So, I got the job with the state, hence my complete lack of posting. I am thrilled with where I am now: no screaming, much less cussing, and much more predictable tempers. The biggest downside at this point is that I can’t really tell any of the excellent stories I’m getting, since that would be disclosure and could result in prison time/lawsuits. *grins*
One of the aspects of this “new start” is that my parents helped me rearrange my quite tiny apartment, resulting in a bit of an uproar in my possessions. One of the re-locations was of a box of binders from my school days. Tonight, skipping church and listening to Local Natives, my new favoritest band, I went through the binders, cleaning them out and looking for any papers I wanted to keep. When I was done I had a stack of pages over a foot high. Flipping through them, all I could think was “I used to know these things, all of these things!” I used to understand geometry and the quadratic formula and could sum up the differences between preterite and imperfect forms of verbs.
As I got toward the end, I reached the folder from my freshman year of college, which included my Writing 101 class. And you know what? I used to be a writer. I used to be good. Like, really good. Okay, in a rough, unpolished sort of way, but I still managed to slap my sentences together pretty neatly. And, like I have done many times in this blog, I must ponder, what on earth happened??? At what point in my life did I suddenly quit wr… oh wait, never mind, I know when. Duh! So I guess, really, what the question is… would be (I hate putting the same word twice in a row) what do I plan on doing about it?
I don’t know.
And that may be okay. Although I’m coming to the point (30 in less than a month!) where that isn’t really an acceptable answer anymore. I’m not Jessica making her “who the hell knows” valedictorian speech in Eclipse. I’m about to turn 30, and I’d better start knowing soon. I realize that this reaction over writing for fun seems extreme, but it reflects a lot of things in my life. I’ve never planned for the future, never mapped out what I want to do or be beyond a year, if that. I’ve gotten so caught up in living that life is passing me by.
This post is sounding very depressed, but truthfully, I’m more hopeful than I have been in years! It’s always interesting to see how removing one set of concerns only makes room for new. But tomorrow is the Farmer’s Market, and the sun will be shining, and for now, my life is a pretty excellent place.
Call Me Not Naomi 