I want a few little things in life, and one of them is to be a writer. How appropriate it is not that I end up not writing when so many other things I want end up sliding from my grasp.
Part of it is that I can't juggle, of course. You sign yourself up for too much stuff, you find yourself dropping the ball. Up to a point, you drop the ball no matter what -- there's no such thing as a perfect execution -- and I reminded myself of that.
I can probably pull it through a while longer, especially with the recent...uncomplication, I suppose, is the word.
I'm no longer engaged.
It's a long story, one I probably won't tell here for various reasons, and it's not worth expressing condolences over. Life sucks at times.
Anyway, I'm currently working a second non-paying position now, one with a little more potential for long-term growth, perhaps. It's remote, though, so it's kind of...impersonal.
Quietly sidestepping whatever it may say about me, it's probably better for me in the long run.
So I threw on Memento and typed, transfixed, into this page to produce this entry.
I felt the need to write earlier, to write something fictive that I believe was related to some old writing I'd done a while back for a novel. I lost whatever it was on the ride home from the job, though, so I decided to ramble in here for a bit.
I'd like to return to my previous prolific journaling, but I know that's unlikely. At the very least, I'd like to drop a few entries in this thing (say, seven or so a week) and perhaps two major entries, one in each blog.
Assuming -- quite optimistically -- that the blogs are still there.