Hey guys. I was deeply shamed when I realized I haven't touched this site in almost a year. If I wasn't so nervous about sharp objects, I'd commit seppuku to atone for my terrible behavior.
I can hide behind excuses: Work took over my life, and I just didn't have the energy to write. I moved back home, which consisted of some of the worst days of my life, emotionally and physically. (Seriously, how in the hell did I manage to amass so much SHIT?) My car died a flamboyant death, and I was without transportation for two months. My parents do not have internet in the house. Let me repeat that: MY PARENTS DO NOT HAVE INTERNET.
But let's all be honest. I chose not to write because I don't think I'm that good. If I avoid writing, then I won't have to confront how potentially uninteresting/overly earnest/annoying/whatever it is. Writing is, in theory, supposed to be my future profession, but here I am, 26 years old, still serving food to people better off than myself and making total chump change. Writing is a niggling reminder of all my failed ambitions and dreams, and it represents a dark voice deep inside that says, "You will never be as good as so-and-so, you will forever be mediocre at everything you do." If I think I'm good at something, there is always someone that comes along that puts what I do to shame, and it's kind of hard to keep going when that's how you think about yourself.
Last year was pretty much total crap. I wasted a lot of time and effort for a selfish skinflint employer, put myself in all kinds of bad situations that led to me being not-so-affectionally known as the alcoholic, destroyed anything expensive I owned, and moved back to a place where I had almost no friends and few outlets to contact the ones I did have, when they weren't sick of listening to my whining about how hard and boring everything was. And to put the cherry on the shit sundae, every holiday was a painful reminder that I was still single and hanging out with my parents watching yet another Bridezilla marathon would be the highlight of my evenings.
This, my friends, is a new year, goddammit. I have transportation. I have a few friends. I'm essentially unemployed again, but this time I'm going to be getting some cash from the government, which, fingers crossed, will enable me to find a proper job. Maybe one that I'll like this time.
And, more importantly, I don't have any excuses not to update this thing on a bit of a regular schedule.
So. If anyone is still reading, or even if no one is, I'm going to start writing again. I might bring in some personal things, some anecdotes, maybe let you in on the wild and crazy goings-on in Asheville. We'll see.
For the time being, I just want to send out a heart-felt thank you to anyone who has ever told me they enjoy my writing. A lot of times I feel like no one does, but your reassurances that something that I do is worthwhile makes me want to soldier on, no matter how black the night or deep the sand I'm trudging through gets.