Well it was pointed out to me that it's been over a week since I last posted. That it has. And, it made me focus on why I haven't posted. It's not like I haven't had the opportunity. I've been on the computer numerous times at home. I've certainly kept up with the blog reading. I think it has something to do with my last big lapse in posting around mid-march.
Anyway, a couple of quick notes before I completely delve into wallowing self-pity or whatever the hell it is. This holds great promise for me. It has the potential to bring about balance in the force.
Ok, here's where the casual reader can stop, in fact everyone can stop here if they'd like. The rest of this is sure to be long, rambling, full of self-loathing and inconclusive bs.
After dinner on Thursday the 28th with Susie and the Warners I went about my normal nightly routine. Terri and I (mostly Terri) put Gage to bed, Terri soon followed and I caught up on some paperwork and magazine reading. Being afflicted with insomnia, or an overactive thought process, sometimes keeps me up even when I don't want to be. Sure, it was wonderful during those all nighters in college, but nowadays with Gage getting up at 6:30 occasionally, it's not so pleasant. Anyway, I always have some noise coming from the television whether I'm actually watching or not. That night it happened to be
this. I'm pretty sure everyone I know has seen this movie. And, if you haven't, I'm sure you can buy it from Target the moment they open. There's nothing earth shattering about watching that particular movie. Hell, I've done it numerous times before. However, the last several times I've seen the movie I've been left with a little nagging feeling in me. That movie combined with the news the next day of Mr. Bell's death kind of brought that nagging to the surface. Til now I haven't really figured out what it means. Hell, I'm still not sure I have it figured out. Anyway, the movie left me with that vague feeling. Which I realized also had occurred earlier in March after watching this movie. And that feeling was intensified by seeing Terri's colleague play at the coffee house and singing the song "Lucky One" by Alison Krauss. There's a line in the song that says "Jack of all trades, master of none." That really sunk it home for me. When you think about that in conjunction with "Carpe Diem" and "Get busy livin' or get busy dyin'" I wonder exactly what the hell I've been doing with my life. I have two writing degrees. Do I write? No. Do I want to? I think so. I used to be a fairly proficient actor. Do I act? No. Do I want to? I think so. The list is endless. Things that I'm fairly good at. Nothing that I excel at. Nothing that drives me to neglect reading the latest issue of Entertainment Weekly in favor of sitting at the typewriter. Perhaps I'm afraid of rejection. Perhaps I'm afraid that after devoting a little over half my life to my chosen profession, I'll find out that I don't belong there. That my six figure school loan debt was just a chance to build two and a half kick-ass buggies and earn me perhaps the oddest wedding gift ever seen. Speaking of EW, the last couple issues have had book reviews with Jonathan Safran Foer and his wife Nicole Krauss. Both have just recently published their second novels. Not that remarkable all things considered. Except that both of them are younger than I am. (Now we hit the crux of the matter) Not only do I feel old, but I'm too old to be the whiz kid that I always thought I was. Hell, I was once even hired to be the company whiz kid. I'm also wondering if perhaps I'm too old to try and break as a novelist (especially considering my novel resembles the "naked page" project that Jonathan once ran in another magazine that I read regularly. I rarely put together pieces as coherent as Susie. I'm not as ironic as Dwight. I certainly haven't been on Jeopardy like Craig. Or, even on any game show like Joe. I'm not making disposable income or breaking out on my own like The Mutchlers or Tom. I'm not really doing much of anything. I'm on the phone and people ask what's new. I have no answer, and I haven't for a long time. Don't get me wrong, I'm not unhappy with my family, just my situation. I love Terri and Gage and I don't know how I'd get along without them. It's just this overwhelming frustration that keeps creeping back. This frustration all built into this post due to all the overwhelming signs that hammered at me this evening. I had problems getting a simple CSS sheet to work for my Web Development test. I was flipping through the channels and Dead Poet's Society was on (in fact when I started this post, Neil had just committed suicide). Once I saw my favorite scene (with half the class standing on their desks proclaiming O Captain, My Captain and having Robin Williams simply look up in an understated and, for him, completely uncharacteristic manner, to say, "Thank you boys. Thank you.), I flipped around the channels and sure enough there was Tim Robbins and Morgan Freeman. And yes, I flipped on the country station just to check and it wasn't Alison Krauss, but it was close. They were playing Lee Ann Womack's I Hope You Dance. So anyway, I have no closing...it was long, rambling, and mostly incoherent bs, but there it is anyway. Who knows, maybe someday I'll end up like Ron McLarty with the best book you can't read and then you can. Until then, I guess you'll just have to deal with my frustrations and ramblings here.