But Write: An Effort in Becoming Maria Semple
Title Credit: Maria Semple in This One is Mine: A Novel.
Also, I’m sorry, but before I move on to the crux of the matter I must first point out that I simply can’t help but think, no shit whenever I see “A Novel” tacked on to the end of a work that is so obviously a bit of fiction. I mean, come on we get it. Sure, it’s the trendy thing to do at the moment, but it literally adds no value. Seriously. It is not there to sparse out two parallel ideas or to provide further clarification. Nope. Not even close. Regardless, though, and in all honestly, I guess I just hope it’s the publishers that do that crap and not the (brilliant) authors.
But that’s just my rant and/or take on the publishing industry and red-tape bureaucracies in general and why self-publishing is a thing.
Photo cred? So obviously not me. Obvi.
Rather, and what I came here to discuss today, is the fact that despite my best efforts (or, perhaps, because of them) my latest trip abroad failed to sate my wanderlust. And really, just the opposite took place: my thirst for travel is greater than it’s ever been.
If you can believe that.
Hell, I’d already invited myself to China before I even departed for the UK and I’ve since (shamelessly) already invited myself to New Zealand to visit a friend who isn’t even there yet and won’t be until 2017.
Also, I told her that I want to see where LOTR was filmed and that I expect to see hobbit homes.
Like this guy!
But I digress.
Not only is my wanderlust at an all-time high, but my mind is off and running on adrenaline, lack of sleep, and fantasy.
To wit, I’m suddenly recommitted to work, writing, and possibly (probably?) applying for an MBA program.
Traveling obviously stirred the pot on this seemingly irreconcilable smattering of wants and desires, but it in no way generated this mess. I’ve been ruminating on advanced degrees and becoming a slacker for a long time.
Problem is, I actually like my work for once. Like, I honestly think the only solution to my many problems is getting fired.
This is both terrifying and liberating all at the same time as I’m usually one to believe that I’ve been hired to be fired and, therefore, must fight for my job-slash-paycheck when I probably shouldn’t given the nature of the work, coworkers, prospects, et al. Conversely, I’ve long since proven that I don’t need a job so much as the satisfaction I get when I achieve goals and climb up the corporate ladder. This strange intersection is precisely where the MBA or MFA or whatever comes into play.
You see, I wouldn’t shut up about the thing the whole time I was in England. Like, I even annoyed myself.
Just ask my (poor) mother.
I don’t know how or why this became an obsession, but an obsession it is. I need to get fired so that I can eventually pursue this dream.
Well, this latest dream since you all know me and my irrational decision-making process (i.e. my inability to commit and stick to any one thing for longer than a few months).
I guess I just like that feeling of going for broke. Going to extremes. Going pro. Going big. Living on the fringes.
But will I achieve any of these second acts? Third acts? Fourth acts? I sure hope so.
Depends on when I get next fired.