Swallowed

Where oh where have I been? Was I eaten by wolves? No. Was I abducted by little gray beings and fondled with electrodes? No—not that I’m saying that couldn’t happen. I’ve just been busy working on some freelance projects, regretting saying yes to them, to one project in particular, to one very long project that swallowed me whole, you should have seen me this weekend, it was a study in pathetics. Also, there was that headache again. Also, on Friday, the person I supervised at work left for a new and better job and I would be lying if I didn’t say it hit me extremely hard. We had the most incredible relationship, and I just can’t imagine being there without her. It will be different.

All this time I have not been posting on this blog, coincidentally, I have also not been writing. Not a word. Taking on so many freelance projects was a mistake. I am looking forward to getting a life back, to the other side of existence where I am two things and two things only: 1) a good publishing citizen at my day job (but not to extremes—for example, taking the catalog home to work on till 10:30 last night was not healthy, but these are extenuating circumstances), and 2) an artist.

In fact #2 should be #1. There is nothing wrong with being two things at once, but I want #2 to be #1.

In the lost days of the past week I missed a writing contest; probably hundreds of exciting blog posts; a book I wrote under a pseudonym routed through my office, I shrugged, didn’t even page through it, initialed the form, let it move on; I had too many cupcakes; and I forgot that I was writing a novel. Forgot! How is such a thing possible? In the next week I will be a witness at City Hall so a friend I know from junior high can get married; I will have lunch with someone I met at a young writers conference when I was 17; I will go upstate for Mother’s Day; I will go away to see my baby sister graduate college; I will scramble to make another writing deadline; I will look forward to the week after that to breathe.

Last night, I found this: “The Artist in the Office: Living the Dream with a Day Job” by Summer Pierre. It’s like she’s speaking just to me. I’m about to email her to ask for a copy.


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