On Life and What I've Been Up to Creatively Lately

Original Image by Shannon Hilson via Midjourney

I swear I don't know where the damn time goes when it comes to these blogs I still like to tell myself I maintain. I'll realize it's been a while since my last update, but when I finally make it over to the platform to type something up, I'll see it's actually been... like... months. So long in some cases that the entire posting interface is totally different, as is apparently the case with Blogger today.

I know I keep saying this, and I'll say it again (to whatever audience I still have left or might have at any point in the future). Don't take breaks when it comes to your personal writing. I don't care how many awesome clients want to pay you good money for your time, expertise, and labor. A week off so easily turns into a month, and that so easily turns into several months. Before you know it, you're back to wondering whether you even know how to write a decent blog post anymore and unsure of where to start figuring it out.

Instead, treat whatever type of writing you want to make sure you keep doing -- blogging, newsletters, journaling, fiction, poetry, fortune cookie sayings, what have you -- with the same seriousness you would your paying freelance work. Try not to worry too much about whether it makes you money because God knows that's my problem. I have a tendency to spend my time and writing energy wherever the money is at any given time, but self-expression is crucial, too, which you'll realize if you neglect it long enough.

On Clients and Freelance Work

My original reason for taking a bit of a break from blogging and other types of writing (with the exception of the private journaling I do for the sake of my sanity and the creative writing I pump out every year during NaNoWriMo) was an abundance of well-paying freelance work that fell in my lap. It was mostly thanks to one client for whom I loved writing and still enjoy writing. But they've been revamping some things on their end lately.

Some of the revamps had to do with their reimagining their SEO strategy, which meant the blog project they had me working on became less of a priority. They're also going through some staffing changes. The editor I'd gotten to know and had been working with this entire time left last Friday, and I was honestly pretty bummed about that, as I genuinely liked the guy and enjoyed working with him. 

I don't yet know the new editor or her vision for that blog moving forward, and they're likely still figuring it out themselves. But for the immediate moment, I don't have a ton to do as far as assignments from that company go. That leaves me with a little free time on my hands after I'm done seeing to my other regulars. It feels weird to have time again, but I'm going to see if I can't use it to reestablish some sort of regular writing habit here.

On Feeling Like the Ghost of a Blogger and a Life Update

Anthony Hopkins and Emma Thompson in Howards End (1992)

So a word to the wise aspiring writer. Don't take breaks from any of the things you're out there doing to build your brand and get your name around. A little break can so easily turn into a long one, and before you know it, you've lost a lot of the progress you made over all those months you worked so hard. I feel a little thin right now -- like the ghost of a blogger -- and I'm not sure I like it.

Today was the first day in a long while when I haven't needed to spend my entire productive day working on freelance assignments, so I've been attempting to catch up on things like Medium posts, items on my personal to-do list, and social media tasks. Coming back and posting something new to Medium especially felt really weird, and it's clear that I've got my work cut out for me as far as getting my traffic back up where it used to be. The single-digit views on that poor article from earlier were depressing, to say the least.

It felt really good to actually write something for myself again besides entries to my private journal that no one has access to but me, though. It was also nice to spend some time on video lectures, umpteenth watchings of old beloved movies like Howards End, and a little bit of pleasure reading, to boot. (I'm currently reading Their Eyes Were Watching God.) I need more little pockets of time like the ones I enjoyed today, and today was a valuable reminder of that. 

I wasn't going to take a long weekend for President's Day, as I was worried about falling behind at work. But most of my clients are taking it, so I don't have much on my plate right now and may as well take an extra day off, too. When I mentioned that to Seth, he said I need to take better advantage of working for myself and enjoy the same holidays everyone else gets. When he's right, he's right.

The World Has Officially Become Strange in My Absence

I went out the other day. And I don't just mean outside for some fresh air, either. I literally masked up, got in an Uber, and ran an errand before Ubering back home. I've voluntarily done almost everything I need to from home for years at this point, so up until now, I've been able to stay the hell away from the outside world without changing much about my routine. And honestly, I would have been happy to continue that way indefinitely, but I needed to get a new ID and couldn't avoid visiting a DMV field office in person.

The DMV errand went just fine, but holy shit, has the world ever gotten weird in my absence. I'm, of course, well aware of how things have changed since the last time I was out frolicking around, never even having heard of COVID before. I knew what to expect in every way. But this was my first time seeing it all with my actual eyes and experiencing it in person. Seth came with me and also hasn't been out since the pandemic began, so I at least wasn't alone when it came to the perceived weirdness of it all.

It's one thing to know everyone masks up and social distances now, pretty much as a rule. It's another thing to actually visit places I've been to plenty of times before and see people doing it. It was a strangely similar experience to nightmares I've had in the past. In these nightmares, I'd visit places I either knew very well or had found very comforting in the past, but something vital would be wrong with them, suggesting it only looked like I was where I was supposed to be. 

My sense of direction has always been terrible, so getting lost was one of my most persistent childhood fears. When I'm anxious, I still dream about it in various contexts, especially those that suggest I might just have to stay lost forever. So seeing definitive proof that COVID really has touched my town -- the place where I grew up and have lived off and on for most of my life -- was a little strange. I can actually kind of see why so many people have so much trouble accepting this reality and choose to deny it altogether because they don't know what else to do.

Yes, My Communication Skills Need Work

Isolation Communication - Charles Luna

So, one thing I've been desperately trying to work on lately is being less of a trash-hole human as far as communication goes, particularly online. I am notoriously horrible at it and have been my entire life. Part of that is probably a spectrum thing, as I just kind of shut down socially and isolate more when I've been letting comments on Medium or on social media back up too far without responses. The rest of it is often either a time thing or a genuine lack of knowledge about what to say in response.

So, I guess what I'm getting at is that if you're a reader who's ever reached out to me over email, on Medium, or via any of my social media channels and didn't get a response, it doesn't mean I didn't see it or deliberately chose to ignore it. I likely read it right away through my notification emails, meant to get back to you some other time, and then spaced it entirely. Or I could just be taking my sweet time, which I sometimes do. I often have a lot on my plate -- so much that I occasionally have to pull back temporarily from blogging and social media altogether -- and it can take me a while to circle back to things like answering comments. 

Seriously, the only time I deliberately ghost communications from a reader altogether is if they were rude or trollish. So, if you're not an asshole who went out of your way to try to ruin my day because you don't like my stupid face or something, know that I appreciate you and your response. Even if I never wound up getting back to you because I took so long about it that responding started to seem "weird". Don't let my overblown sense of self-confidence fool you. I'm a master overthinker, and that gets me into trouble sometimes.

On Summer Weather I Can Actually Enjoy for a Change

I almost don't dare speak of it "out loud", even online, because I don't want to jinx anything. But it's been unseasonably cool out here these days. Typically, we'd be frying to death out here, especially considering how awful the climate's gotten over the past few years. That's certainly what's been happening to my friends in Southern Cal and upstate, as well as up in Washington and Oregon -- long-lasting heat waves and ridiculous temperatures well above 100 degrees. 

To be honest, I'm shocked that we're not getting the same, but I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, either. I'm sorry for everyone else, but I'm exceedingly grateful not to be dealing with the same. We've been happily making the most of fantastic weather that's been pretty much perfect -- cool and even cloudy for the most part. It even rained a couple of times, which is always welcome this time of year. I'm not interested in a repeat of last year's god-awful wildfire situation.

We've still been enjoying all of our wonderful al fresco meals just about every night, as well. However, we've also (somehow) developed a new interest in playing old-school games at the table for a little while after we've finished eating. So far, we've mostly been playing Uno, but we've been having so much fun, we want to learn more games soon. Interestingly, that's just hilarious to me, as I've always thought card games, board games, and that sort of thing sounded like the lamest thing to want to do with your time. You'd think by now I'd have internalized "don't knock it 'til you try it" a little better. 

I've Realized I'm a Happy Person at Heart

That's not something I would have been able to say about myself for most of my life. I spent years of my life thinking about what was wrong with the world, judging people who didn't live the way I thought they should and obsessing over the ways I didn't think my own life measured up to the status quo. But I've noticed things have been different for me lately.

It's not that my life changed. I still have the vast majority of the problems I had before and could well be stuck with some of them for the foreseeable future. I just have a better attitude than I used to. Some of that seemed to come with age, but the rest really was about a simple perspective change. It's a change I'm grateful for, as life is just better this way. After all, I only get one of those... a life. I don't really want to waste mine griping, complaining, and judging. 

Life's never going to be fucking perfect.

I used to think that I couldn't be happy until I got specific details of my life in line. When I was an awkward teenager, I thought being prettier would do it. Later on, I thought meeting someone would be the answer. Or finding a way to run a business out of my home so I wouldn't have to spend so much of my time at an office or behind a cash register somewhere. Then I met someone, got married, and still wasn't happy with my love life, so I got a divorce and started daydreaming about the day I'd meet someone better. Once I had a business, I wanted a better one doing more exciting work. 

There's always going to be something else -- some other part of your life that downright sucks or something monumental you finally achieve only to realize your life still isn't the way you want it. And the vast majority of those solutions you thought were going to solve all your problems come with brand new issues of their own. If you wait to allow yourself any measure of happiness or contentment until everything's perfect, you're going to be waiting until you drop dead.

On Vaccine Availability and Coronavirus Anxiety

A few days ago, California officially opened up the availability of the coronavirus vaccine to everyone over the age of 16. That means Seth and I can, in theory, go and get ourselves vaccinated as soon as I can get us appointments. In actuality, though, we will probably be waiting at least a little while for some of the rush to die down a bit. The fewer people we have to be around to get this done, the better.

Before the pandemic hit, it had already been many years since I went out regularly. I don't drive or like being around people, so it's almost always easier to stay home and order the things I need online while running my business and handling my other responsibilities around the house. Strangely, though, I never developed any real anxiety about being out in public. If I felt like it, I could easily head out to the county fair, or the beach, or something, have a great time, and probably even want to go back the next day. 

I feel entirely differently about all that today for obvious reasons. Now, when I see other people, I no longer see minorly annoying fellow humans that might -- at worst -- try to suck me into a boring conversation I don't really want to have. I see walking, talking meat-bags filled with germs and death that can absolutely kill me, especially if they're not masked up properly. And I feel like the outside world has become a dangerous place I'm best off avoiding. I'm not embarrassed to admit that I find the idea of getting COVID (or seeing anyone I care about get it) positively terrifying.

In other words, while I'm grateful to be able to have access to a vaccine, I'm hyper-aware of the fact that to get vaccinated in the first place, I will first have to go out unvaccinated into that big, bad world filled with walking, talking germ bags at least twice. And so will Seth. Naturally, I have a lot of anxiety about that on both counts, especially when it comes to Seth. I still have nightmares about the time he almost died in the hospital of pneumonia years ago. I also realize I'm far more worried about him getting sick and leaving me all alone in the world than I am about getting sick myself, although that would also suck.

On Lana Del Rey and the Beauty of Melancholy

So, Lana Del Rey dropped a new album a few days ago -- Chemtrails Over the Country Club. I've been listening to it quite a lot since, as well as revisiting some of Lana's other music. I've also been having some interesting thoughts about music in general, the role it's played throughout my life, and the effects it has on me still. 

Lana Del Rey's music occupies a strange category for me. It evokes strong feelings of nostalgia and reminds me of all kinds of things despite not also being music I grew up listening to. 

She wasn't even around as an artist when I was still growing up, as she would have been just a child herself. However, her style as an artist and much of the imagery in her music reminds me of how I felt, thought, and took up space in the world way back then. The fact that the beach and many references to life in California come up often in her music underscores all this even further.

When I was young, I had so many strong emotions. Many of them were difficult, dark, and consuming -- like longing, melancholy, and restlessness. Life was difficult for me as a young person, and it took me until I was in my 20s to start coming into my own. But I had an incredibly rich fantasy life at that age, as well. I was always obsessed with some boy I knew, or occasionally I'd construct elaborate fantasies around actors (and even fictional characters) I found objectively attractive. I'd daydream about what I'd be like when I was older -- painfully, sorrowfully beautiful and, of course, so very deep -- as well as all the tumultuous, passionate romances I was sure I would one day have. 

One of my favorite things to do was indulge in these fantasies and wonder what my life would eventually be like while listening to music. If I could be outside taking up space in some beautiful setting while I did it, so much the better. I especially loved going on long nature walks, hanging out on the beach while watching the waves, and spacing out in the passenger seat on long road trips while watching the world go by. I never felt very connected to my family, my friends, or most of the men I dated when I was in my teens and early-mid 20s, so maintaining this sort of rich inner life seemed to fulfill some of the needs those relationships didn't. 

On Turning Forty-Fucking-Five

So, it's my birthday tomorrow. I'm hoping it's a vast improvement on last year's, and so far, so good. As I'm sure everyone remembers all too well, right about this time last year, COVID officially reached pandemic status. Everyone was panic-buying toilet paper, pasta, beans, and just about anything else they could get their hands on. And, like everyone else, I was having terrible trouble even wrapping my mind around the fact that we were facing a fucking plague of biblical proportions.

Unfortunately for us, we were almost entirely out of food at the time, as I was waiting until closer to my birthday to do some shopping. That turned out to be a huge mistake, as none of the stores had a damn thing left. Not even a can of beans or a package of hamburger, let alone the lobster ravioli and pesto sauce I wanted for my birthday dinner or the corned beef I wanted for St. Patrick's Day. I somehow managed to score a lemon bundt cake for dessert, but that's all, and the pickings stayed pretty slim around here for a while.

I've been hyper-paranoid about running out of food ever since. I was never someone who believed the fridge and pantry had to be stuffed as full as possible to feel like there was enough to eat, but now I totally am. I'm still careful not to waste food and to make sure everything gets eaten promptly, but I grocery shop every week now, whether we really need it or not. I'm also extra-prepared this year for all our upcoming festivities. I have a heritage-breed ham and a corned beef hanging out in the freezer for Easter and St. Patrick's Day, respectively. And you bet your ass I have that lobster ravioli and fresh pesto I didn't get last year in the fridge already.

I'm turning 45 this year, which just feels plain odd. I still think of 45 as my parents' age, even though they're both well into their 70s by now. I've loved being in my 40s for the most part, though. I'm saner, more grounded, and more grateful at this age by a landslide. I actually stick with things that I start now -- positive things like daily exercise, balanced eating, productive writing routines, and regular quality time spent with my husband. I feel dangerously close to being one of those people who have their shit together, and it's a nice feeling after being so restless and undisciplined most of my life. 

Soul-Tired on a Friday

I'm so glad it's Friday. I've been dog-tired this week -- the kind of tired that isn't just physical. It's soul-tired, and as is often the case with me, I couldn't really say for sure why I feel this way. There's nothing crazy going on in my personal life. I'm not overworked, burnt out, or frustrated with any of my clients right now. My brain appears to be chewing on something, though, even if it's just doing that weird thing it does and chewing on itself.

One way I know this is the positively bizarre dreams I've been having at night. They don't make much sense, but they come with intense emotions that don't fit the dreams' events whatsoever. For instance, the other night, I was dreaming about a bunch of young priests eating mashed potatoes on a bus. Something about this scanned as very ominous and was giving me horrible anxiety. And then some of them started putting gravy on the mashed potatoes, which was apparently such cause for alarm that I woke myself up out of a sound sleep. Hopefully, I'll go back to sleeping well and having normal dreams soon.

Thankfully, I could kind of see the writing on the wall with my energy levels earlier in the week, so I decided not to fill my schedule but so full as I moved closer to the weekend. As a result, I don't have any freelancing obligations to take care of today and can focus on my own writing for a change -- one reason I'm updating this blog on a Friday instead of leaving it until some point over the weekend or even Monday. It's cloudy out, and I'm just sitting here in my nice, dark room vibing to some Taylor Swift -- not a bad way to end a week at all.

Down with January and Onward to February

 

Mercury retrograde really managed to sneak up on me this month, as I woke up this morning to a surprise notification from my favorite astrology app that it had started. (Yes, if you are not already aware, I'm into astrology, although I do like to think I'm pretty sensible about it.) I'm usually better about keeping on top of significant aspects, but I've been so scattered this month. Mercury retro would definitely explain why I've been having more trouble communicating lately, though. 

I've been feeling unusually talkative lately, so I've actually been tweeting and posting on Facebook with some regularity. However, I've also been managing to step in it a lot. Being misunderstood online isn't usually a massive problem for me, but I've had it happen a handful of times over the past week or so. One of the times even involved a fellow Medium author I look up to a lot. I felt so bad about that particular instance, I even sent him a rare Facebook message to apologize, but yeah. I haven't exactly been my smoothest this week. 

I am starting to feel a bit more like myself in general, though, and I sense my post-holiday blahs are finally lifting a little bit. After an abysmal start to the month, I finally got back up to speed with my self-imposed Medium schedule. I even miraculously managed to get my monthly newsletter for Elevated Living out on time as of this morning. This week will mark the start of a new month and a fresh set of goals, which I find I'm looking forward to. 

Among other things, I've been focusing on publishing more often to publications other than my own. That's a stretch for me, as I love the expressive freedom that comes with self-publishing or sticking to my own publication, but I also love the reach more established pubs let me take advantage of. It's time to get back to work as far as building my audience goes, as I'm determined to keep building on last year's successes.

Reflections on Life After Watching Disney-Pixar's Soul

I finally got to see the new Disney-Pixar movie the other night -- Soul. Being the giant, overgrown kid-at-heart I am, I get very excited about new Disney films as a rule, but I was extra eager to see this one. Not only does it have a Black lead and contain many references to Black culture -- something I'm happy to be seeing in more media -- but jazz music is an integral part of the film's theme, as well. I've come to love jazz, especially as I get older and increasingly excited about different kinds of music.

I liked the film very much in general. Still, I especially enjoyed its primary message about the concept of life purpose and how it addressed many common questions people have on the subject. 

• What does it mean to have a life purpose?
• Is your purpose about your profession of choice or something else entirely?
• What does it really feel like to finally realize your most significant, dearest goals in life?
• Where do little pleasures and daily experiences fit into the picture?
• Is it possible not to have a purpose, and what happens if that's the case for you?

At nearly 45, I've managed to answer many of those questions for myself, but it took me a while. Joe was my favorite character, so I'd love to say I was just like him -- maybe a little misguided, but always sure of what I wanted to do with my life. I'm really the spitting image of Soul 22, though. 

Like 22, I believed that I didn't have a life purpose for an extremely long time, especially when I was younger. While everyone else my age seemed to know exactly what they wanted to do with their lives, nothing seemed to resonate with me at all. I did know I enjoyed being creative -- drawing, writing, playing piano, and the like -- but there was no way to turn those things into stable livings that actually appealed to me back then. I didn't want to put on a suit and design logos for some soulless corporate entity or settle for teaching schoolchildren about the things I wanted to be doing myself. I especially disliked the idea of having to commute to an office every day.

"Christmas Means Family" Is a Full-of-Shit Statement

Clark Griswold is still my spirit animal.

Now that November's over and December is officially here, we're officially in the process of shifting gears at my house. That means the Christmas lights are lit on a nightly basis, and we've officially started our yearly watchings of some of our favorite holiday films. Last night's pick was one of my personal favorites -- National Lampoons Christmas Vacation. 

The older I get, the more I think I relate to Clark (Chevy Chase) on a level I never did when I first fell in love with this film. I keep holidays very low-key these days for all sorts of reasons, but I'm usually the person in my household that does most of the planning for holiday celebrations. I put together the menus and do all the cooking. Back when my living situation allowed for it more, I used to get pretty into decorating my apartment and trying to make it feel like a magical place to be for the holidays. Sometimes I'd go overboard or fail to plan ahead well enough and wind up shooting myself straight in the foot, just like Clark, but it's probably not too hard to understand why.

Growing up, I was a very idealistic child, and my home life failed to measure up in many ways. My parents stopped loving each other at some point when I was a little kid but made the "honorable" decision to "stay together for the kids" anyway. I don't know who they thought they were fooling, though, because it was pretty apparent that neither of them was about that family life. My dad openly dated other women and was home as little as possible, even around the holidays. My mom more or less just gave up on domestic life -- hated to cook, hated doing the mom thing, and hated keeping house. Each of my parents bad-mouthed the other to my brother and me non-stop, so that was fun.

On Independence and Self-Discovery

"Are you happy, or are you pretending to be happy?"

We watched this movie a few days ago -- Swallow. It's about a young, pregnant housewife named Hunter (Haley Bennett) who's struggling with certain feelings. This is a life she once thought she wanted, and that would make her happy, but -- as can often be the case -- the reality isn't quite measuring up to expectations. Her husband doesn't take her at all seriously and barely sees her as a person. Hunter especially doesn't seem all that thrilled to be pregnant. It's clear she feels like the walls are closing in on her and that something's got to give soon.

One day, Hunter gives in to an odd, sudden urge she has to swallow a marble. For reasons she can't quite understand, the act makes her feel empowered, possibly for the first time in her life. She eventually swallows other objects, some of them quite dangerous. Before she knows it, she has a full-fledged habit on her hands, her husband and in-laws find out, and strife ensues. From there, the film becomes about Hunter's struggle to feel like an important player in her own life and chronicles her attempts to get there. The film was really very good and gives you lots to think about.

Much about Hunter's situation reminds me of how it felt to be married to my first husband, Greg. I was very young at the time -- much younger than Greg -- and I didn't have the luxury of being a housewife (although that is something I thought I wanted.) I definitely didn't develop the urge to swallow marbles and thumbtacks. However, Hunter's feelings of inadequacy were very familiar to me. Like Hunter, I was surrounded by people who considered my feelings and needs to be unimportant compared to everyone else's. I disagreed. 

Scattered Friday Thoughts on Writing in Stages

Officially speaking, I keep saying I'm not sure whether I'm indeed doing NaNoWriMo this year or not, yet all my actions tell me my heart's already set on it. Earlier in the week, I came up with a working title and designed a book cover on my phone while working out on my stationary bike. A Medium draft I've been picking at in bits and pieces over the past couple of days is about NaNoWriMo as a possible tool for writers. Earlier today, I was on NaNo's forums chatting up other writers before I temporarily left the office to go cook dinner for my family. 

Anything could happen between now and then to change my mind again, but I'd say I'm about 90 percent sure at this point that I'll do it. It's been so long since I did any creative writing that I'm curious as to whether I still know how. Plus, I smell possible post fodder to dip into here and there throughout November. I'm interested in seeing how I handle the event as an older, significantly more organized writer, as well. 

........

I've been noticing something interesting about my writing these days. I used to think I flew completely by the seat of my pants when it comes to deciding what to write about. However, my ideas actually go through very organized stages of evolution. They start out as thoughts on life or snippets from daily conversations that likely make it unfiltered into my private journal at some point. Most stay there because the bulk of my everyday thoughts wouldn't be of interest to anyone but me. Some eventually graduate to at least a mention in this blog or somewhere else on social media. 

On Life in Lockdown and Stimulus Checks

At this point, we've all been doing the lockdown thing so long, I think a lot of us have forgotten what life was like before. Or at least I have. At this point, I'm used to this virus being a thing. I'm used to having to plan ahead more when buying groceries to make sure we have the things we need when we need them. I'm used to thinking twice before I consider going out in public (on the rare occasion it even crosses my mind).

I stay home all the time as a rule. I work at home for myself, I entertain myself at home, I pay other people to do all my shopping for me, and my social life starts and stops at social media, so the whole social distancing thing hasn't been hard for me at all. My life as a whole is largely unchanged from what it was. In fact, I could do this whole social distancing thing indefinitely, to be really honest.

Other people are another story though. They don't know how to cope with not being able to see their friends in person, go out for drinks, or spend time in public whenever they feel like it. Most of them are going stir-crazy, half from cabin fever and the other half from genuine stress over coronavirus and the very real risk of serious illness it brings with it. Some are deeply depressed and others are climbing the walls like little children.

I have to confess that the snob in me isn't impressed. As an extreme introvert and long-time voluntary recluse, I've always had people telling me how weird I am for finding it hard to fit into the rest of the world as easily as everyone else always has. It's nice (not to mention interesting) to be the one who's handling everything fine for the change. It's been very nice to be in a position to tell others to just suck it up and do what's necessary for a change.

It's not exactly earning me any friends though. In fact, it's lost me a few so far -- no one noteworthy or important so far, just more hopeless loser types leftover from my LiveJournal days whom I won't miss.

On COVID-19 and Quarantine Life

So far 2020 has been quite the trip. We're only a couple of days into April, but I feel like so many monumental things have been happening lately, both in general and personally speaking. Right now, life for just about everyone in the world is all about the novel coronavirus and the potentially deadly disease that it causes, COVID-19. 

These were things I'd technically heard of the last time I posted here in that I knew they were big deals in China, as well as several countries in Europe. We also knew there were a few cases here in the United States, but I simply assumed COVID-19 would be like Ebola, or the swine flu, or the bird flu, or any of those other super-bugs that made headlines and then disappeared long before they ever managed to touch my life. I didn't think it was even worth paying attention to at the time, let alone actually worrying about or planning for. After all, that sort of thing was for conspiracy theorists and paranoid people like my father and brother, right?

Cut to today. Most of the country is on partial or total lockdown to slow the spread of the virus because it's been spreading relentlessly, as well as killing people right and left. Monterey County, as well as the whole state of California, is under a shelter-in-place order, meaning we're all supposed to stay at home unless we absolutely need to go do something essential like buy groceries or go to the doctor. Non-essential businesses are either closed or struggling to adapt to doing business at a distance. Until very recently, people were panic-buying shelf-stable groceries and essential goods (e.g. toilet paper, beans, and pasta) to the point where grocery store shelves were bare. Even Amazon was out of stock on such things.

On Kicks in the Face and What's Next

Well, this year certainly isn't drawing to a close on the note I wanted. This fucking horrible AB-5 bill that passed back in September sometime has really thrown a wrench into the machine as far as my professional copywriting work is concerned. Generally speaking, I don't tend to pay too much attention to what's going on with politics and all those laws unless they affect me, so I actually didn't even know about it... until I received an email a little over a week ago from the hiring manager at BKA Content, a writing agency I've spent the better part of the last year (and a lot of my professional time) working for. 

She was basically letting me know that the company was terminating all of their California writers at the end of the year because of this bill, and since I do indeed live in California, that definitely includes me. For those that don't know what the bill says, it basically requires any outlet working with California freelance writers to bring us on as full-time employees with benefits and all that jazz if we submit more than 35 published pieces to that outlet over the course of a year. The bill actually wasn't very well thought out, so it's quite unclear whether or not it even applies to copywriting agencies, as they're marketing businesses and not publications. However, a lot of agencies and platforms are erring on the side of caution by dumping all of their California writers regardless. 

That really sucked for me, because I'd really grown to like writing for BKA. I'd worked my way up to the point where I was on some of their most interesting teams. Because of them, I had the opportunity to write for major companies like Papa John's and AutoZone, as well as a multitude of different small businesses. I wrote content for a sober house, a cookie delivery company, an anti-aging skincare company, and many more this past year. Best of all, I didn't have to wait for someone to assign me whatever boring-ass content they decided was right for me. I got to personally select my assignments and work as much or as little as I wanted on any given day. It was perfect -- was. Don't even get me started on the amount of income I'll be losing thanks to that contract going in the crapper. 

Past the Equinox

It's finally starting to feel a little bit like fall around these parts and I'm definitely relieved. We tend to have our warmest weather of the year around the same time it's actually starting to cool off everywhere else, but as always, I hoped maybe it wouldn't happen this year. Instead we wound up having an absolutely horrible heat wave that started just before Labor Day weekend and continued for a couple of weeks afterward.

We're not just talking hot weather by my standards either. Pretty much anyone would probably think temps of over 100 degrees are excessive, especially if you don't have air conditioning and double-especially in this particular part of California. I legitimately felt like I was going to die or go crazy at one point. Honestly, it's still a little too warm for my taste, but thanks to the way it's been getting so cool at night lately, I don't really feel it too much as long as I stay in the house.

At times it even feels downright autumnal and I can't help but feel like doing fall things when that happens. I couldn't (and didn't) work much while it was at its hottest, but I'm slowly getting back to being my productive self. I'm having ideas again (although I've yet to do much with any of my newer ones). I've picked things back up with some video courses I started a while back because I missed my Hitchcock class from July so much. I've been listening to some new music and reading regularly again. I even baked a few things -- banana bread, a very experimental loaf of pumpkin spice bread, and some peanut butter cookie brownies for Seth's birthday last week. It's been nice not feeling like I died in my sleep one night and woke up in Hell Proper to say the least.

On Aging, Choices, and Other Monsters

When I hear people talk about whatever they think is wrong with their lives, it always seems to be about boredom to one degree or another. They want something to happen. They want to feel like their lives are exciting and full of action. They want to feel like they matter to other people -- that they're important.

I'm the opposite. I usually feel like too much is going on even though my "too much" often looks a whole lot like other people's "not much". I feel like I have too much to worry about and too many responsibilities. I also often feel like I matter too much to others and in all the wrong ways -- that too many people count on me for too many things I'm not really equipped to provide. Only those that know me well enough to know how resentful I become when I don't feel like the things I do are noticed or appreciated remember to thank me often enough. Most don't thank me at all, let alone return the favor ever. In other words, I get very little back out of life considering what I put into it at times and that feels almost unbearably unfair.

I'm also noticing that the older I get without any of that changing, the more important money seems to become to me. Not just any money either -- my money. Money I earn under my own power doing things I'm good at. As much as I don't like not having a choice about whether or not I work, I very much enjoy making money. I especially like that I'm in business for myself. I don't have a boss. I get to call all the shots 100% of the time. I don't have employees or business partners either, so I get to take 100% of the credit for everything I've accomplished from a business standpoint. It's a neat feeling -- indulgently selfish in a way I don't get to be when it comes to any other area of my life.