Well, yesterday was weird and full of gluten free brownies and day dreams. Today I had my brain back until like 3:00 and then I self medicated with some Mountain Dew. I became the entertainer, especially when I discovered 15 minutes before I left work that my pants had been on backwards since breakfast. It takes talent to wear a pair of pants backwards all day. I just thought I had gained a lot of weight from the brownies I had eaten the day before. Ummm Brownies
Does it matter what someone thinks of me twenty, twenty-five, thirty years later? That’s what I wondered on my way to work this morning, Our team is doing overtime so there’s no time in the morning for morning pages. SO I try to make up for it by thinking hard on the way to work. This morning I thought about the dream I had last night.
In real life I "kept up" with everyone from the museum that I wanted to, We run into each other or leave notes on facebook etc; except one of the guys. In my dream, we met up again, twenty years later and he didn’t have any idea who I was, he hadn’t remembered me. I shrugged said "that’s ok" and walked away.
That nonchalant-ness and the processing I did over night made me think about yesterdays statement: That I wanted to look at people and say I survived. And that in a little while I’ll be a successful writer, just wait and see…
Does it matter what “they” think? Am I still living to prove my artistic value to someone else? Or is showing myself off a way to prove what I’ve created over the last 20 years “writing myself out of depression?”
I feel like I achieved it and am on my way to being stable and healthy.
I don’t have to worry about showing the doubters or the haters and part of me. Right now I need to just keep going and doing what I do best. Write and sing and work myself into something successful. Write myself into being and important writer to me and soon my friends.