Three: Authoring

It pains me sometimes to know that my best writing is often ala Facebook. I fought it for the longest time, much like getting a cell though I can live without Facebook and simply cannot exist without a cell phone. I used to be a great writer, now all my creative juices are sucked out of me at work. Actually, work sucks the life out me and I often feel like the cube dweller I have in fact become. I used to think I could make a difference and now know that I am just a cog in the wheel. I often think I would rather work for a non-profit and do some good and then I think of my mortgage and love of really expensive shoes. I hate being a slave to the dollar but I love what the greenies can buy me. I'm a hypocrite, I've admitted it before and will again. If you don't like it don't look in the mirror and don't read.

I found myself responding to a FB post that had tagged me. An old friend of mine from junior high and high school had flagged me about a Connells post he had written giving the set list of their recent concert in my hometown. I love The Connells, they are my all time favorite band and actually lost a job at a concert venue I worked at in college to go backstage and meet them. It was totally worth it. This is my response to my friends post:

"A set list to make my knees weak and heart race. One of the highlights of my summer was introducing my musically well versed boyfriend to The Connells. Standing there listening to my youth brought back such sweet memories of being young and burden less and effervescent; dancing like heathens at a ritual of guiltless sin and passion, despite the acoustics of The Boathouse. So jealous you got to talk to Mike."

I comment that makes me more proud of than any of the vast writing I have done for work. It makes me see that there is still a part of me left; that my job, my fucked up relationship and the daily grind hasn't extinguished what was once a promising intellect. In hindsight it is a little weepy and over the top but work with me I've had a codeine and a few beers. It still gave me a boost in a day/week that has been hellacious and emotionally draining. I'm sure I spelled hellaciuous wrong but don't actually care enough to try to figure out the correct, If there is one, spelling. If spell check can't do then fuck it.

I hope that I can find more moments like that to keep me going, there are days that I truly wonder if I can. I find myself becoming numb to life and even the most exciting things render a "meh" from me. I am blessed (I do not like that word as I am not religious outside of the random thoughts of being Buddist and crossing myself every time an ambulance races by) that I am able to travel internationally and have friends all over the world. Yet I find it harder and harder to get excited about things and feel any genuine glee. My dog, who is harrassing me as we speak to play tug-o-war, is one my delights. I could hours about how awesome he is, but most people don't to hear an almost middle aged single chick talk about her dog. Really, not only does it incite pity but you can read that shit anywhere.

So I will try to keep my eye out for glee. If you see her give her my name and tell to shoot my way as I'm running low and could use a dose.