Friday, August 29, 2008

Positive

As part of the new me, I'm trying to be as upbeat as possible. It's difficult for me; it's contrary to my nature. It's also fragile.

It takes me a great deal of time to shake off anger. I hate it when that emotion happens anymore. It used to be that anger was my main nature. Perhaps I'm mellowing with age. Perhaps I'm just becoming less volatile. Maybe I'm more apathetic?

Any way one looks at it, people thrive on misfortune (including me, alas). There's nothing like the gleeful vitriol of schadenfreude. Nothing compares to juicy, malicious gossip. The height of anyone's day is the minor and major misfortunes that we can backbite about. Remaining above all of that distastefulness is challenging to say the least. Next of kin to impossible would be a nearer sentiment.

But I'm trying. I try to spar good-naturedly with my peers at work without being mean. I try to tow the company line. I endeavor to keep from sinking into the unhappiness on the other end of my phone each time it whisper-tones in my ear.

I try to think of innovative things to help out. I concentrate to formulate new stories. I fight against the entropy that has swallowed my creativity for a year or more. Sometimes I think that I might win.

I'm a compulsive doodler, and some of my calligraphic noodlings are quite attractive to me. Every one of them for the last four years has gone to the shredder. It only occurred to me this week that I could take one of the many little journals that Steve has thoughtfully gifted unto me and doodle into it, creating a little treasure book of silly, nonsensical, alphabet-like glyphs and sketches.

I have had a couple of new story ideas surface and I'm building the details slowly in my head. In addition, I want to recreate The Empty Space as an actual handwritten artifact and then incorporate it into a third-person narrative.

I want to make my real life (as opposed to my "career") the showpiece of my existence like it used to be, only without the alcohol abuse. I want to build a legacy for my daughter and joy for myself.

Good lord! Who the hell am I?

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