Yesterday was my 30th birthday and the day itself was just fine. My wife went far out of her way to make sure i had a good day and she did a splendid job. A nice breakfast, followed by a great ride on the local trails. Then out to lunch and quiet afternoon and the day culminated with dinner at a local Italian restaurant we like--D'Anna's Italian Cafe--with some great food, a 1/2 carafe of chianti, a shared tirimasu and an espresso. Great day, if i could turn 30 more often. The day was great but i still can't quite wrap my head around 30 and i think that has more to do with the context of life right now, everything being scattered and up in the air.
I feel like a can of spay paint, a rattle can i sometimes call it. In that the little ball is rattling around in my brain and i have to be shaken up and frequently to be productive but unlike a rattle can, with me I'm never sure what color is going to spray out the nozzle. Thoughts and ideas and interests and desires and dreams and goals are all pin-balling their way around my mind, sometimes to the point of breaking free of my skull and splitting me wide open. It is a constant struggle for me to contain individual threads of my mind long enough to explore and expand them individually and consequently i am guilty of perpetually starting stories and threads of thought and then loosing them completely to another and another. I do not know how novelists like Michner write what they write. The years of research and considerable breadth of his work is absolutely mind blowing to me. That's okay, historical fiction is not my thing, I'm fine with that. But i wish i could figure out what my thing was.
In the run up to 30 i have felt this sense of urgency about me, the need and desire to overcome my indecision and foggy vision for the future. That didn't really happen. Each day brings me closer to a new career and a new direction but the path i have to walk is no clearer now than it was three months ago, the days are long and fraught with frustration and a bit of boredom and the job market/outlook is bleak. Furthering my education, for the purpose of educating, is first on my list now but i don't have a passion or desire to teach, per-se. Is this an echo? I have a passion and desire to read and write and the ultimate goal is to live as a writer. But that means i have to write. Write. Write.
Write more than this blog, more than the random thoughts that are banging around in my head. More that the scribbles of notes that litter my notebooks and post-it notes. I have to be committed to writing and finishing what i start. I have to begin to contain the jumble of crashing asteroids that cloud my mind into organized, focused, and completed thoughts.
Easier written than done.
No comments:
Post a Comment