I have come to the conclusion that its time. It’s time to stop pussy footing around with my writing and to get serious. As I have mentioned in the past, I am not a follow thru kind of person. I hate responsibility and dependence. I think I would rather eat moldy cheese and that is gross. Okay, maybe that is an exaggeration. Regardless, I enjoy writing so much. I literally sit at my desk and type away. If I do not have a subject I find the day boring and long. However, when I am inspired-watch out. I was in the shower this morning minding my own business and it occurred to me that it is time.
I think the only talent I have, other than amusing myself (which some might argue is not a talent), is writing. I get some good feedback. I know it is hard work. I know this as I have been doing it since like 9. That’s whooooa….almost 30 years. Four years shy of 30 but damn….that’s a long damn time. I might as well make it mean something. I might as well do my best to chisel my name in people’s hearts with my words. I don’t feel this is an impossible feat. I just need a formula. The motivation is there today. Hopefully it sticks with me. I get wonderful ideas all the time. Sometimes it is hard to decipher whether it is a great idea or a really horrible one. Often times I find out the hard way which is okay because I can chalk it up to experience.
If Elizabeth Wurtzel’s “More, Now and Again” book could get people to buy then it is not crazy to think someone would buy mine. I read her book. I read all her books. Mostly famous for, “Prozac Nation”, her “More, Now and Again” book was a dive. All she wrote about was writing. It was extremely boring and incredibly dumb, at least in my opinion. A book that you finish because you already invested so much in it and you hope the end chapter makes the hours you just wasted of your life matter. But it didn’t so don’t be fooled. In any case, books like that give me hope.
I went on a Stephen King kick a few years back. Not him specifically as his writing doesn’t much appeal to me but to his extended family such as his son and daughter in law. Kelly Braffet I wanna say is her name. Not a good writer. His son, Joe Hill, not a good writer. I abandoned his book half way thru because it was so horrible and pointless. I usually do not do that. I usually stick it out especially if I make it half way through; but it was not only wasting my time, I think it was making me dumber as well.
Of course, this new idea might get me through to next week and then be abandoned. But, it’s really something I have wanted as a life goal/dream since I can remember. In fact, I was going to be a romance writer. Funny, I know considering my feelings on love. Romance I am a master but love well, that isn’t anything I want a part of. I have a few ideas in my head about this book idea. I have a book in rough format currently that was a “brilliant” idea two or three years ago. That book is basically research, something more doable then an autobiography. I really don’t want to embarrass my family by writing about my alcoholic mom or what not. That is what holds me back. I have no problem writing of rape or jail. I could care less if people know about me but it’s the others I feel I have to protect.
Again, this may never come into fruition but then again it may just. I am just giving you fair warning. Cause once I am “all that” I don’t want you to think I will abandon you. I promise, I won’t. I know that is your top concern. I don’t blame you really, I know I am fabulous. I am in love with me too, but save it for another day. I cannot handle it now. Not with all this creative energy flowing through me. As you might guess, I am slightly manic. Maybe not fully, but it is brewing. A month ago I was so low I started writing you letters, last week I was googling ways to die and now this week, this week I am on a mission. It’s really exhausting being me. I know I tell you I am mentally ill and I hope that doesn’t leave you with the impression that I truly am crazy. I really am not. I had the taste of crazy this week and that type of crazy don’t even have a clue that they are different. It is sad really. No, I think I am the type of crazy that was meant for greatness. A craziness that is fun and exciting. A fresh breath of air. At least, today, I think this. Tomorrow I might be shit on the wall but today, today I am a fucking super star.
I made a new friend. His name is Scott. I met him briefly at a “hip hop” show. It was a metal show my cousin tricked me into going to under the premises that it was “like hip hop”. It was not hip hop at all. It now remains a running joke. I took him to a real hip hop show which was yours in Madison. Anyways, Scott and I connected over Facebook. Since November we talk often. I don’t mind him. He is married which makes me feel safe. Like no pressure to be anything but myself and no creeper hitting on me. Just last week he laid it on me that he was an amputee. I am not sure if he thought I wasn’t going to be his friend anymore or what because he made a big deal out of it. I suppose I might be self-conscious about it as well if I were in his shoe. Apparently a drunk driver ran off a racetrack and plowed into four people. Him being one of them and him being the most injured of them. I think I am supposed to help him find peace with it or some shit. I think that is why there is a connection.
Have you ever read “The Celestine Prophecy” by James Redfield.? It is a favorite of mine. I could send you a copy if you need one. Just blink once for no and twice for yes. I think I have three copies. I buy certain books in multiples so I can share them with others. If you haven’t read it, it is a must read. I think you would enjoy it. And if not, then you don’t and I was wrong and it’s not the first or the last time that will happen so no matter. Regardless, I believe in connections like it preaches about in that book. I believe in meeting people for a reason. I think that it was not a coincidence that he came into my life. Especially last week when he laid it on me that he had lost a leg while I was googling ways to die as if my life was anything compared to his. I am healthy. I have two legs. A great job. I have a wonderful family. The perfect cat. The perfect imaginary boyfriend, (that would be you…shhhhhhh). I really honestly have nothing to complain about. It is simply depression that seeps into my soul and attempts to destroy me. I suppose without which I couldn’t not appreciate the highs but seriously it might just be the death of me. I haven’t decided. So keep my letters, they might be worth something someday on Ebay. Actually, I would hope that you sleep with them under your pillow. I am just kidding.
I am in a goofy mood today as apparent in my writing. I even see myself different in my reflection. It is very odd. I noticed that today in my snapchat story. I wish you snapchatted. I am addicted. I have been since it first came out. I have actually been working on my snapchat game and have received positive feedback. It is just another way I amuse myself throughout the day when I am supposed to be working. Today things have been piling up and I’m like-I will see you on Monday. It actually irritates me that I am bored all week and then Friday comes along and twenty minutes before we close I get bombarded with stupid meaningless tasks that I do not enjoy doing. So fuck it, I will do it on Monday. I ain’t gonna stress about it. I am busy not working. Don’t they know that my letters are more important than criminals getting bond set? Actually, it really isn’t pressing. Don’t think I am completely incompetent at my job. I really am not. I just downplay my great qualities. Ha. I am just flippant at times.
I suppose I should start cleaning up my messy pile of “Things That I Will Possibly Do On Monday”. I leave for Michigan in an hour. I am excited to hack portals, destroy enemy links and my favorite-visit the Lake. I might push myself to wake up for the sunrise. How awesome would that be? A nice romantic sunrise with myself and snapchat. I find friends in the weirdest things. Someday….somehow…..I am gonna change the world. Believe you me, it is gonna happen. One person at a time. I will save them from their own demons. If I can survive then surely they can too. Or maybe the idea sucks I am not sure. Until I write again….
With much love,