Book, memoir, series, story, whatever

The voice in my head keeps yelling at me to write. He's like this annoying super fan at a kids basketball game, standing on the bleachers, yelling shit at an awfully high decibel. Yeah, I've given the voice in my head a gender for some very odd reason. Maybe it is just natural to think that way being as old as I am. Every time I finish a book, he gets up and yells, "why the hell did you put those huge nails on?! You know you can't type with those!" He totally forgot the part about telling me to write. So, I ignore the rude remark about my fabulous claws and sit down with my journal. I write about my day. as mundane as that sounds. It's so routine and lacks that voice that my fingers are so adept at portraying on a keyboard. What will people think reading that when I'm dead and gone? "No wonder she was bat shit crazy. She was bored out of her fucking mind."

Life moves at varying paces that change daily and even sometimes by the hour. This past month has been a struggle, but one that I have survived with a few badges and renewed sense of my goals. Remember when I wanted so badly to work for a nonprofit? I loved every part of volunteer work. I loved seeing how what I did helped people in my community. I loved having my kids volunteer with me and seeing the experience it gave them. The next best thing for me was to work at my kids school and be on the PTO and start an athletics booster and coordinate subsidies for field trips. I loved every minute I was at the school. I loathed my body for days I couldn't be there and had to be home in bed dealing with things I still don't want to deal with. Now, I still have days in bed loathing my pain, but now I have something to work towards. A door has opened for me and I ran through it with an open heart and open arms. 

Life is so much better when you surround yourself with the right people. I never thought of myself as a small business owner. Up until recently, I just thought I was doing something I loved and sharing my art with the world. Wow, I just realized the catharsis of saying that, or, writing that. I've built up so much fear in my head that has been released by reminding myself that I'm sharing a part of me with people I don't know. That sounds so much better than labeling myself a small business owner. But, back to the people. The right people support me and encourage me to keep doing what I love to do. The share their ideas with me and collaborate with me. It feels so good to do something I love and have people feeding that love. Fuck, I'm sappy as hell now. These last few sentences feel so pedestrian. But, it's true. It's all true. My heart has been filled with holes again and again and now they are slowly being filled with new kinds of love. That sounds more like what I'm trying to say. 

Life has me still wanting to write. So, I'll continue to write. Maybe in journals, maybe in blogs. Maybe my jewelry is an extension of the words that I try to lay straight like a line of beads awaiting some stretch cord and a knot. My life is both dark and colorful, much like the words on pages or the beads tucked away in their color-coded boxes. One day I'll collect all the words like stray beads and put them together to tell my story. I'll get to bare the physical pain and the emotional joy and it'll be all mine until I realize that you've read it too and many others will peruse the chapters in a bookstore. Will those even exist in the future?

I've crafted enough for the day. For the days. It's taken a while to finish this and I still don't think I've said the things that I've set out to say. It doesn't matter. I don't think anyone reads this anyway.