I launched (or rather, re-launched) my public blog this week.
It's all about religion and religious culture and the search for capital T truth and meaning and the celebration of uncertainty and not having answers.
But will also probably be about gender and sexuality and politics and have way too many Star Wars references.
Check it out if you want. theholyapostate.com
I cannot tell you how good I feel about it. There has been a lot of positive response so far and I haven't even really done anything yet. Once I figure out how to market myself a little better, I think the thing can really grow.
Even now, I feel like I am handling my shit like a business man and that feels pretty great.
I had lunch with a friend yesterday and she was telling me about how she used to be on a trajectory towards Broadway. The stage was everything to her, and everyone around her "just knew" that she was going to make it big. But the thing was the pressure and competition of it, plus the fact that it was never really her idea to pursue that life (it was thrust upon her because of her talent) made her miserable. She knew that if she kept doing theater it would kill her. And not in a hyperbolic sense. She told me that she had plans to kill herself and had her mom not picked up on that and let her stop acting, she would have went through with it.
And I heard this and thought that my experience was kind of the opposite. Since the second grade, all I've ever wanted to do was be a writer. But my parents and teachers and pretty much everyone else would always just say that I could never make it. That it would be too hard. That no one ever makes a living at it.
So I stopped pursuing the goal before I even started. I stopped writing altogether for a very long time. It wasn't until I discovered this dear old diary back in the early 2000s that I started falling in love with the written word again. But by then, I was in my early twenties and had missed out on like ten years when I could have been writing. When I think about the writing classes and workshops I could have taken as a kid and teen, I get a little pissed. And I also feel a tinge of irritation when I consider how through my twenties and early thirties I still only wrote occasionally and never in a serious fashion. I knew I loved doing it and even felt at times that I was pretty damn good at it, but I was never serious because "no one ever makes it as a writer."
But like my friend, there comes a point where things break.
She knew that if she kept doing theater she would die.
And I know now that if I keep avoiding writing, it will kill me.
This diary has bore witness to how many times it almost has.
So all of that to say that I don't give a fuck anymore about whether or not I will make it. I don't give a fuck about being pragmatic or compromising my vision in trade for a bit more security.
I am going to write.
And things are going to happen.
Oh, and since I got a few notes about my last entry (thank you everyone for the advice!), let me give a quick update:
She took my telling her we should just be friends really well. She was a little heartbroken, but got where I was coming from.
And I feel better and better about the decision. It wasn't right. We weren't right for each other.
Things will happen in their time. Right now is the time for other things.
1:57 p.m. - 2017-03-18
Recent entries:
A Letter to my Future Wife - 2017-04-16
A Metaphor for Sadness - 2017-04-09
The Social Wallflower - 2017-04-04
Kind of a Weird Day - 2017-04-02
row, row, row your boat - 2017-03-29
My profile
Archives
Notes
Diaryland
Random
RSS
others:
holdensolo
loveherwell
lust-
bantenhut
nudeplatypus
comebacktome
musicman575
i-lost-sarah
newschick
stardumb
hexes
gonzoprophet
cybers1ut
meffinmisfit
movingsands
the-grey-one
dangerspouse
unowhatilike
silverluna
elusive-you
tobehis
kenny-loo
brothasistas
my-rant
is-life
godsintimate
ruby--sky
creme-egg
darkly-blue
reevo
i-am-jack
similar
dooki
dagkyo
obijuan
buddyboy5
u2october
mojo1915
dudemanflab
aryssa90
baby--girl
alwaysinhim
cindylou03
gr8legs
greenstar7
krunkjazz
spittingame