Housecleaning

This is just a quick update. There won't be much blogging this week since I'm currently writing my Fraggle ass off. Sheesh... and I just wanted to do this in about 20,000 words (we are now at 27,000 and not done). Ah well, we write until it's finished and then it's finished. No revisions. No corrections. Once the last word is "published," I'll be abandoning the Fraggle romance genre to do something else.

I'm guessing 2011 will be another rebuilding year. I have a lot of those. Most of next month, I'll probably work on my old book and get ready to send it forth all sparkly and new in February. I'm still not ready to go back to my snakehandler story. Maybe sometime in February, while I'm anticipating the rejection letters and hoping for just one "yes" I'll pick that back up --or maybe not.

So far, my list of resolutions and plans for 2011 is staying pretty modest. Part of me has lost the will to give a shit. I'll keep going to the gym because I like to and because it feels good. However, I'm not making a lot of plans to travel or do things because that never works out. I really don't want to deal with the disappointment that comes at the end of twelve months when I look back at another year spent penned in my cubicle.

I'll continue to go to the library and take chances on different topics, different authors and if they dazzle me, great, but I'll still read a fair share of comic books.

I'm not making plans to make more money because one of the great truths of my existence is there is a very specific sort of thing that happens when I make even a little more money: new expenses crop up just as soon as I start earning even a dollar or two more. It's like fucking magic.

It is my lot to remain broke. The daycare center will always raise their rates just when I get a raise at work. My car will always break down and cost me $200 when I have $100 in my savings account. I will always be behind on the bills no matter how many weeks I go without taking a day off. There will never be enough money and every purchase over six bucks will come with a cold feeling the size of a grapefruit in the pit of my stomach.

This is my fate.

Still, I am going to follow my bliss, chase the things that make me happy, which is what I do already. I'm not really expecting to be any happier than I am right now. I have reached my median range of joy and happiness. This is it. I must take joy in the conflict and the struggle because there is no goal line. There is no touchdown dance or thousands of screaming fans waiting at the end. There is no Superbowl ring.

I am meant to slog, to work until the second before I die and to repeat the same routine until I can practically see the future.