what I've always wanted to do with my life and one that asks "why can't I just write during all this?"
Do you experience "creative droughts" when the pressures of life show themselves? I'd like to know.
Say what you will about the crazy, Shia can GET IT!
I was dreaming while I wrote
this, forgive me if it goes astray.Actually I’m just hungover.Give
me a hot bartender and I’ll put anything in my mouth.
I’ve been a very bad blog brother
to my sisters of the pen on here.Yes!I am reading their great
posts, but just HAVE NOT been able to comment or pimp their posts on my various
social media.Bad on me.
Last night I had to say goodbye
(for now?) to one of the biggest loves of my life and one of my most abusive
relationships, besides the one in my head.Say what you will about my work hours and my new duties on this project
just heaped upon me at good old MaBell, but there’s always been something else
taking up my time and at some points sucking the living essence out of my
already fatigued heart and mind.See, I
was fat, sullen, morose child, who read Mary Higgins Clark and Jackie Collins
and was too effeminate and nerdy to ever survive a gym class.The cruelties of high school aside (there
really is something to this homeschooling thing), I never thought I’d fall in
love with a sport.Of course I had to
pick a “girl” sport, but hey we gays love our strong women.That sport, volleyball, is and, at this
point, was a big challenge to master.Add into the mix, a predominately gay league, after surviving my college team, and you have the basis for one of my works-in-progress.
Maybe I miss Knots Landing a
little too much or I just wanted to know what it was to be one of the popular
kids.It’s both, or the latter, I’m
still mulling that in my head.And much
like Lillimae yelling at Josuha or Cady and Regina fighting, last night put me
over the respective ledge or threw me in front of the bus.Life is for the living, right? And mother has LIVED!
All that aside, my burst of writing that came with the holidays all but fizzled at this point. Words and scenes are still alive in me. Those words and scenes are no good to the world because they're not meeting the page. Unlike the me of my last post, the story is dying inside me!
Well, I don't want that. Next chapter, life. Time for the next chapter.
