I really and truly love to write. As evidenced by the sudden upswing in posting, I’m in a bit of a “writing mood”. But there’s something else about this that’s niggling in the back of my head.
I hate myself. I hate myself for not writing more. I hate that I don’t take the time, the effort, to use my God-given talents with words and knowledge to bring something of value to the world. I hate my laziness.
And then I remember two little things.
First, most of the time, I don’t know what to write.
Second, I really shouldn’t hate myself.
So I try. I go on writing sprees. I sign up for NaNoWriMo. I start a new blog or reignite an old one. I try and think of things to write about. I let the words come and flow and spring forth from somewhere within my soul.
I still feel disappointed in myself though. I still want to do better, do more. But who knows. Maybe this spree is the start of something more lasting, more complete.
Maybe I’ll even write a book. I don’t know what about. I don’t really CARE what it will be about. I just want to write something, see my name in print, even if no one else reads it. It’s like directing. I got a degree in the field, I wanted to direct a show, and I did it. Maybe I don’t have a degree in writing (English was part of my degree at FUS though) but I want to do it. Maybe that will be enough.
Maybe I won’t have to be disappointed.
The first show I really stage managed (and I”ve currently stage managed eight shows in 4 years) was The Misanthrope. One of the very foppish characters writes a sonnet that focuses on the word “hope” and it’s about as far as he can get. One of my good friends played the role and did that part so amusingly that we tend to get into phases where we just go “HOPE!” and giggle a bit.
This past Friday, my dear hubby was laid off from his job. It’s not an unusual thing nowadays, especially not in Michigan. But it is exceptionally hard for us, as we were already struggling and were just accepted into the Michigan food stamp program anyway. As my mom said, we just can’t catch a break lately. In the last year we’ve had major car repairs, a car stolen/totalled, our apartment broken into, and now no income.
Frankly, I”m getting a little peeved at the Big Man up there. We know things aren’t going to be easy, but REALLY? Do we really need to have all this garbage happening? Can’t we just have a breather, please? I’m not very strong, I’m prone to depression and despair, the anti-thesis of hope. And maybe that’s where this all comes in. Maybe I’m just supposed to be learning “hope”. But it’s awfully hard, trust me.
My most recent stage management escapade ended yesterday, it was Annie Jr. And I’m sure you are much more familiar with this show and the song “Hard Knock Life”. Frankly, I think that’s our theme song right now. It’s a hard knock life, and it really feels like no one cares a smidge. But I guess I have to remember, the “sun will come out tomorrow” and in reference to my upcoming directing debut, It IS a wonderful life. Maybe I can’t hope to be adopted by a billionaire, and perhaps I won’t have all my aquaintances pitching in money to save the day, but I can hope that I might get a bit of a “Clarence” to help teach me these things. And maybe it’s just my conscience, my Jiminy Cricket, that I need to listen to, but somewhere, somewhow, I think God is trying to teach me about “HOPE!”.