I haven't written for quite a while and I feel off kilter, unbalanced and anxious. Life is busy. Summer is ending and I am awaiting a response on a screenwriting month long fellowship I applied for. Things feel surreal, as if change is on the horizon.
Yet, isn't every day a new day? An opportunity to make a change? This is the longest I've ever been at a job. Almost seven years. I love being a deputy public defender. It's challenging, rewarding and I get plenty of vacation days.
Being me is hard. I work really hard, play hard, then need to recharge my batteries.
I guess what I am trying to say is that I am in a pickle. When do my dreams become a priority? There is only now I think. This typing on a screen watching the words appear one at a time. It is the only time I feel real, and at home. In short, it is bliss.
Shouldn't we all go for our bliss? I know that is true in theory, but reality is much harder. Pragmatism kills an artist's soul and I have become much of a pragmatist in my forties.
Perhaps too much of a pragmatist me thinks.