Ahhhh, I'm All Outta Posts!

I may or may not be able to catch up on post frequency this week. Phew, days oddly enough seem to pass more quickly in planning than pounding out on the story word count even.

Planning is fun though. Just planning relationships, intertwining plots, back stories... 

It's like being a hobby writer again and I missed it. I had fallen into a trap of thinking of it as a future career. I can't not think about the current impossibility of ever retiring (okay, slowing down). It's just as likely I'll never see old age (doesn't really bother me though). Writing has always been a pipe dream. I get to entertain the maybe of a career under special circumstances. The creative thing is just a part of me, regardless of whether it ever affords me any other comfort in life. I have this life of strange circumstances and responsibilities and this window where I can entertain the what-ifs, so I adapt.

There's a freedom in creativity and I messed up many times in the past by treating it like any other job. Just like I messed up thinking any job would do. I don't believe that anything was a waste. I might play what-ifs with my future but it's a dangerous practice to apply to the past. That often requires a visit through red alert places that are fuzzy for a reason. I have 'now' so I can't treat it like some serious investment. True, I create hoping to see it finished, but it has to matter 'now' more. It's not a job, not a hobby, not really a lifestyle either. It's so much 'other' that it needs its own path.

My mom once blurted out that she was happy doing nothing with her life. I might have tried to agree with her in the past but I was writing my first book series then and I shook my head and felt a smile tug at my lips. 

"Not me. Not anymore. Jobs can go to hell, but I need to have a purpose. Even if it's just to draw or write or daydream." 

"Or drink vodka!" 

"Yup, yup... That too. Because if I can't celebrate my purpose, what's the point?"

Mom was proud of me still, for shedding the modern shackles of other people's expectations, of developing talents that helped me grow into the self. Maybe those are the luxuries I needed. Not vacation time from work or raises or the things people think we're supposed to want. Sometimes, we simply labor to avoid our parents' mistakes. And end up landing on the same squares on the gameboard sometimes. After a while, it's less about doing 'better' and more about doing what's right for me.

It's not in me to live an idle life like my mom did. It's hard for people to get how active I am because I'm a house elf. I actually speed walk about 8-12 hours a week and I don't clean or cook unless everyone is asleep or I'm alone. I do it whether I'm in pain or not but I'd rather not have anyone see when I'm hurting when I push myself. I do HIIT workouts on the spur of the moment and bust out in kitchen yoga. Even people I live with are surprised by my results and output. I don't do a lot of 'progress shots' on social media either. Namely because the process is for me. Ha, until those results come, talking about it seems like lip service.

People can assume what they like-- about how 'smart' or hard I work, my work ethic, my activity level and my social prowess. As long as I love life, it's enough. Heh, and it's not easy. I was no less groomed into the benefits of a 9-5 contribution and sometimes I even pine for the security and simplicity. Until I remember what that was for me. I have different miseries and perks to this life and I swapped them for good reason.

Said it before but we don't owe people some show of misery to emphasize how hard we work. We're allowed to enjoy our jobs (although showing that REALLY gets managers on your case-- if you enjoy your job, you're definitely not working hard, right?). I'm going to keep taking a page from the jobs that I loved, the jobs that lasted, and I'll enjoy it. I'll wake up eager to do it. I'll take days off and still think about it fondly. I'll get pissed and frustrated sometimes but that's just how I work through problems.

I don't really have anything concrete to talk about. Just that I might not have content. Might get suddenly inspired, who knows? Story planning-- if that's where my days land for a while longer, I can't complain. I do have a lot of maybes and no shortage of things to play with.

As always, there's little I can say about my work. I protect it until it's released. So much changes anyway that I can't really commit to the bursts of content from the in-between. Lol really, it would probably be more confusing than helpful.

In any case, it's no biggie. I don't get a lot of traffic at this point and more often than not, it does take time out of the long list of more productive projects. I'm sure I'll be back to blogging when the whim strikes. Preferrably when I have something to talk about, not just idle reflections.

More isn't necessarily better. It's fine if you're fast, okay if you're slow-- no reason to force it as long as you're rolling along.