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poetryI am not writing much these days.  Could be the holidays, could be that they just changed my meds, or it is possible I simply have nothing to say.  Despite the fact that I have written two books that are simply waiting for the editing process to begin, I don’t consider writing a job…yet.

I hope that there will be a day when I have to see writing as a job; an enterprise that makes money.  I hope there comes a day when I force myself to sit in front of the computer whether I have anything to say or not.  I hope there comes a time when my voice is found in a story and not in the imaginations left alone in my mind.

I like the voices in my head. I like the stories that are within me, simply calling out to be heard.  Those voices are not yet yelling, they are not yet screaming.  The voices are still content to simply allow me to find my own time.

Again, the voices may be satisfied with the two stories that I have already written. Maybe the edge, the curve has gotten steadier now that I have written two works.  And let us not forget this blog and its ability to apply a band-aid on the compulsion to write my stories.

I find it strange that this little blog can be a band-aid on my compulsions. I find it odd that I can write for a couple of minutes each day and satisfy myself until the next day. The urge, the craving is only satisfied for minutes but it seems to get me through the day.

Today, in order to publish something, I literally had to begin typing and simply hope that by the end of this post there will be something worth reading.  I could be wrong.

How is it that our compulsions, our desires, our urges, our cravings can be satisfied for moments? How is that our soul knowingly understands that this simple post is a blip on the screen, and yet find satisfaction? Is it like pickles? Do I have a craving, eat one pickle and then am satisfied for months until the next craving comes along?

I like to write. I would even venture to say I love writing.  I don’t currently have a place to write that I feel is mine.  Some place comfortable and clean; a place that is my retreat.  But I have designed that space in my mind. Am I simply waiting for the design in my mind to become real before I am willing to push myself harder on my writing?

Or am I lazy? I am lazy about an awful lot of things…my home, my looks, even my to do list. I am not a procrastinator as much as a person that can literally convince herself that what she thinks she needs is nothing close to what is actually wanted. I am lazy because it is easy. I am lazy because the alternative is as boring as the laziness.

I don’t know where I am right now. I don’t know what I am currently going through. I know that I am tired. I know that I feel hurt and confused. I know that no matter how much I wish it were different my life is in a holding pattern.  And I know that at the end of the day there isn’t much I can do about life; at least not my life.

And I don’t say that because I am lazy. I say that because the truth is my life is in a pattern that I don’t yet have the power to change.  I know, I know. Millions of voices out there are currently yelling that I can change anything I want to change. This is not true.

Sometimes we simply have to wait. Wait for the voices to get louder, wait for the desires to get stronger and wait for the cravings to be satisfied. Sometimes the only thing that we can do is get up in the morning and go to sleep in the evening. Sometimes we can only picture what we want to change and wait for the time when the change will be acceptable. Sometimes the reality is that a simple quote about the power we each have is nothing but a series of letters that don’t mean anything.

Sometimes we simply have to wait.

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