When the Universe Has to Bitch Slap You, You'd Better Listen

My head has been in a weird place lately. I've been really unhappy at work, which I blame on the rock bottom moral, brought about by pay cuts and everyone walking around praying that it's the other guy getting the axe next. I tried to take a proactive approach, doing mass mailings, trying to stir up some business.

The jury's still out on whether that's going to produce anything. It takes FOREVER for snail mail to get to Canada for some reason. I mean.. it's right UP THERE.. it shouldn't take any longer than it takes to get crap to the west coast.. but I digress...

Anywho.. I've been struggling too with my feelings of animosity towards Bubbles. I don't like being in a state of constant anger and aggravation.. and it can't be healthy spending the better part of eight hours, four days a week, silently plotting her demise.

For the past year or so.. heck maybe two.. I've been trying different avenues for making money online in the hopes that someday I can walk away from the Asylum, Bubbles and all the aggravation therein. I've hosted ads for everything from plus sized clothing to cell phones and I wrote really shitty posts for "PayPerPost," resulting in a loss of readers and almost killing my beloved blog. More recently I made an attempt at a CafePress shop and I could have made it work, other than one very small complication..

I really, really suck at Photshop.

I mean, I try.. but it takes me days to crank out one design. I have LOTS of great ideas, but making them appear as I'd like on the screen in front of me results in alot of cussing, the occasional hurling of household objects and the Amazon threatening to outfit the dogs in pith helmets, lest they get injured in the fallout.

I had planned to work on a new design yesterday morning. I sat on the couch, looking across the room at the computer with such a sense of dread, knowing it was going to be a huge pain in my keister. I thought... surely to God there's something I can do that I won't dread this much.

I mentioned the other day that I'd been reading a book in the "Celestine Prophecy" series. I honestly believe everything happens for a reason and picking that book up at the library, helped me clear my mind. It's like I've been swimming against the tide and getting nowhere, when I know.. I know.. all I need to do is let go a little.

I decided, sitting there on the couch yesterday morning, that I needed to figure out something else to do. I took a deep breath... I mindlessly picked up the television remote and started flipping. I stopped on "Iconoclasts," the sight of Desmond Tutu splashing in a pool with Richard Branson making me smile.

There? There were two guys who just seemed to have it all figured out.

Splashing in the pool, laughing.. giggling even, Tutu asked Branson what advice he would give a young man, just starting out. A man who wanted to be successful.

Branson said the money wasn't as important as doing something that gave you pleasure.

I thought about what he said.

"What's my passion?" I thought. "What do I really love doing?"

And man.. it was so simple.

This.

Telling stories, arranging letters in to words, weaving words in to sentences, making them flow in to stories that make people smile.. and more importantly.. make me smile.

This is what I've always loved.

So I thought about it more. I've toyed with the idea of writing a book before. When I tried, I got so caught up in doing research that I barely wrote a thing and gave up. I almost discounted it again... but I stopped myself. Instead of over thinking it, I decided I'd just sit with the idea and see what developed.

Sometime during all this, I posted here about cooking my hag hair and flashing the neighbors. I linked to the post on Plurk (and Twitter.. because I'm a self pimpin' ho like that) and went on about my business. About an hour later, I checked back on Plurk to see if there were any comments. There was one.

Someone who's Plurks I follow, but had never really talked to before, commented that they'd just spent the past hour reading through old posts on my blog, that she'd read some out loud, to who I assume was her significant other, and that they agreed, if I wasn't published.. I should be.

I told her I'd thought about it before, but wouldn't know where to start. I was thinking about outlines and research and working myself in to a big ass tizzy, when she said, "You can self publish on CafePress." Then she said, "A collection of short stories."

And it was like a light went off.. no.. it was like a giant bolt of lightening came down and bitch slapped some sense in to my dense ass.

I spent some time going through some of my old posts yesterday and realized just how many times people have commented, "You should write a book." I've gotten emails along the same lines, I've just never really thought I could be good enough.

But now? Now I think I'm going to try. I'm going to start compiling a collection of stories about Frog Pond Holler. I'm going to try not to repeat anything that I've already written here, except maybe that story about the vampire critters living in the wall when we lived out in the country.

Anywho... we'll see what happens. Ya'll keep your fingers crossed for me, kay?

Later Taters!


Click the pic to view the video.