Today was an all right day, at least as far as writing was concerned. I made headway, I found what I was looking for, which is to say I’ve made contact with the muse. Thankfully it’s not first contact so I don’t have to learn his alien language.
But writing is great again, and I can’t help but feel completely refreshed by this turn of events. I am no longer at the mercy of the mistress of pain, the evil witch who holds me captive during times of writer’s block.
My safe word is “struggle”, in case you needed to know.
But not everything was peachy. I had to work tonight, which wasn’t my ideal choice of activity when I’d written a thousand words right before my shift started and felt pumped to write a thousand more. We had an event tonight, too, which only added to the discomfort.
After all, who wants to work a customer service job when the story is flowing and the creative juices are simmering, filling your mind with an aroma as tantalizing as the best Pho a Vietnamese mother can make? Not me, that’s for sure. I just want to sit down to my soup, have another spoonful of broth and write the next bestseller.
Yeah, that last part is definitely wishful thinking. Who knows if the world will like my novel as much as I’m now enjoying writing it.
I can still enjoy the Pho, though.
For those who are currently working jobs which aren’t fulfilling, I don’t envy you, but I do know one thing for sure. If you find your passion, find what you really want to do with your life, then start making plans to pursue it full-time. I promise you, everything else will start to fade in importance and you’ll discover that things start to fall in line.
Today was the first day that reality set in. I’ll be leaving my job in October, and I’ll be free to pursue my dream. I’m going to be hungry, I’m going to be poor, but it doesn’t seem to matter anymore.
Because I’ll be free.
At the end of the day, that’s all I ever really wanted. Freedom from the day to day trappings of society which weigh me down as if they’re trying to stuff me into their luggage, trying to force me into a spot where I can’t possibly fit.
But that’s the beauty of society, isn’t it? Breaking you until you fit where they want you, just so they can carry you onto the plane before it crashes?
Fuck that. I’m walking.
If this all sounds crazy, well . . . I’m tired, but I promised to write a piece every day. This is the best I could pull off before I slipped into conscious oblivion.
Peace and love,
Samuel D. Roe (Cynus)