I’ve been painting my toenails the color red since sometime in my 20’s. No particular shade except to say, on the dark side. LOL That makes me laugh. Being a clark and all, ya know, “dark side”? If you’re not a clark, can’t help ya. But you can go here.
Once upon a time a long time ago, putting on the new coat was infused with power. You see, in my mind, applying a new coat of red nail polish represented getting ready for “battle”. I removed the old polish, and readied my nails for the “new” polish. A metaphor for “watch out world, here I come“. A metaphor/coping tool/mind trick for yet another round of “I can do this“.
“I can do this”. Whatever the challenge. Small, insignificant, large, overwhelming… STOP! I know! My writing suffers from a lack of descriptive words. There’s an absence of adjectives and such that “real” writers, good ones, use to paint a word picture. Extra words that tantalize and cajole and make a reader want more. Words that capture their imagination.
OK. Whatever. Something I’ll work on? Up until now, the response would have been an enthusiastic “yes!“. Not so much at the moment. At the moment I’m struggling with clarklike things. I’m struggling with the realization of my own self, lack of self, lack of accomplishment, the languishing and the recognition of zero forward momentum. I’m smelling the stench of stagnation that sets in from residual effects of the backlash associated with massive timeline changes. And lastly, my body’s reminder that the life I face might have been different. Should have been different. Isn’t and can never be.
In my experience, epiphanies occur in 1 of 3 places: the bathroom (not very romantic, but damn, if it isn’t true), the car while driving (no amount of gas and road can take you where you want/need to be) and lastly, in bed just as you’re about to drift off to sleep. (think you can hide out in the unconscious?!) One of these epiphanies occured during Friday’s evening commute. Yeah, just what I needed while driving the Capital Beltway at 65 mph.
Last Friday’s evening commute reality bite? It’s too late. There comes a time in life when it’s “too late” to live your passion. For me, that discovery, realizing the one thing that made time stop, came late in life – early 30’s, maybe late 20’s. The one thing I could totally immerse myself in. “Sorry Girlie! Missed the exits. Veered a little too off course. No re-entry to the highway”. Runner up? Not bad. Hit the road, drifted a tad and then, as is often the case with my people, veered wildly off course. Damn. Now what? Another option. But oops! fucked that up too.
Blah, blah, blah. I’m done. 3 strikes! Yer out! I never thought about what it’d be like spending the rest of my life on the “bench”. Guess I’d best go grab me some Grizzly and try an figure that one out.