2001-12-20 1:01 p.m.
might-be futures by candlelight

Good ideas, moving forward, moving backward...my book's evolving before my eyes, aspects reflecting my past, my could-be present, my might-be future.

I'm excited about it. S's eyes light up whenever she sees that. I think the prospect of an unexciting life worries her. I know it does me.

S. and my roommate are both heading to their respective family homes tomorrow for a week or so, and while I'm happy to have both of them in my life, I'll be glad to have a stretch of time to myself.

Events lately have been guiding me to retrace some of my life's steps: critiquing a coworker's screenplay, looking at my music collection and realizing how much of a standstill it's come to (i.e. no new stimuli, esp. at work), my goals when I left college/Georgia/Miami/etc.... I always manage to forget what I know/love/need out of life above the simple and necessary. I end up blank, forgetful, unaware and hazy on a path with no destination.

I can either stay on it and meander for another little while, or I can choose a destination that I can't see yet and bulldoze a path to it through unfamiliar ground.

When I left Florida for New York, I wanted to be in publishing or journalism because I felt I could learn an industry that would be forever practical. If I worked for a publisher or an agent, I could learn the book business inside and out before I ever put pen to paper. If I worked for a magazine or newspaper, I could have a paying reason to seek out new experience, hone my craft, time to "live" so that what I wrote would have substance, or so I felt.

The fatal misconception was that I needed to do any of those things in order to write.

I've been busting my ass with D. for most of a year attempting to break into a farcically small industry (comics), all the while ignoring my own personal growth/experience/needs/wants. I broke up with Mei (yes, I said her name again in print, oops) because I was too busy focusing in on her and my own unemployment-based depression to have/use energy/time/ideas for myself. My mother once told me, laughingly, "If you're going to make a mistake, at least make it a new one." Good advice. Having S. in my life is one of the best things that's ever happened to me, and I'm not going to let my actions/inactions (where self-fulfillment are concerned) get between us.

I'm still going to work with D. as time allows, as imagination allows, as desire allows, as we're amazing when we're plugged into that sweet vein of creativity together. But I'm also not going to kill myself in the process by working strange hours, putting up with his toxic levels of selfishness, nor am I going to keep on with meaningless jobs that teach me nothing and challenge me less, all to spend my free time on comics. There's so much more percolating in my brain these days.

My coworker Maribel brought her daughter to work on Friday, and Stefania was playing with her Barbie and the McDonald's playset that she got as a present.

I'm very frightened of the toy store now.