Imaging Ourselves In Complex, Tragic, and Beautiful Ways

Life has been good lately. 

Over the past few weeks, I've come quite naturally into a routine of getting up early, hitting the gym with Casey Sue, coming home to work, and spending the rest of my free time in the space of self-care and personal development. It has been revitalizing. 

There are days that I feel lost in the "what ifs" of my future, of how this project could ultimately fall apart and I'll dive headfirst back into a pit of self-loathing after long and seemingly futile attempts at fixing myself but, over the past few weeks, those moments have been fewer and further between. Though I don't wish to lay claim that working out has made an immediate and noticeable improvement in my life, the benefits seem to be overshadowing any doubts I have. Lately, I wake up and I want to be doing things. I look forward to feeling good in my body by exercising and I look forward to coming home to tell a story, even if the process is at times arduous and emotionally draining. 

I am just in love with my life right now and it feels awesome. 

Today, I woke up ten minutes before my 7:15 AM alarm ready to hit the ground running, both literally and metaphorically, and though our plans were somewhat thwarted by a moderate snowstorm, I still felt just eager for the day to begin. The snow was falling dreadfully fast and upon looking at my snow-covered vehicle, and the moderate fatigue of my still sore muscles (yesterday was core day), all of my resolve disappeared the second I put on comfy pants. Totally worth it because my brain was still ready to pursue the task of writing my story. With vigor. With excitement. With ardor

Oh, and I forgot to mention that part of this recent rush of excitement also has to do with my first paid writing gig. 

A close friend of my sister's sent me a message the other day asking if she could talk about an opportunity and spoiler alert - she wants me to ghostwrite a book for her! Me! Write a book and get paid for it! 

Imagine my absolute and utter elation at the opportunity, not to mention how wildly flattered I was that Erica thought of me first. I have to admit that there are about a thousand times a day where I still wonder if I made the right call in pursuing this project and this moment, this joyous juncture at which I could legitimately begin building my portfolio, was in a way almost life-affirming. Maybe I was indeed meant to do this. 

The realist in me recognizes that even though this is an amazing chance to do something great, I still have a responsibility to make smart choices. Earlier in the week, I happened to be glancing at a calendar of the year and realized that September is more or less right around the corner. There are just eight short months left before unemployment runs out and building a sustainable writing career in that time is a big task. Though I believe in myself enough to believe that it could happen, I recognize that it could take longer than the time I've left to do so, and once those funds are not accessible to me any longer, getting a job will not merely be a passing thought but an absolute requirement. We all need money to survive. 

In an ideal world, I wouldn't need to rely on unemployment forever but these things take time. It's unrealistic to think that just because I want something bad enough and have spent time building upon my skills, that something financially fruitful will come of it. In one way, I suppose it already has but one gig does not a sustainable living make. 

But all we can do is try, right? I have this one short, lovely, terrible, wonderful, grand life, and maybe nothing we do matters but if that's true, then all that matters is what we do.**

There was a moment a couple of weeks ago where I was laying in bed staring at the ceiling while my limbs began to relax in a state of near meditation, heavy under the effects of the marijuana I'd just smoked, and had a realization about why I wanted to do this: I love stories. If I am successful in building a writing career, it will mean that I get to tell stories for a living and those are what I love about the world; it's how we understand each other and document our lives and imagine ourselves in complex, tragic, and beautiful ways. 

Getting the chance to imagine the world around me and impart whatever wisdom I have, however ill-defined and probably at times misguided, is an awesome thing. I get to describe the world around me - how it tastes, smells, feels - all while telling a story that I think is worth telling. What a divine chance. 

It is with absolute truth and absolute vulnerability that I tell you how afraid I am to fail but that, too, is a very human thing to feel. I think everyone is afraid to fail at something but so what? Maybe failure is another opportunity to try again. Perhaps this will inspire you as it did me: 

That's all for today. Aside from taking a bit to write this blog, I've been on a roll lately with my book and I'm gonna capitalize on that momentum while I still can. 

Happy Thursday, friends! 

** Full disclosure. I absolutely stole this from the show Angel. #SorryNotSorry