Yup, I know, long time no write. Life happens and tends to get in the way of plans. But today, I’ve got something on my mind.
You know, they say you should always write about what you know. I’ve been seeking knowledge for years, always pushing myself in one way or another. I have pushed myself into learning about history, mythology, theology, science, health, politics, art, and much more. I’ve studied everything from the stories of faeries to the lives of prolific authors, I know the difference between whiskey and whisky, and I can navigate between point A and B in my hometown with my eyes closed. The hardest part is what I don’t know. By personality and character flaw, I’m loath to admit something I don’t understand or readily have knowledge of- oftentimes I gloss over these moments. But, there is a problem with my lack of a particular subject. No, I’m not troubled that I don’t understand advanced trigonometry or that I am not well-versed in programming languages- it’s something much more troubling:
I don’t know myself.
Perhaps it is the root of my writer’s block or the thing which keeps me just unorganized enough to never finish my stories. Maybe it’s not blocking me at all and is just an excuse. Regardless, it’s troubling.
I’ve been seeking myself for years, but instead often find myself seeking else. I start down one path and end up walking down five others. It is as if I have gone into the woods with a destination in mind, only to find myself diverting to chase after an animal or follow the sound of a stream. Having wandered, confused, I am now curled in the roots of a tree, protecting and sheltering myself from the villains that have come and gone in the night. Those who once walked beside me now hunt me and haunt me, long gone on different paths I might or might not have taken. I feel as though I seek comfort in familiarity, but it’s doing me no good in the big picture of things. I drive myself forward in spurts, frustration getting the better of me and sending me from my so-called safety. My emotions are letting fear get the better of me and I’m done with it.
But, what do I know?
Well, I managed to survive the weekend. I’m still not 100% sure how, especially since the earliest I got to be was about 1:30am. I must be some sort of magic. Or something.
Blondie’s moved in, I got to see my Molly, and I got to hang out drinking and sharing my love of wine with those adventurous enough to take on the Delaware Wine Walk (okay, well, those who really felt like just showing up, but…hey…it sounded cooler to make it seem daring). I also got to ride my first roller coaster in years (it really just makes me sad that I’ve not been on one in so long…). But the main theme of the weekend? Thinking.
Yeah, it’s surprising considering all that was going on, but I guess I pulled out the multitasking. My biggest thought was pretty simple: I wish I didn’t have to work. I realize many people have that same thought, but I don’t just mean for the sleep in until noon and lounge around in my underwear aspect. I mean I really want to be able to just write for a living. I’m sick of the paycheck to paycheck grind. While my day job isn’t exactly difficult, nor is it a bad one (on the contrary, I actually work for an amazing company doing something I’m pretty darn good at), it’s just not what I want to do.
I spent three hours talking about wine basically nonstop on Saturday. It felt like five minutes, really. I could do that all day! The inspiration hit me again that I need to be writing more seriously about this stuff, that I need to restart The Lush…Certified, or something…just do something at the very least! Then reality kicked in. I’m already trying to balance my time with SciFi4Me (a job I love even more than my day job) and personal writing, as well as maintaining my apartment and bills along with attempting fiction writing (oh, and a nonfiction project that’s not really gone anywhere yet). With all of that and helping out with anything else (such as the Delaware Wine Walk), I just don’t have time to do it. Especially considering the amount of work that goes into a lot of those articles, I’d be stretching myself pretty thin. It’s harsh reality, but, with my current needs, I just don’t see myself pulling it off…at least in the sense of doing the topic any justice. Would anyone like to just pay me to write? 🙂
Thoughts? Suggestions? Should I restart The Lush…Certified, or at least something in that sense?