Yang Girly Girl

I’m not dead yet, not in the classical sense.

I would like to call it taking a respite, a sabbatical, or even a journey into retrospection.  Those are all acceptable terms and somewhat believable among whacked individuals, myself included.

Since I know I’m whacked, the above euphemisms only serve for a time.  If you repeat them often enough, even those that love you will start to raise their eyebrow, if they can, and give you the “look.”

That’s when you entertain the thought of a twelve step program for self-deluded, paralyzed, egomaniacs.  It always comes back to ego in the end.

“Oh, I don’t have time for all this because my unemployed friend came to live with me, and I volunteered for this self-improvement organization as a leader, i.e., Toastmasters, and the Universe is constantly bringing me things to do, like dye my roots, and plan healthy meals, fix all my children’s problems, cure my girth by wearing my husband’s clothes, thus looking svelte and quite chic, if you add a belt, and well, I just don’t have the space I need to write, and that book thing, and, and, and…”

Stephen King wrote Carrie  in the laundry room of his single wide trailer, sitting on a fold out chair with a lap tray underneath his typewriter. And though Carrie is not literary genius, it was written, published and became a commercial catalyst for King’s career.

Hemingway said, “Work every day, no matter what has happened the day or night before.  Get up every morning and bite the nail.”  For Hemingway, this may have meant throwing down a mai tai for breakfast and a highball for lunch, but regardless, writers WRITE.

I deduced I wasn’t a writer.  How could I be if I allow every banal thingamagoo to get in the way of WRITING?

That’s the problem with self-denial.  When you deny the one thing you were born to do, life becomes DAMN hard.  When you evade your sole purpose, that purpose bludgeons you at every turn, right in the middle of dying your roots, making tiramisu, or speaking to an audience about following their passions.   I’m sure I inspired them.

So, here’s the thing.   I got off my lazy ass.  I bucked up my buckaroo.  I’m letting the laundry pile up, the grass grow another five inches, and my eyebrows become a unibrow until my soul is nourished again with what it needs most…..WORDS.

This Yang Girly Girl will continue to write about chasing the light and getting real, but I will also offer a palate pleaser under a yet to be released domain  name.  Stay tuned.

As always, thank you for sharing this journey.