tomorrow22

Just incredibly tired of seeing a year and a half old entry every time I visit my page. The trouble is that whenever I think about changing it I remember I have nothing doing, and when there's something worth writing I forget. So, I'll talk briefly about what I could have written this year.

I'm getting old. And tired of my life, so I've gone back to college. It feels good. Really good. Indescribably good. I know we don't always agree on the government all the time (or like, ever) but let me just say that I am grateful for the financial aid program, and Pell grants. I am also grateful for my age, because with age I've learned how to prioritize, mostly, and several other things that come in handy when going to school.

My biological dad found me on Facebook. THAT was weird. But kind of cool. Turns out I have another brother. Also weird. He was born the same year as the brother I grew up with.

There is a poem I wrote on here called This Just In... I'm Not You. It was written for my grandfather who said something pretty degrading to me over Thanksgiving a couple years ago. It took several anxiously toned greeting cards and a lot of growing up on my part, but I finally got over it. So, guess what came to me in the mail yesterday? A Christmas card with a generic letter to all the cousins from my grandparents, update us on what we're all up to. I'm first on the list.

This wouldn't bother me if I wasn't, I don't know, in college and kicking ass at tournaments on the Speech team. Apparently all I'm up to is enjoying my apartment with my boyfriend. My brother is going to college for an art degree... he's really found his niche! My cousin is tearing it up in competitive golf, another cousin is a fantastic actor and I? Living with my boyfriend. My boyfriend who says not to bother being hurt by this. They are old and devoutly Catholic and I am unwed so... whatever.

I've got this endless circle of guilt going for me right now. See, I have at least six stories I've started in the last three years. None are finished. The furthest I've gotten is "Chapter Twenty" (I use the quotations sarcastically, as it's a bit generous to call the sections of this story chapters.) in one story. When I started it, it was almost literally the love of my life. I wrote non-stop (except for the whole work-eat-shower-sleep thing) for two months. I got far. I went to bed at night feeling I'd done, or nearly done, justice to my heroine... feeling like she'd be pleased to know just how devoted I was to telling her story.

Now, the shine is off. The wear of time, age and disillusionment have torn me away from her, from even being able to relate to her. She has become a burden. She is now someone to whom I owe loyalty, I owe my time, but I give it sporadically and often unwillingly. And she's not the first. I heartlessly discarded a lovely character named Charlotte to begin this story. And for Charlotte I dumped Serenity Jones. For Serenity I left Mayla, my mystery solving collegiate in a fantastical 500 years post-nuclear Earth. God, just remembering her forces the memory of even more to my mind.

My problem, other than my over-active imagination and my under-whelming sense of impulse control, is that while growing and changing and struggling to surface in the murky ocean that has been my real life these past few years, I have turned endlessly to new characters, and then, like the fickle lover I am, cast each to the wind. And now, I find myself unable to focus on just one story, feeling guilt over each other when I do. And when I can force myself to focus, it often yields me little to nothing. Today, for example, I opened the, quote, Chapter Twenty document, and wrote one sentence. A total of six words.

So you see, when I set myself to writing, I often leave it feeling unsatisfied, unappeased, and simply, frustrated. The joy that used to come is washing away with the ceaseless duty I now feel. Not only that, but when I don't set myself to writing, I spend all the hours I'm not doing it with a nagging, gnawing sort of guilt in my head. It's as if I know, constantly, that I am doing neither my characters or myself any justice by not trying.

And yet, I have no troubles airing my failings and dis-satisfactions on the miscellaneous world of the internet. So, either I'm too stuck in my own head and forcing myself to lose, or I just can't win.

Even though I know few (to no) people will actually read this entry, it has been over a year since my last journal update. And so... I feel a need to freshen the landscape of my bland Deviant page. I have nothing of significance to report. As you who may be actually reading this (gasp!) may have noticed, I've recently revisited my poetic side and found the spirit was still with me.

So... go me.

So... I totally missed it and I'm kinda bummed about that, but I've got more than one thousand views and that's pretty freakin' awesome. So, thanks to everyone who's stopped by, I hope to keep you coming back.


Also... this is my first journal in the new decade so...

Admittedly, I have been away for awhile. Technically, I've checked Deviantart at least once a week to see if I have any comments, new deviations, ect... but I haven't been too active. My problem is this... what I've been working on, I can't really put up here. I mean, I could, but I worry. So I don't.

Right now... I mean, like... this minute, I am mustering up the courage and motivation to begin working on a story I started two weeks ago. I'm excited about it... promise, but at the same time, I'm freaking tired, and I haven't had the opportunity to just sit and veg in front of the tv in a long time. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Whatever.

Anyway... There is a light at the end of my Jerry Springer-like tunnel. Andy and I may possibly be able to move out of this hideous house by the first week of December. We have to tighten our wallets, but I have a full-time job now, so if we find a place in our budget, we should be able to begin a normal-ish routine by the second week of december.

Wish some luck our way, please!

Well... I'm gonna go stare at a white screen covered in words and try to talk myself in adding to them. Yay me.