Growling I throw my head back and let loose a storm. I'm tired of pouring my energy into something that isn't me. Ever have a day where it seemed that everything must be done and none of it was something you believed it? Of course you have; you're human same as me.
Ever had a year where every day was like that?
And now the song is breaking, spilling from my heart of hearts. The iceberg just hit Titanic and it's sinking. Me, I'm dancing a jig in Steerage, the pub band's barely warmed up. I know soon I'll be under and I'm dying to be born.
Can I just say "thank you" to everyone of you bloggers out there? Seriously. Not to be taken lightly. I've been catching up on reading and I am astounded (ASTOUNDED) by the wisdom and encouragement out there. Writing is hard. Those who don't write will argue that point and I let them. They can't understand the death of every pen stroke. I do. You do. This community of bloggers I've found myself a part of (a tiny, floundering, blubbering part) always pushes me forward in this vocation. You probably don't know how much your words mean. The words you fling out into the ether really do matter.
Keep howling up a storm.
As for me, I'm in transition. It's a wonderful thing, watching life be born. It's painful and uncomfortable when it's your own. But I'm breathing a bit easier now days. Why?
Because soon I'll bid farewell to The Job. 31 March. I shall ride my own Horse of the Apocalypse out the door and declare "The End is Here!" After that?
Oh, the places I'll go.
You'll see a lot more of me here. I've put the other blog on hold for a while. I feel an urgency towards writing and I'm throwing myself headlong into these black waters. I'm ready.
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