I put so many things off while my mother was sick; school, acting, career decisions, financial decisions, travel, etc. I felt I needed to stay flexible should I need to go back suddenly, so I kept myself in a suspended state of daily survival, a state not unlike holding my breath for a very long time.
Now she’s gone, and I’m left with the fact that the only thing standing between me and my future is myself. I find myself lately in long moments of paralysis, unable to act upon the world. So I get acted upon; the undesireable elements (home, work, health) of my life continue, and I haven’t taken the steps to change them.
The Studly Couple returned from Hawaii last night, flying into a dark and windy city. Louie and I are back home, our Week of Peace officially over. No more excuses. It’s time to find a new place to live.
I’ve had difficulty imagining where to take my writing. (To the nearest landfill, says the Inner Critic) Although I hate making definitive statements about my talents (or lack thereof), I know it’s what I do best. Dogpoet has helped me start, but I can’t make a living blogging. And I do want to make a living writing. I want to stop settling for low-level non-profit administrative jobs that fulfill my yearning to contribute to the Greater Good, but that leave me uninspired and resentful after a year because they take up all of my time.
I’ve thought about pursuing an MFA, but I haven’t made up my mind. Most schools want you to pursue fiction or poetry, but I keep coming back to this creative non-fiction thing, so that narrows the field. (Then I read articles like this, and I feel stupid for wanting to write about real life. I swear, listen to enough people and you’ll never do anything your entire life.) Besides, I’m not sure if an MFA is the end or the means. I suppose it would help if I had a clearer idea of Who I Wanted to Be. Then when it comes time to actually apply to a program, I’ll need some recommendations, and since I’ve been out of school for almost ten years, I’ll need people familiar with my current work, which means I need to meet some other writing professionals, and have sex make friends with them. And I need more current work.
Which brought me to the next logical step: take a class. It took awhile, but I can finally afford one, so today I signed up for an online creative nonfiction workshop through UC-Berkeley Extension. I’d prefer a real-life course with classroom discussion/dialogue, etc, but there was a time conflict so I thought I’d give this online class thing a try. So. Little baby steps. You thought I made everything look easy, didn’t you? Someday you’ll learn.