Insecure Writers Support Group #3

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I dropped the ball on this month’s IWSG, but I promise I have moderately decent excuses. First of all, it was my birthday. Second of all, I was at Disneyland, and if there’s one thing I take seriously it’s Disneyland. I’m what you might call insufferable when I get the chance to go, and my poor boyfriend had to witness me at full Disney force. I practically dragged him through the park, and he was an amazing sport and didn’t complain once while I navigated us at full speed, charging through crowds and dodging strollers to make sure we made the most of our one day there. And I must say, we did it. We managed to do and see everything I had hoped to see, and had a fantastic time in the process. He even created this amazing scavenger hunt for me that started the day before, when we drove down, that led me to surprises throughout the park, then culminated after our day was done. It was really special, and I don’t know if I’ve ever had such a wonderful day on my birthday. (I want to describe it further, but I might do that in another post.) What fell the wayside during our 5 days in LA, though, was naturally my writing. Funny that it’s the first thing I always let drop when things get busy, but I’m positive I’m not the only writing-person (using “writer” today feels undeserved) who has that problem.

I have one foot in NaNoWriMo and one foot out, and while I haven’t networked or outlined or posted anything on social media I was hoping to participate anyway. And I was good at it, for a few days before we went down south. Luckily for me, I’m recently unemployed and a grad school dropout (winning combo, I know) so I’ve got plenty of time on my hands to catch up on what I missed. It’s been a busy week or so: just before Halloween, I dragged my boyfriend to my cousin’s Napa wedding for two nights. With all these fun(ish…the wedding was more obligatory) trips and events I haven’t really sat down to focus on my next step. I’ve applied for a few gigs in immersive arts, but nothing so secure that I’d be set financially even if I did get them. They’re more the pursuing-your-dreams, less the pursuing your future finances or ways-to-get-your-family-to-approve-of-you type things. I’m wishy washy and have a hard time committing to one path, and a harder time finishing what I start. Which is why it’s hard, right now, to convince myself that NaNoWriMo is worth my time when I have some pretty big obstacles in front of me, mainly getting a job and figuring out which grad schools I might want to apply to for next year.

Losing my job, which also functioned as much more and dropping out of school in the same week was really hard. I was already depressed before, but I’ve slunk into a pretty rough state as of late. I’m really hoping that working on this novel, or whatever the hell kind of thing this is because it’s turning out to be very, very strange, will help me feel like I have some purpose, or even just offer an escape for the time being. Hell, I’d almost rather take the escape. And going back to the past week, I am still a little weirded out at how much of a 180 I did as soon as I got a day at Disneyland. I just turned 26, not 5, and while I understand there are Disney freaks of all ages, I always thought I was way too much of a cynical nihilist to be one. But my boyfriend saw it, and it was real: the depression I’ve been battling, the anxiety and the bodily fatigue that makes it difficult to get out of bed or do anything, it was all alleviated for that one day. I felt like a powerhouse. Now, as someone who tries to be socially conscious and understands how fucked up the Disney mentality is, I feel kind of ashamed of this. I grew up in a wealthy suburb where perfection and blindness go hand in hand, so I know better. But still, god damnit, going back to Disneyland made me feel great for one day. I even got a free birthday churro. So thanks, Disneyland, and thanks, sweet, wonderful Boyfriend, but now I must go back into my writing cave of obsession and anguish as I catch up on all that I’ve missed.

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