There is a lot of stuff I can write about but I don't always feel like I should. I know it sounds lame, but I don't want to be a over-share-er. Even though people (I think only 9 now) come to my blog (ever so infrequently) because they want to hear about me, I feel like maybe they would say "So, who cares?" and then click on something, anything, to get away from my blog. Even if, say, it was an add for penal enlargements*
So if that is the case as you read on, feel free to direct from my page. Just don't tell me about it.
See right now I have been keeping myself busy. I have been working a fair bit and I feel as though that takes up a lot of time. Paired with friends who want to see me, and an effort to spend more time with family, my schedule fills up quickly. Thank goodness for tv on the internet or else I would never see anything. Anyways, that is not all I have been doing. One day while I was cursing the heavens for my poverty (relative) loneliness (somewhat) and frustration (deserved) I looked over at the stack of novels sitting beside my bed and said to my bedroom ceiling "Why can't have what they have?!" pointing to the names on the spines of each book. And then it was like a little voice said to me "Umm... stupid. The first step in being a best-selling, world famous author, is actually writing a book." Which is, incredibly, true. I couldn't have what those people had because I hadn't sat down and actually ever produced anything. I had missed a crucial step in being an actual writer. I hadn't actually written anything.
So I started. I have been writing every night from about eleven to about 12:30 and so far is has been going quiet well. I mean the novel is complete shit, but I figure that is not my problem. When it is finished, and bound and then rejected by agents, and editors, and publishers, and when I am told that, yes, I am in a fact a terrible and talentless writer, I can curse the heavens for giving me a hard time. Until then, I have no excuse for not sitting down, and plunking out page after page of contrived, unoriginal dribble. In other words, until I am finished I have no one else to blame for myself.
And because everyone had now stopped reading, I will continue on with a story stolen from one of my favorite people in the world Elizabeth Gilbert. She told a story on her website about how once, an art film director wrote a letter to his mentor, a successful filmmaker, complaining about how hard it is to get funding, and how commercialized the business is and pretty much whined and complained. Then the mentor wrote him back and said that it was not the universe's problem that he wanted to be an artist. It wasn't anyone's fault that he chose to devote his life to something that was hard, and challenging, and different. He could one, tomorrow decide to become something completely different, but it was his passion to become a filmmaker. HIS.
That kind of struck me. I guess I have never really taken ownership of stuff like that. I always blamed the universe, or god, or fate and destiny, for making me want to do something different, when, really, it was my choice. Yes, five years ago I could have continued on into a field where I could walk out of school and have a career that paid well, and was secure. But I didn't choose that. I choose, instead to go to school, looking at beautiful things, and only learning about subjects that directly appealed to my interests. I was selfish and maybe, foolish for doing this but it was the only way I could see getting through it. I have never been one for personal sacrifice. I would always rather have two scoops of ice cream now than one scoop every week for a year. I'm not a good planner, but hey, I'm new to this whole life thing.
Other than that I have some fairly big life decisions to make. Easy ones, and not so easy ones. I have a life changing (hopefully) trip a head of me and I am pretty excited for it. I have some time to figure some stuff out, but I definitely have a deadline for when I need to get my shit in order. Other than, after watching a movie, and thinking how maybe I would possibly be brilliant at crossword assembly (despite never having finished one) that is all that is on my plate. Oh, and after bingeing on candy, burgers, and fries today I am officially on a diet.
*when in doubt, a surefire laugh can always be found with an ol' penis joke.