Miles to go
Chilly, breezy walk around the Reservoir this morning. I was tempted to go back to bed, but I got out and did it. I was the only person there when I arrived, except a DPW truck. I didn't sleep much last night because I felt nauseated. Weird thing to keep me awake and I don't know why. Was it that piece of matza toffee?
I saw a Mary Oliver quote on Mastodon: The most regretful people on earth are those who felt the call to creative work, who felt their own creative power restive and uprising, and gave to it neither power nor time. - Mary Oliver
Oof. I feel this. I was also inspired by the Masterclass I was watching about building a career on how the world chips away at our childhood desires. All I ever wanted to be was a writer and I wrote with joy. Then I was turned away at the castle door and never looked back. This blog was an attempt to get some writing into my day, so perhaps I could write fiction. I flirt with stories, with ideas, but they don't make it onto paper. Back then I just wrote, now I'm aware of all that goes with it. The techniques, strategies, quality measures and of course the actual getting published part. The marketing. The being a public person. This goes back to Neil's Masterclass where he said that you have to open the door and put private things out in the world. I would be horrified if anyone read this, and yet I dip my toe in public posting, knowing that it will get lost in the noise. I do think, however, that if I never try to write, it will be a regret to the end of my life.
My cousin died. We were not close and that is a whole family bag of trash but still. Now I know so much more and realize that he never got the help he needed. Or any empathy. Rest in peace, CAN III.
I saw a Mary Oliver quote on Mastodon: The most regretful people on earth are those who felt the call to creative work, who felt their own creative power restive and uprising, and gave to it neither power nor time. - Mary Oliver
Oof. I feel this. I was also inspired by the Masterclass I was watching about building a career on how the world chips away at our childhood desires. All I ever wanted to be was a writer and I wrote with joy. Then I was turned away at the castle door and never looked back. This blog was an attempt to get some writing into my day, so perhaps I could write fiction. I flirt with stories, with ideas, but they don't make it onto paper. Back then I just wrote, now I'm aware of all that goes with it. The techniques, strategies, quality measures and of course the actual getting published part. The marketing. The being a public person. This goes back to Neil's Masterclass where he said that you have to open the door and put private things out in the world. I would be horrified if anyone read this, and yet I dip my toe in public posting, knowing that it will get lost in the noise. I do think, however, that if I never try to write, it will be a regret to the end of my life.
My cousin died. We were not close and that is a whole family bag of trash but still. Now I know so much more and realize that he never got the help he needed. Or any empathy. Rest in peace, CAN III.