It’s phenomenal how quickly your walls come down when you’re just reading, thinking, and writing. When you’re alone...
Tonight, I am typing, and right now what I am writing is a secret from the entire Universe. But in time, I’ll edit these words. I will determine if they are fit to share, and in a day’s time, you—whoever you are and wherever you hail from—will be reading them. And what you will be thinking and doing when you receive these words will remain a complete mystery.
You may become bored and stop reading right here. You may be nodding your head because you know exactly what I mean when I speak about the power of solitude. Or, you may be along for the ride because you just happened to stumble across this place.
My mind is a whirlwind at the moment. I think every age brings new hurdles to soar over (or perhaps crash into), but where I am right now is surely a tall and endless set of hurdles, all of which demand major decisions before I leap over them. It seems the decisions of your twenties can be so definitive. In that decade, people may choose to become college graduates and set out to do their life’s work, whatever their nascent self thinks that work may be. And then in time, twenty-somethings look to find love and make that love last… perhaps forever. And finally, they may decide on parenthood and relocating, both of which leave their old life far behind... perhaps forever.
There’s so much to worry about. So many choices that can’t be undone or redone.
And where am I on the decision-making spectrum? Well, I am a paradox. I am one part undying realist and one part romantic idealist. My college degree proves it, really: English Education. Need I say more? I couldn’t choose my path, so I picked English for the romantic in me, and education for the annoying realist that demanded I be employed in my field fresh out of college.
My crazy dream was to write and become a published author. Why crazy, you may ask… Well because my realist self did the research and learned that only 1% of submitted novels are accepted and published! Yep, my dream in life, my calling, had a 1% chance at survival. So my second dream, which I see as my vocation now, was to teach. So here I am… teaching. It’s the second closest thing to who I really am, and it is quite fulfilling most days. But when you're craving rocky road ice cream and you open the fridge to vanilla… Well, you know what I mean.
I am a teacher secondly because I will always be a writer first, although when I write I do find myself trying to help others by sharing my silly episodes and spiritual “aha moments.” So perhaps the writer and teacher in me are more connected than I first realized…
Well tonight, at this late hour, at a point when all my walls are down, I am confessing to you that I am going after that crazy dream. I’ve made a decision, and now I simply have to run the hurdles. I hear a whisper in my ear and a pang in my gut that I can’t shake, and they tell me that even though I’d have a better chance surviving a triple-bypass, I am going to be a writer… one that actually publishes a novel and makes a living doing it.
Crazy? I know! But it’s who I am first, and if it takes a lifetime of misses or years of unaccepted work, I feel in the life of my blood that it was what I was born to do.
THIS, right now, is the first time that I have ever declared that those are my sincere intentions. I was afraid to say it to anyone for years because I’ve always thought they’d roll their eyes or wait in anticipation for my failure. I worried they'd talk about me when I left the room and giggle at my naïveté.
But you know what? I DON’T CARE.
I always thought, hey maybe my writing is terrible and no one’s got the guts to tell me. Maybe I am delusional. The world doesn’t need another writer! What will I say that hasn’t already been said? I created a masterpiece of perfectly realistic reasons why NOT to write.
But you know what? I DON’T CARE.
If I fail, at least I know I got in the race, and I didn’t stand on the sidelines watching all the other runners glide over their hurdles. In a way, I guess this blog is one way I put myself in the race subconsciously… because when I started it, I was very fearful. I thought, what if no one reads it? What if I am posting to no one? What if people literally write mean things or tell me I can’t write? Well, none of those pesky “what ifs” were true, and that’s why I hate them so much and why my “realist-self” and I are not on speaking terms.
Making this blog was my way of getting in the race, and posting this admission—or really declaration—is my way of jumping one of those many hurdles. So I guess tonight I could say, “One hurdle down, and ninety-nine more to go!” as I make a go at that 1% chance, at that crazy dream.
*Disclaimer: I know this post is random, a bit unhinged really, but I want to take these lines to thank all my readers out there for helping me find some courage to chase after my crazy dream.