1. I love music. It is as important to me as breathing. Anyone that knows me must know at least this one thing about me. And yet, I cannot get one freaking person to accompany me to a concert. Not one! And it doesn’t even matter who the artist is at this point. No one’s willing regardless. The only people who might be interested or at least act interested in going live out of state. How is it possible that I know no one within a reasonable distance that wants to go to a concert with me? Even if they don’t love the music, is the idea of attending something with me really all that appalling? Am I honestly that pathetic? I will be missing both the Arctic Monkeys concert and Dance Gavin Dance concerts coming up and I’m not sure whether to be pissed, upset, or both.
2. My truck died. Okay, well it’s not entirely dead, but driving it anymore is putting my own life at risk for the brakes only stop now whenever they choose to (which isn’t often). This makes driving scary as hell. The item causing this issue costs on the upward of $500 bucks and while that could be a manageable repair cost, it is not the only malfunction my truck is currently experiencing. I suppose with it being 10 years old now and being minimally maintained over the years, I shouldn’t expect so much of it, but I’m not ready to buy a new vehicle! I’m not prepared for an additional bill every month. I barely get by as it is. It also doesn’t help that I have a serious aversion to change, of any sort. I mean ideally, I’d LOVE a new vehicle – something shiny and pretty and more modern, but knowing I have to is making me freak out. Mom is currently letting me driver her truck, but I imagine this new vehicle purchase will be happening within the week. I’m just praying it happens with ease.
3. I haven’t written in…? It was so long ago I don’t even know when now. It might be an easier pill to swallow if new ideas were still bombarding me or if my characters were still up there toying around with new story lines, but it’s all gone. I’ve had very minimal creative activity occur lately and it’s making me feel insane. Of the moments I’ve actually had time to write I sat there with a pencil and paper and a blank page continued to stare back at me. Randomly strange lines from sporadic stories will pop into my head, but nothing of substance or that even fits in a particular place. I’m attempting to write a Halloween Short Story like I did last year, but who knows if that will even happen. It’s a story I’ve known for years, one that used to be a script so it shouldn’t be all that hard, but there is seriously some sort of disconnect from my brain to my fingers these days. It’s an awful feeling with every day that passes thinking: Maybe I’m not a writer after all.
4. I don’t read books anymore. Or at least I haven’t in months now. And it’s not that there aren’t books in my possession that I really want to read because there are (so many of them), I just feel zero drive for it. Like focusing enough to make it past a few pages and retaining what I’ve read feels like an impossible feat. Sigh. What is happening to me?
Okay, I could go on, but I’m getting annoyed by my own rant so if there is actually anyone reading this you’re definitely done hearing me bitch.
Peace – Sarah