Unwritten

This was going to be an entirely different blog about clothing and my inability to locate an appropriate "anything" at the mall this weekend, but I am not going to go there today. My heart isnt in it and why force it. I will save it for another day.

Last night I was on my computer and I was digging through some of my old files looking for my saved documents for the Mortgage guy. I came across a file full of poems and short stories and all sorts of other unfinished creative persuits. I gotta admit it made me very sad. Sure the blog is good for getting things out, but my real feelings are in those files. I used to write every single day, and I wrote about everything even if it was unpleasent, even if it was crazy. I wrote it all down like a photographer takes photos. They are just tiny captured moments, frozen in time. Every feeling associated with them is as fresh and real as the day I put them on paper.

I miss writing, and really it is how I wound up as busy as I am today. People always ask me how I got interested in my current field, and I tell them that I wasnt, I was interested in a job that would afford me the time I needed to write. Thats how I wound up 10 years in the same industry. I dont know that I actually chose it as much as it chose me.

I used to wait tables in a pool hall down from an office building. Folks would always come down at happy hour and get liquored up after a long day at work. Turns out that while I was working one happy hour shift, I got noticed by a woman and her coworker. They were looking for a receptionist and wanted me to interview. At that point in my life I was sort of tired of the server game. The hours were long and the pay sucked, but I did get a whole lot of free alcohol which I thought balenced things out. One day I will tell you all about the pool hall stories like "3 Convict Night", "The Unstable Samoan" and "Avin Becomes A Bouncer" but thats not where I am going with this today.

So I took the lady's advice and interviewed. It was a disaster actually. I dont know if she was ever acquainted with black people before or what her deal was but she was very nervous about things that employers shouldnt be nervous about. First, I still believe I had a discrimination case against her in regard to my nose ring. She actually told the other woman that they wouldnt hire me because of it, but I didnt learn this until almost a year later. It just so happened that I didnt wear it to the interview. Look, if you pick your potential employees out of the pool hall downstairs at happy hour then you cant be picky about whether or not they have a damn nose ring. Second, the last chick she hired had robbed the petty cash drawer with her lil convict boyfriend and she was super extra pressed about making sure I wasnt a petty thief. Again, its a pool hall, not a job fair. I didnt bother to tell her I was also in the process of divorce, that may have sent her over the edge.

So I was offered the job, and I got it down pretty fast. I started chipping away at my novel again and just when I thought I had hit an everyday groove, I was promoted. Seems I was doing so well in my current position, they wanted me to move up. Move up is good, more pay and experiance meant less time writing. 10 years later I almost never write. I am so busy these days that I dont have time to be creative I just know how to work and go home. After being on the computer all day at the office, the last thing I want to do is go home and spend more time on it trying to create when really all I want my brain to do is rest.

Writing was always my escape. It always made me feel better and it always helped me to get my head together especially when things are bad and right now, thats what they are. A particularly shitty week that carried over into a difficult weekend makes me think that I never should have stopped writing. Maybe I will get back there and finish one of those novels, or start back to writing poetry I thought at the time was so sophmoric and now I realize has so much more meaning than I ever thought. Its my life, and they are like a photos and though they are faded I still remember every moment.

Oh and could someone PLEASE get these fucking rabid ass Redskin fans the fuck away from my door? I understand they are all just chomping at the bit to get into some sort of tangle with me since I am an Eagles fan but really, can I live? I have work to do that doesnt involve discussing the "Eastern Motors" team and their performance on the field this evening. I understand you are all very crunk about it but I would appreciate it if you would go measure your dicks someplace else. Yes, I am an Eagles fan. No, I dont feel like discussing it today, however this type of behavior does make me want to throw batteries. Please ask Joe Gibbs to hold the ruler for you, I am fucking busy.