Lately, my day usually consists of:
-not sleeping the previous night because I can't shut my mind off
-seeing Thom off to work
-staying in bed watching Angel and Charmed until 11am or so
-get up, maybe eat some lunch
-look for a job
-stay in my pj's all day because I'm too lazy to get dressed
-lather, rinse, repeat
I don't mind being at home, but I feel lost.
Everytime I look for a job, I get all stressed out because I keep thinking of the job that I had and that I won't ever find another job like that in Worcester that paid me some decent money. Sigh.
Purpose. That word reminded me of something. Growing up, I read the kid's magazine, "Highlights - Fun with a purpose." For the longest time, I thought it read, "Highlights - Fun with a porpoise." I always wondered what a dolphin had to do with anything, but I went with it. Then, when I got older, I realized it read Purpose, not porpoise. I still laugh about that today. So go out today and have fun with a porpoise!!
This friday I'm meeting up with a bunch of friends from ex-work to hang out and catch up. I'm looking forward to it, I miss those guys. They always made my day. They used to always wonder and ask me how I can smile all the time. What they didn't realize was that THEY were the reason I was always smiling. Just seeing them made me break out into a huge grin. They are the smartest, funniest, REAL people I've ever met. Maybe it wasn't the job that gave me purpose, it was them. They are what I miss the most and a huge hole has been left in me. I cry everytime I think of them (like I am right now). Deep sigh.
But look, it's now 8:30 and I'm up, showered, dressed in clothes and not pjs, I've eaten breakfast and I have a couple of phone calls to make. I'm going to try to get back into some semblance of a routine. It may mean taking a nap in the afternoon, but at least I'm up. Trying to get back to "normal", whatever that may be.
I've also been tossing the idea around about writing a book. But then I'm thinking, "What do I know about writing a book?" I feel I write like I talk, and I know nothing of protagonists and antagonists and having a plot, etc. What will the book be about? I guess me. So that gets me to thinking, "Who the hell would want to read a book about me? Who the hell am I?" Aside from you, my loyal readers, I can't see it being a best seller! :) I have a rough outline done already, to give some direction, but I also babble and go off on tangents. So who knows if this will ever come to fruition.
Speaking of writers, my sister Lizz, is an AWESOME writer! She writes what I consider "author-worthy" stuff. This is just a sample of her writing:
Warning: the following may be disturbing to some viewers. Viewer discretion is advised. But, please let me know what you think...
The bushes serve me well in my purpose. I have become rather proficient at waiting. The suspense is sometimes enough to satisfy me. Finally, you emerge and walk steadily across the deserted lot, your wedding ring reflecting a light that gains no entrance to my unblinking eye. My heart pounds in my ears as my attention shifts momentarily to the weapon of your reckoning and the instrument of my masterpiece: the knife, it weighs heavy in my pocket. Its handle feels good in my hand. I long to wield it all about your body like a maestro conducting his orchestra. But, I release my grasp with a heavy heart for you just turned around and went back inside, most likely to gather an escort for your second attempt to your car.
It was as if you knew eyes were upon you. It was as if you could smell my hatred for you. Now, I must return home and wait for your arrival with a loosened tie, all the while rehearsing my performance of the hard day I should have had for when you ask me how it was.
The man behind the bushes reveals his true intent. The man you see at home is but a shadow of the one he wants to be. Until then, I wait for the perfect moment when I can have you where I want you. I can envision it so clearly. I will close my fingers around the back of your slender neck, staring into the eyes that once loved me. And, with one final swish of my knife across your throat, I conclude the symphony of your screams and bow my head to accept the applause.
Wow, I was just blown away by this. The comparison between a symphony and murder was breathtaking. It's visual, it holds your attention and it's raw. Awesome job, Lizz, I'm so proud of you!!
