None of this would make any sense if it didn't have a point. Right? I mean, how many times does an individual have to re-evaluate everything before they get where they need to go? Wherever that is.
I am at home today with baby girl. She has a slight fever and while I, of course, feel terrible for her, I am also enjoying the cuddles. It seems, though, every time I spend more time with her and the boy during weekday hours (which isn't very often), I try to make sure I believe in what I am doing here. For the most part, I absolutely do. But I'd be lying if I said there wasn't hesitation. And, I think most of the hesitation would go away if I felt I was using my time here better.
I'll be 35 next month. 35. 35. 35. I love and hate aging. Love: wisdom, maturity, perspective. Hate: feeling like I haven't done enough of what I want to do.
Don't get me wrong, what I have done, what I've accomplished is nothing short of wonderful. College, a wonderful marriage with someone just as nutty as I am, two gorgeous kids, an accomplished move across the country, a nice employer. But what's missing is success as a writer. And it's my own damn fault, because I am really good fucking off, and totally fear failure.*
So while baby girl naps, I am watching a documentary on writers and how much gets written that never see the light of day. At least I know I'm not the only one.
*These posts are both practice and therapy for me to keep me focused on the road ahead. So often you will find me very self-deprecating, Internet.
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