Monthly Archives: April 2015

Rainy Days and Mondays

So, the title of this is based on a Carpenters’ song, “Rainy Days and Mondays.”  It is not raining.  It is Monday.  The preceding line is “hanging around, nothing to do but frown.”  And only half of that sentence is true.  I’m not frowning — life is pretty good.  Though I am just hanging around.

I sat down at my computer tonight and tried to write.  Okay — I didn’t try.  I did write.  I actually produced 902 words of something that had been percolating in my brain.  But I didn’t feel it.  It didn’t feel right.  I don’t know why.

Now, after browsing the book of Face, I’m here, writing a blog post for the world (let’s be honest, there are two readers out there who occasionally check in and see what I’m blathering about…though to be fair, I don’t post that often) to see.

I think the feeling I’m experiencing is loneliness.  I mean, I’m 38, don’t have a ton of friends, and seem to become more and more antisocial as time goes on.  Not sure what that is.  Do I take solace in my alone-ness?  Not really.  I prefer to be doing things, honestly.  But it seems like everyone has gone on.  So, I’m trying to find things to do, things to occupy my time.

Like I said, I don’t have anything to complain about, really.  I have a job, and although it’s not my dream job, I’m content enough there.  I have a boyfriend whom I love very much.  I have a roof over my head, I have a bed to sleep, I have a car, I have things, I have friends, although the numbers are not great.  I just feel like there’s more inside of me that I have to get out, that I have to express — and yet, I don’t know how to do it.

Damn it.  Did I peak already?  Was my golden age at 30?  Yikes.  that makes for a very lonely and sad rest of my life, however long it should be.

I have the want and the need to create, to inspire, to do something — and yet I don’t know what that is.  I feel so much on the precipice of something big, something monumental — but what could that be?  Art?  Language?  Curing cancer?   Battling androids in a galaxy a million miles away?  Maybe.  Though not today.

It’s 9:17 on a Monday night, and I have my tea in front of me, I’m staring into a computer screen, and I’m allowing myself this time to just be — to get my thoughts out of my head so I can sleep restfully.  I could exercise, though I did that tonight already.  I could watch TV, but I did that also.  Wow, I have a lot of free time on my hands.

Maybe I should write a play?  About what?  I don’t know.  Maybe some experimental art piece about a napkin that gets used by a lady, and suddenly, jazz hands are everywhere!  No…no…mostly because that’s a horrible idea.

Damn it, I need a hobby.  I need something.  Maybe I continue to journal nightly, to meditate, to do something with my time other than turn into a vegetable?  Perhaps.

I’ve never been one to be idle — I like having activities, doing things, creating and shaping the world.  I don’t think I used to realize how much alone time I had because before, I was always doing theatre.  I was in rehearsal, and then performing — it would occupy my time.  Now — it seems as though those projects are few and far between, and as a result, the friends that I made in the theatre are just simply not there.  Gypsies — moving from one friendship to the next.  Of course, everyone says “Let’s get together and have coffee,” but they never do.  It’s all lip service, really.  And the ones that do want to get together only do it if they think you can offer them something.

I just need a good, solid connection with a group of people — some friends that I can hang out with — that aren’t afraid of me, warts and all.  But I might be too set in my way for that now.

And here we go — this blog post is almost as long as the garbage I wrote earlier tonight.  I mean — it’s a little bit more scatterbrained, but it’s just as long, and isn’t that what matters?  Size?  No??  Damn….

It’s all good, really.  I’m sure I’ll be fine tomorrow, once I get up, go back to my desk, sit there for hours on end, and then come home.  And once I’m home, then I’m sure I’ll be happy to just be home, and doing nothing.  And hey, my boyfriend gets home tomorrow night.  Though maybe I’ll have already had a drink.

Maybe THAT’s what I need!  Maybe I should become an alcoholic, and drink my sorrows away, whatever those sorrows may be.  No?  Sheesh.  You, Mister Internet Reader, are no fun.

So, instead, I’ll go back to playing Words with Friends, Bubble Witch Saga, and dream of the Great.American.Novel — the one that I haven’t finished.

Do you know, I have several stories that I’ve written, that have never become anything at all?  Lots of starts.  LOTS of starts.  No endings.  I did finish a musical once.  So, that’s something.  I’d like to have a body of work — something that I can say to people — hey, yes, I completed this.  Heck, maybe i’ll do the November Novel writing month thing — though, that would require finishing a story.  And I don’t know that I have the wherewithal for that.  I’m sure I do — but it seems epic.

I don’t know — I like collaborating.  I like being able to bounce ideas off of each other, and say, “Yes, and…”  It feeds my soul to work in that sort of atmosphere.  I try not to take it personally when people say that they want to collaborate but they are too busy.  I have too much time, they have too little time.  It’s a conundrum.

That’s actually how I started writing my musical.  I wanted to collaborate with people, and they were too busy, so I just did it.  The book, the lyrics, the music, the idea — everything.  And it’s sitting not produced in my computer.  I’ve had a few readings, but nothing beyond that.  I’d love an angel investor to say, “Hey, we love the arts!  Put on a show!”  And that would be amazing.  Maybe someday.  Or I could try to write something new, something exciting, something fresh and original.  I don’t know what that looks like yet, but maybe something will come.  At least this blog has helped to get the juices flowing somewhat.  I mean, this combined with the baloney I wrote earlier puts me over 2,000 words.  That’s pretty impressive — considering half of it  was a stream of consciousness and the other half bordered on horrible YA fiction.  But hey, it worked for that Twilight lady.

All right — that’s the end of my saga for tonight.  Thanks for reading, Bill.

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