Life is weird. Especially for me. I wish I had all the answers but I don’t. Instead I have to pick what I think may or may not be the best for me. More often than not I end up having made the wrong choice. Yet I feel that this end result is common for most people. No one knows where they will end up. One just prays they’ve made the right one. 

I mentioned in another post that I’ve given up on trying to be a writer. It only seemed logical since I have written nothing new in some time, nor have I attempted to edit my novel in even longer. Plus when I look back on just what I’ve written here I cringe. I suck at it. I’m rusty and in the amount of time my mind demands of me to be done I will end up just disappointing myself. I had always thought that I would be a writer, the kind published in paperbacks and put onto a shelf. However that isn’t going to happen. I don’t seem to be as dedicated to that plan as I thought. Or I’m just fucking lazy and don’t want to attempt it without being astounding from the start. 

I blame a lot of my failures on my husband. I say that he manipulated me into this or that but in reality we are all responsible for our own choices. He may or may not have broken me down over time to be a good little earth minion, but ultimately it’s my decisions that make my life. 

All of this comes to mind because I spoke with a good friend of mine from SAA. He brought up how his kids went for their dreams and became the master of their crafts without having a “back-up plan”, where I have done he opposite. It made me wonder if my husband has somehow stifled my creativity because he doesn’t see it as being viable or a financially stable choice. On one hand it rings true but I have to wonder if I’m just making excuses for my own failures. That is why I remind myself over and over that “we are the master of our destiny.” In reality we are not. We can only attempt to fulfill some glass ball fortune. Otherwise it’s all about luck. I’m afraid I have none…

It’s strange though that I have given up but yet I have written more in the past weeks than in two or three years. Insane. It brings to mind the thing my psych professor said that artistic people have to make their art. They will go crazy if they do not. In one way or another it will manifest itself from their efforts by any means necessary. I like to think that I am that kind of person, but I know that I am nothing extraordinary. I am nothing if not plain and dull, longing to be something more than just. 

I hate that my mind and body (and life) realized so much on on two little pills. Laying on top of each other, behind that orange plastic, they don’t look like anything much. Just from looks, they’re as useless as a box of tic-tacs. (Btw it took me five tries just to type tacs.) if I don’t take them I’m basically on edge at all times and unpredictable. Just the panic at the thought of the possibilities of what might happen if I don’t take these insignificant compressed powders, is reason enough. Yet, I fight the process. In some messed up part of my brain comes the message that by taking them I am weak. I am somehow less than human. That I am broken. 

Just a week ago I admitted to myself that I’m not a writer, nor do I want to be one. It took me. Long time to realize that fact. I’ve fought with it for some time and finally I broke. The one thing that makes one a writer is to do just that, write. Mouthing the words and having the best of intentions doesn’t make one a literary elite. 

I’ve been plotting, planning, revising a work of fiction since 2010 when I completed the first draft of the manuscript. However with all of that I did very little work. Inevitably I ended up frustrated when I even attempted because at that point I had put so much pressure on myself to accomplish my goal. My life began to unravel and one expectation after another weighed me down until I begAn to make bad decisions. After realizing that fact I knew what I had to do.  I gave up and admitted defeat. 

The funny thing is, I’ve probably written more in the past week than I have since 2010. So, who fucking knows. However what I do understand is I am not a writer. I’m not going to be one and I do not want to.

For reasons I cannot explain I am searching for a faith. Being raised Christian I cannot and will not return to it, due to those that use it in the name of cruelty. For a brief moment I researched Druidism but found that my preconceived notions of it were all wrong. Basically it was a rehash of Wiccan and that is most certainly not for me. Now I am looking into Buddhism by way of a book titled “The Dharma of Star Wars.” 

My husbands scoffs that it’s a joke and I shouldn’t be choosing a faith off of a fictitious group of people. While he is right he is also wrong. What the book does is give comparisons to create understanding for a faith that may be difficult to understand. So far I am intrigued and while I love Star Wars (a lot, btw) this dude overused the examples to a degree that I would rather him just discuss the theories and beliefs of Buddhism. It’s a fun read and only reaffirms my desire to investigate it further. 

I think my desire for faith comes from the step I am currently working on in sex addicts anonymous. I’m currently on 2 and have been there for some time. It’s the one where you find a higher power. Like I said previously Christianity left a sour taste in my mouth and I will never return. Along with the faith is the Christian God. The lack of any real higher power working more closely with the world proves to me that there isn’t one. However to continue in the program I need a higher power. For lack of one I have chosen the energy of the earth/universe/life that is a form far beyond my comprehension that doesn’t deal with man directly because we do not operate on the same level. After doing the worksheet my sponsor gave me I came to this very conclusion. To further the distance between the higher power of my understanding and the God of my youth, I think the higher power I’ve chosen has no form or gender. It is everything and everywhere. Jokingly I refer to it as “the force” because that’s what it feels like I am describing. That is why I think I am drawn to Buddhism and discovering the book only reaffirms that notion.