I can't believe it's been two years since I updated this story. Two. Freaking. Years.
*sigh*
Well, you know what? Life is a bitch and time can't be bought.
Life just has this way of sucking out all the inspiration in a woman. Job, dog, house, family--these things all require all my attention. When I finally do get to settle down and chill for a minute, all I want to do is sleep. Or eat. Or mindlessly watch television. Or mindlessly eat while watching television and then dozing off on the couch to take a nap before bed.
Lately, my inner muse has been clearing her throat, trying to get my attention and I'm all, "What? I don't have TIME! I have to DO ALL THE THINGS!!" Honestly, even if I had the means to write at home--which I don't right now--the last thing I want to do when I come home from a job that sucks the life out of me is sit down in front of a computer and put stories on "paper." Stories that, let's be honest, nobody is going to really read and enjoy anyway.
I thought the writer dream had died, though. I sang it a farewell song and cried over it's coffin because I hadn't been inspired to write in so long. I have this job that takes up all my energy and time and has even made me bitter and mean; and why would anyone want to read what a bitter, mean, spinster library associate wrote?
But apparently, the writer dream didn't die. It just took a long nap so that I could have the time and space to flip out, stress eat my way into an extra 20lbs I don't need and really learn to hate getting up in the mornings. Now that I'm fully mired in professional misery it's rubbing its eyes and wiping away the drool, hoping that I'll come build a snowman with it.
I AIN'T GOT TIME FOR NO STINKIN' SNOWMANS.
The writer dream ain't got time for no stinkin' stressed out woman, either.
If I thought or honestly believed that writing would be my ticket out of my current professional misery, I'd flex my credit card, buy a computer and write till my fingers popped off and my eyes bled. But earning a living from writing does not come easy, nor does it happen to 99.9% of the dreamers who write. What are the odds that anything I wrote would ever see the light of a publishing house? Slim to none. Especially since I am notorious for never actually finishing anything I write. I'd like to present this here on-line serial blog as evidence, Your Honor.
