Tag: Purpose

September 17, 2018

I’m trying really hard to like my new job. I like the people I work with. I like the parking situation. They have free coffee.

I know everyone expects me to like it. I know everyone thinks I should. I know I’ve complained about my job(s) in the past. (I complain a lot…it’s what I do. It neither makes me charming nor cute, but it’s true.) I know people who love me want me to be happy. And by happy, I mean employed. And by employed, I mean making money and having some purpose every day. And by purpose, I mean something other than writing, because I’ve gathered that no one sees that as having purpose until you’re JK Rowling, and then money talks. Right now, money isn’t talking to me. Right now, it’s a silent reminder that I have to do what everyone eventually has to do as an adult. Get a job. Make money. Get insurance on things like cars and rental apartments and my life. Dream about what kind of fence I’ll put around my yard (white picket, I’m told). Plan for retirement, when I don’t have to work this job anymore. Pick out some sort of school area I want to be in if I have kids. I’m supposed to have kids apparently. Meal prep so I can do the smart thing and save my money because eating out is a waste. Invest it so I can give it to the kids I’m supposed to have. Use the job money to buy gas for my car so I can drive to work to make more money to buy more gas. Go to bed early so I can be well rested for the job I sit at to make money so no one has to worry about me any more or wonder why I’m so useless and pathetic when they all thought I’d be somebody. Ignore all feelings of wanting to write or run away because that’s not practical. Not nearly as practical as sitting at my desk day after day and making money so I can come home too tired to remember that writing is the only thing that makes me happy. Forget about happiness so I can work because adults are supposed to have jobs they don’t like. Who am I to think I get to pursue my dream? Who do I think I am? Unless I become EL James somehow and write the masterpiece* Fifty Shades of Grey and then it’s okay that I wanted to be a writer. Then, despite the content and the quality, then it’s okay because I have the money to show for it. But until then… I should stop trying to write and be lucky I got a job.

Day 99 – Mo’ money…

*sarcasm

July 16, 2018

It’s time.

I have spent so much of my life ignoring what I’m really good at. I’ve danced around it. I’ve hung out in its vicinity. I’ve let everything and everyone derail me from it. I’ve ignored my best interests. I’ve gotten in my own way at every single turn. Even when it was obvious that I should stick with it, that I should dig in and try harder, I scared myself off.

It’s not easy to follow your path. It’s not easy to take the difficult path because it’s not like the hardest thing was deciding to do it. Fuck, that was hard. But it’s the every day. It’s continuing down that path that some days seems downright impossible and convincing yourself that it’s not impossible. That you can do it. That it’s somewhere inside you and you have to keep pushing through all the bullshit.

And there is A LOT of bullshit. Like, more bullshit than not bullshit. First, there’s the men in my field. Then, there are the expectations – or lack thereof – depending on the day, because we can’t just PICK ONE OF THOSE, we have to have both of them so I never know what I’m going to get. But worst of all is the way that any little thing is a setback and I have to claw my way back to equilibrium. We’re mostly talking EMOTIONAL equilibrium here, people. A small incident for some registers as nothing, for me it’s Hurricane Katrina and I’m standing alone in the 9th Ward when the levies break.

I get WRECKED when anything sets me back. Family stuff, mostly. But also friend stuff and career stuff and men and a high electricity bill and stubbing my toe and a cashier looking at me weird and making me feel like I must be an ugly, horrible person. Live in this head for a day, people. ONE DAY and you will never laugh at me again. I want you to laugh, actually, so never mind.

It’s goddamn time. I don’t know where to start, don’t get me wrong. I’m not about to jog out into the street Rocky style and defeat the steps of some building downtown. I’m not about to play a motivational song while I take on my enemies and win. I’m not about to get off this couch, even. But I know it’s time to stop with all the excuses or I’ll be old(er) and (more) useless before I know it, still making excuses.

Day 36 – Time.