One of my all time favorite movies is Postcards from the Edge. There are so many gems in that film, I find another perfect line of dialogue every time I watch. When the main character comes home from rehab, her mother throws her a big party. That’s right, and to stack inappropriateness on top of questionable judgment, mom proceeds to make herself the center of attention by performing a song and dance number at the piano.
“Good times and bum times/I’ve seen ‘em all and my dear/I’m still here./Smooth sailin’ sometimes,/Sometimes a kick in the rear!/But I`m here.”
I keep coming to write. Opening the window and watching the cursor blink. There are SO many things I want to say... but I never end up saying any of them. The cursor blinks at me until I close the window.
That pretty much sums it up. Whatever happened to Mrs. Odie? It’s partly not knowing what direction I want to go with my writing. I see myself as a social critic and satirist, essay writer, and hopefully a humorist. I want to write fiction too, and more than anything, I want to make money. Another part of staying away from writing is that teaching has taken up more than just my time lately. Just last night, my father asked me what has changed about the job because it didn’t consume me like it does now. That’s a long answer. One I am determined to answer when it isn’t after 2 a.m.
Some things are just too personal or aren't just mine to share (conversations with Gwen, frustrations with parts of life that also belong to Travis or my friends), some are the same boring things I've written about before (house hunting, job woes), others I just can't find the words for. Then there's the time to write something that isn't just a haphazardly thrown together post on what we did that weekend. I want to remember those things too, but I wish I had the time to make it a real narrative.
Parenting is like a black hole where marriages go to die. Love really is a biological trap. I’m still in love with my husband, but five years into this parenting gig I haven’t figured out how to bridge the gap between us that started with morning sickness and widened with an episiotomy. I miss him so much and I am sad that I will never get to be young with him ever again.
My daughters are simultaneously my favorite people and my tormentors. Their love is endless but so are their demands.
I love writing. I love writing here! But lately I just can't bring myself to do it.
And the pressure I'm putting on myself that too much time has passed and you just have to write something, well that's not helping one bit. The more I push, the more the ideas flee.
I feel like I just walked into the kitchen and now I can’t remember what I came in for.
“I got through all of last year. And I’m here.”
So its break time.
I'm giving myself a month off.
A whole month to not worry about it, not stress about it, not think about it at all if I don't want to. And then hopefully I will find my voice again.
In the meantime, I'm going to do the best to live this authentic life of mine!
I'll be back in a month. I hope you will be too.