So, I have always been an overthinker. Even when I was about six or seven and attended the awful Sullivan elementary school in Philadelphia (a lot of schools in Philly look more like prisons) confined to gloomy hallways and blinding classrooms, my mind was racing. It was dark and freaking gruesome like some medieval castle from a Dracula movie. All the kids were brats, the teachers were mean and that one time I threw up my recess Original Flavor Slim Jim in my favorite phonics book just about did it for me.
Somewhere along the way, I started to fret about this crap. Like, weird thoughts would just get in my mind and then they’d kind of just hang around like vagrant inhabitants of an abandoned building. There was a time when I thought if I dropped the milk cap on the floor that it was better for it to land open side down so dust wouldn’t get in the inside. You know, because mounds of dust fall from the air in split seconds just to cake the inside of milk caps.
I felt like a weirdo since I was small but since it was the ’70s, there was nothing that could or would be done about it. We weren’t rich, we didn’t live in New York City and mostly, no one noticed that I was weird. I just felt weird.
That is probably the number one reason I started writing… to get rid of the weirdness. Despite all my writing over the years (I once locked myself inside my apartment for a weekend with cigarettes, liquor, and a computer to write out one hundred and thirty poems in less than 48 hours) I have only been officially published once – one stinking poem. All my stuff gets rejected. Maybe it isn’t good enough, maybe it is too weird, maybe it just ‘isn’t a good fit.’
I don’t know.
Then, like yesterday into today, I get down on myself when those icky, negative thoughts of self-doubt inhabit my mind. Ugh. I cry and yell at myself. “Why am I wasting my time? I am just not good enough.”
I submitted a piece for an anthology about shame and it got rejected. Everything I submit gets rejected. Do I need to add a whole bunch of fluffy bullshit to my prose to get people interested? Do I need to be fake? I don’t want to be fake… being fake led me down a drunken path and I’m not doing it.
Anyway, since it was rejected, I will submit it somewhere else and see where it goes. And if it goes nowhere a couple more times, I’ll just post it here and let you all read it. I also submitted a query for the novel so I am waiting on word from that publisher.
Happy Friday everyone! Today is your day to shine.
Happy 2017 Eclipse, everyone. Don’t stare at the sun. I’m not sure if you’ll really go blind, but I don’t think it is a good idea, regardless. Keep your pets indoors (though, I don’t think animals like to look at the sun?) and just be smart about it.
Stephen King wrote two books that take place during an eclipse. I thought he wrote a short story, too. I could be wrong.
Anyway, I think a solar eclipse is a great time to meditate, maybe go into a trance state and really get to the nitty gritty of your conscious.
I am at work, sick as a sick dog, but my boss said I could go to the park and check it out. His wife gave me eclipse glasses.
Sharing my story openly and honestly about living, surviving and thriving with Bipolar 1 Disorder and PTSD to increase awareness, educate, reduce stigma, prevent suicide, inspire, give hope and let God's love shine through me and touch you...