I’VE MANAGED TO MAKE IT through May without blogging. Go me. In my defence it’s been an eventful time of late. I got married in
Las Vegas at the end of April with a homecoming reception in the middle of May –which we had to gear ourselves back up for after the relaxing post nuptual come down that was hitting the tarmac at on May 2nd. There’s been birthdays, the obligatory reconnecting with old and lost friends (mandatory post-wedding) and of course the unenviable collapse of spirit when the holiday blues come’a’calling. Since then I’ve been hard at work, busing myself with the perpetual re-writing, overthinking and secret doubting that comes with everyday life. George Best City Airport
It seems that regardless of the progress I may or may not have made there’s always something else to measure myself against…and ultimately, something else to fall short in comparison with. I’m sure this is normal but it isn’t half fucking boring. How many times must I go around the block only to feel like I’ve fallen flat on my front teeth?
I’m no fool. I know that the days of not having to work in order to live are probably never going to be an issue I’ll have to deal with. Writers die broke, broken and with the all encompassing dread that they’ve failed on even the most basic of levels. No, what I am is a trier. Granted, an all too often secret trier but a trier nontheless. I’ve been scribbling away at something that will hopefully provide me with the opportunity to take a few months (paid) from work and in doing so indulge the side of me that’s closested and wanting to come out. The part of me that wants to cast aside the white collar shackles of the real job and doing something creative for a living. Whether it comes off is for time to tell but at the moment I’ve more hope in my chest than fear which is not only a good thing but an unusual thing.