The other day I picked up a journal I used to keep. It has been sitting in my bedside table for the last three years glaring at me each time I open the drawer, hissing as I close it, leaving it untouched and alone. I've avoided this innocent little book because there have been so many events happen since the last entry that I wouldn't know where to start; and many of the events I dare not relive, even in paper and ink, for some wounds take a long time to fully heal. Then, as I was placing the book of letters I write for MJ back into the drawer, I decided to try to face my fears and write, instead I read.
The last entry was from December 31, 2007. I was three days pregnant with MJ when I wrote that last entry, obviously I had no idea I was pregnant as I wrote about what 2008 could bring into our lives. I wrote about a possible baby, job changes, moves, careers, winning the lottery and writing a book. Little did I know that in a few short months our life would be turned, twisted, crunched, devoured and nearly fatal. Fast forward and we survived, a little bruised, a little tired, a little bloody, but intact. Our lives haven't quite gotten completely back on the right tracks yet, not with RT working/living away from us, but it's only a matter of time. The three of us are strong and full of love and we'll bide our time and make the right move when it crosses our path.
What got to me in this entry was that many things that aggravated me then, still aggravate me today. In many ways I have grown over the years, but in many ways, I'm ashamed to say, I have not. I still gripe about lack of job satisfaction, about how I desperately want to write a book. Whine, whine, whine. This entry sickened me, talking about it sickens me. I know what it takes to be successful: hard work, luck and timing. Well, I can only truly control the hard work, I just have to hope that luck and timing find me at the right time. This entry made me realize that I was sprinting in place, wasting a lot of energy on nothing instead of focusing that energy into something productive. Not any more.
The past two days have been tiring and exhilarating. The schedule has been tough: 4:30am wake up call, work out, get myself and MJ ready for the day, work, MJ time/dinner/bath/story/bed, clean the kitchen, write, bed. It's especially tiring when I have to work night study hall, but it's doable.
One of my earliest memories was writing an adventure story about two deep sea treasure hunters; it was based on a game my brother and I played in the pool. My dream is to be a novelist, always has been. I can't waste anymore time because I know that if I do, I will regret not giving it my best. Even if I never get published or sell one copy, at least I know I tried, right now all I can say is I whined.
This is my long winded version of a "Farewell for Now." I love writing this blog, I feel like a child on Christmas morning when I see who has visited my site and get emails from readers around the world, but now I must devote my time to my novel(s). I hope to blog on occasion and then again consistently. It's funny how I feel guilty, though I've never met the majority of those who read this. I hope you understand, thank you so much for reading.
0 comments:
Post a Comment