I don’t write to be famous, I don’t write to be known, I write because I am and I want to be read. How sad to fill a room with paintings no one sees or play music no one hears. Writing is talking without sound, singing without score and dancing without movement and yet, it is all of them. It is a solitary art conjured from thought and expressed by the need to communicate.

HEAD SLAPS, SPEED BUMPS and LIGHTBULBS, one woman's WTF, oops and ah-ha moments of life.

They were published once, and as every writer knows, once is not enough.

Saturday, April 23, 2016

Clock in, clock out

Oh my, it’s been over a month since I’ve posted.
Busy with family. Yes they do come first.
And I am unbelievably busy at the job I hate love.
Because I am so physically taxed at work I am totally spent by the end of my work day.

I rise at 4:45am, at work by 7. (I squeeze in email corralling and FB during my early breakfast.) For the next nine hours I am trekking 4 to 5 miles, bending, lifting and doing what I physically have to do to get a paycheck. Ten years ago I’d say, “…my job keeps me fit”, now I think it’s just plain wearing me down. Though it sounds like it, I am not complaining.

Like my husband says, “it is what it is.”

My point in sharing this tale of woe is that ‘my tired’ has effected my writing time. I’m editing a not-sure-what-to-call-it and working on my column. I’m trying to read and research and live up to ancillary obligations, which means posting has fallen far down the list.

But, here I am.
Because words feed me oxygen.
I have tomorrow off.
Tonight I breathe.

Have you ever been suffocated by obligation and how did you get catch your breath?