It all happens for a reason. Or, at the least, I should learn from the crap that occurs so that it is less painful.
Today, I refocus. Well, no, not today, exactly. I’ve been working on it all along – the month-long resolutions, for example. The skeleton of a bathroom, as another.
I haven’t weighed myself, but I’m wearing jeans that didn’t fit two weeks ago. It was never an intention to skip meals. Yet I realized, suddenly, this morning, that I might have had lunch once this week, and I can think of two nights were I had no interest in supper. I like it – fitting into clothing I didn’t have the heart to bring to Goodwill. It doesn’t count for the resolution though. No way. I made the resolution to go to the gym because when I exercise, I have more energy. It wasn’t a weight thing, even though I was disgusted at the added pounds over the past six to twelve months. I haven’t given up on that. Yet.
As for the other resolution, I hesitate to even mention it. I typed and I deleted and I typed again trying to explain why. Nothing I write seems to come out in a way that can’t be misinterpreted. I’m trying hard not to sound snarky – because I’m not – yet, I’ve become so defensive lately. It hurts to treat my writing in this way. My Muses are holding secret conferences without me and I suspect a mutiny if I don’t release them from their chains soon.
The writing resolution may have to be delayed to another month, maybe to this spring. The circumstances were unforeseen and still make my head spin. The corrupted flash drive seems like a warning now, in hindsight. The omen I ignored, desperately trying to rescue stories that were best left dead. Bah, I’m probably overreacting. I tend to let my emotions reign like sovereign nobility. I can only pretend to be black-hearted, borrowing the cold from those around me.
There is a bottomless pit under my feet, but I’ve yet to start falling. No, that’s not Emo. I can fly. Didn’t you know? Didn’t you see the black feathered wings? We see what we want to see – no more, no less.