2003-01-07 - 7:03 p.m.
Over the past couple months I have done a lot of very fragmented thinking. Every day spirals of thought twisted through my head, never quite coming together, but there never the less, making their little circles through my mind, disturbing the normal pace of my thought process....the go to work, be in waitress mode, go to gym, come home and write thing, very mundane but also very effective. Instead, lately Iíve been finding myself very distracted and fragmented and even a bit of an emotional, girlie wreck. Itís quite a task to even get ready for work in the morning because I canít keep focused long enough to do anything. But...in the past couple weeks there have been events, realizations and a final culmination of my distraction in form of a complete rage that curdled my blood and finally set my thoughts on a straight line of thought.
I know two things.
I know I am in love with this boy and want nothing more than to have a wild and crazy romance with him, a rock concert so to speak, in which all emotion, all desire, all fantasies are laid directly on the stage and let loose. It occurred to me at a concert this past fall that I wanted a romance like that. I am envious of musicians, particularly vocalists who write lyrics because they can send an emotion plunging through a crowd, make hearts pound, make bones rattle. I want a romance like that, I want my heart to reverberate with emotion, I want my bones to resonate...So, I know how I feel about him and I intend to give him a rock concert...whether he feels the same about me and reciprocates the act...that is to be seen, but I KNOW that I need to, at least once in my life, be vulnerable and see where it takes me.
I also know that I need to do something with my life. I am nearing thirty and I need to know soon what the hell I am doing. I need to take a dive into scary, untreaded waters for a while. I need to make sure I CAN write instead of just saying that I am going to SOMEDAY be a writer. What if I wasted all this time thinking that someday I would write that great American novel and I never do, or worse, what if I set out to write it at age forty and realize I have not one iota of talent and I am stuck being a diner waitress for the rest of my life? I need to do this now, I need to KNOW because if I donít have it in me I need to find something else to do because I CANNOT be a waitress any longer. So I am taking two months off work. I am just going to stop. I am going to sequester myself and I am going to write.
And so that is that. Essentially I have decided to stop being so safe....just for a time...and let it all out there. Itís a tactic I have never tried before. Iíve been safe since I was eighteen. Iíve taken no chances, Iíve jumped off no bridges...Iíve remained stagnant and safe for way too long and it has gotten me no where. I have nothing to show for safe, stable and responsible except a house that is in a state of disrepair and six cats (who I wouldnít trade for anything in the world, if there is one thing I am glad for in my years of stability it is my cats). Nothing else except I have probably read more than 1500 books in the past ten years. Thatís something I guess.
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