Friday, June 21, 2013

A Rocky Road

Lately, I've been craving something that I just can't put my finger on. And I'm not talking about food. There's been an ache in my soul for a certain kind of book, and while a few of the ones I have read lately were good, they just weren't it.

I don't know what it is I want.
And I'm finding that's the case with a lot of things in my life.

When will there be a number two? (when talking about babies)
Where should we buy a house?
Do you want to go back to work?
What will you do when you're finished writing (insert book name here)?

There aren't a lot of things that are certain in my life, except for my family and my writing, and I tend to cling to those things like white on rice. In a way, it provides a sense of risk. I don't make plans; I live each day as it comes, kinda like how we live paycheck to paycheck. It could be bad, it could be a negative aspect in my life, but I refuse to let it become a hindrance. Instead, I think of it as an adventure. A wild ride. A rocky road.

So when asked if I intend to write full time, I laugh. I don't intend to do anything. If it becomes something that can provide for my family, awesome. If not, well, I'll write anyways. Because it's what I like to do. And, because, I feel like I'm good at it and it makes me feel like I've accomplished something academically.

If you would have known me four years ago, in the peak of my senior year, you would have thought that I'd be the one graduating and going to some awesome college and getting some super useful degree. I was good at school, good at learning and doing and all that stuff. I was the one who got good grades without trying. I applied to three schools and got into all of them. And when I chose Nova Southeastern University, the school my father went to, I had high hopes for my future as en English major.

But it didn't happen.

I hated it. I hated being away from my family and friends, I hated living on campus and I hated the fact that it was nothing like in the movies/books. I ended up leaving after three weeks and then began my journey through state college and sucky ass jobs.

Life didn't turn out how I thought it would, and I always felt the need to prove people wrong.

They said I was too young to get married.
They said we were too young to have a baby.
They said I needed to go back to school.

But I didn't know what I wanted, and school didn't seem to be my dream any longer, and so I started to write, and in doing so, I'd like to think that I proved those people wrong, too. I like to think that I made something of myself, as a wife, a mother, and a writer. Those are the things that define me, and sometimes I like to add to that list.

Maybe tomorrow I'll be a painter. (doubt it, since I'm a really bad painter)
Maybe I'll pick up piano again, and become a pianist.
Maybe I'll join an adult soccer league, and become a soccer player.

I do know that I intend to live my life like a story. I intend to grab onto those ohshit handles and hang on while riding down this rocky road. Maybe I'll never really find the book to satisfy that craving, but I'll never stop searching, and I'll most likely never know what it's like to be a best-selling author, but it will never change the fact that I am a writer.

In the long run, it won't matter that I didn't know what I wanted, only that I never stopped searching for it.

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