A New Day Job

For the last 18 months I've been lucky enough to work part-time in the ____ field that is my day job. Money has been tight but we've had enough to get by and I've had time to write, take film classes, go to the gym and deal with some times when my son needed extra attention.

Today, however, I was offered a new better job in my field. I didn't apply for it, it just kind of fell into my lap. It's good money - more than twice what I'm making now - with good benefits, in a convenient location, with reasonable hours. There is really no way that I could turn it down. So I didn't.

Here's the weird thing. As many things as there are for me to be happy about (more money! benefits!) or worried about (less time to write, less time to get to the gym) the only thing I've really felt is some kind of weird excitement about being in an office building where I could meet a man.

What the fuck is that?

My professional future, my writing future, my finances, my health, are all about to be affected and I'm thinking about dating? Clearly I am very, very lonely.

Part of me wants to believe that this is some kind of sign that I'm going to finally meet someone but part of me thinks that a new company isn't the answer. Because I'm just the same fucked up person in a new place.

So I'm Writing... Porn

In the last two weeks I've completed exactly two short stories. Both porn. I've got deadlines coming up for real projects that I'm at various stages with but instead of working on any of them I'm writing porn. What the hell is that?

I posted them on this website I belong to where readers can leave feedback and since I've posted I watch, obsessively, for the comments. I am desperate for compliments apparently.

Now today I called in sick to work and I'd like to get some "real" writing done but I hear the porn calling me. Is some kind of writing better than no writing? Or is this just another example of what a procrastinating, failure I am.

I'm Back... Hopefully

It's been eighteen months since I've posted to this blog and almost as long since I've even thought about it. I've made some progress in that time with my writing, with my life, but I've also struggled with some huge family problems and my depression.

I was brought back today though by something very specific and very simple: A bad day. Not bad because of anything that happened but more because of what didn't, more because of what it means is still wrong with me.

I had a very small agenda today: finish a short story, go to the gym and go to a Writer's Workshop. I did NONE of those things. Instead of writing when I woke up this morning, as scheduled, I read fanfiction online. When it was time to go to the gym I read porn. And then, shortly before I was supposed to get ready for the Writer's Workshop, I started cooking and other bullshit.

Now I am here in my house, isolated and lonely, still feeling trapped by depression, procrastination and agoraphobia. I am desperate to meet new people, other writers, but even that desperation was not enough motivation for me today.

I suppose I'm here, posting to my long abandoned blog, because I feel the need to tell someone that I'm disappointed in myself. I am still not who I want to be. And now I'm a year and a half older.