As I sit in my aunt's house alone, while my house gets displayed to strangers for their commentary and suggestions on what they would do differently should they decide to purchase it, I am faced with the overwhelming knowledge that another month has passed.
The worst part about that is, I really haven't accomplished much. I haven't written much for either of the books I am working on, I still hate my job - perhaps more than ever, and I have not successfully gone to the gym more than once in a week yet this year.
I essentially live in a world of ridiculous aspirations that I have no qualification to even dream of. I am likely never going to accomplish any of my goals, which I suppose is fine, most adults don't I think. I think what most adults do is get older, get accidentally pregnant and then lie to other people so many times saying that this is what they always wanted that it becomes their new false truth. I don't want that to be my story.
I don't want to turn 48 years old and look at my life and say, "Oh fuck. I done fucked up." I want to look at it and say "Alright, so it might not be perfect but at least I ..." you know.. insert something that is an accomplishment of sorts.
Preferably, I would like to be able to say the following:
"Alright, so my life isn't perfect, but at least I own jeans that don't have elastic waist bands. And also while I haven't won a pulitzer, at least I am a New York Time's Best Seller. Also, my TV show is a lot of work but at least the Emmys seem to love us and the syndication money has allowed me more freedoms and opportunities to write features that were well received."
That doesn't seem to far fetched does it? I mean, I said that I DIDN'T have a pulitzer, that is me being reasonable. I mean, New York Time's Bestseller would be honour enough. I would love to be in the company of the greats. J.K. Rowling, Steven King, Snooki. Ya, Snooki is a bestseller and I am not. Riddle me that. What's that you say? You have to actually be brave enough to let other people read your books if you want that? You have to devote time to actually editing the damn thing? Oh. Point inner voices.
Anyways, this is a long self indulgent post about how I cannot think about anything but myself on most days. I need to get focused and do some more writing. That will be my job this summer once my work hours settle down. I expect you to hold me to it the internet - by which I mean Crystal because I don't know that anyone else reads this.
If others read this, leave me a comment with some tough love and some just regular love to motivate me to write. I am not sure which will work better so give me both and if I don't like one I will read the other.