A bit of seriousness for a moment

Today I’m steering away from usual light-hearted or funnier posts.

I’m not really feeling to light-hearted or funny this week.

So, for now, I’m going to be serious. Which for those who know me, know that doesn’t happen often. I’m not a particularly serious individual. I’m more sarcastic than anything.

But, at some point, that needs to end. Eventually, someone will come along and shit on your parade. It may be your parents, a friend, spouse or the government. (No folks, the government is not shitting on my parade today.)

As so many of you know, I write. (Obviously) I’m pretty obsessed with it really. I have this drive and determination to be published. At first, everybody was fairly supportive. As time has gone on, with no finished product, the support is dwindling. While I tell everyone who has a dream to go for it, it’s becoming apparent that mine, just is not worth it. My obsession with writing and the spoken word doesn’t pay the bills. It takes me away from my family and at the rate I’m going, it is rather pointless.

Even the blog, what good is it?

All I do is write. Really. That’s all I do from the moment I wake up till I go to sleep. I write…or read. The only good it is doing now is that my children are trying to read. Right now Eli is looking through my mothers medical terminology book pretending to read it. Okay, I clean too. I’m OCD. Which is rubbing off on Brett. He just cleaned up the living room for me.

I read a quote a few days ago,

“You cannot be a good writer of serious fiction if you are not depressed”

 Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

If that is true, my writing must be f*ckig genius.

Honestly, I can deny it till I’m blue in the face, but it’s true. I’m really f*cking depressed. There is no particular reason that I can think of. It just sort of happened I suppose. I don’t even know when, but the only way I know to get things out or at least to ignore it is by writing or reading. And I think that is what some people don’t understand. Its my escape. Instead of turning to ciggy’s, drugs, alcohol or promoscuity…I write and I read. I enrich my mind and my soul. It may not be as important to others, but for me, it is. I love it.

I also love hockey…but I can’t watch that every night. I can write and I can read though. The worlds I create, or other writers create help to suck me into a world where the main character is able to overcome their obstacles and have their happily ever after. Even if it takes 7 books to get there. They live in worlds that are fantastical that this world…it seems so obsolete. So, plain and boring. There are times I don’t want to leave that world and come back to this one. That is why I love writing and reading so much. I can forget about reality for just a bit. And sometimes, that’s what I need. To forget about life.

Alright, so my pity party is done for the day.


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