The Old & The New

I know it's been a while since my last post; so long, in fact, that much of my life is unrecognizable from where it was a year ago. I live in a new state. Have a new job. Interact with different people. And, for the most part, spend each day just trying to move on to the next one. For some reason, adjusting to my new life has been much harder than I ever would have thought and, as much as I want to do it, writing is something I just haven't been able to bring myself to do.

I mean, I've thought about writing everyday since I've moved, but up until now I haven't been able to produce a single word on any of my projects. My blog, short stories, novels, screenplays, all of them have fallen to the wayside. Maybe I'm just trying to come up with a reason to make myself feel better about not working on my craft? I'm willing to concede that possibility; after all, no one likes to bare a brand of outright laziness. What I'm hoping, however, is that it has something to do with too much change, in too little time.

Now, before you start thinking I'm one of those people who refuses to accept change, I'll tell you honestly that I'm not. I don't always like it, but I know it's one of the few inevitabilities in life and trying to fight it is an act of futility. Life moves in phases. . .I get it. What I'm struggling with, however, is the act of moving forward with it.

Why? Because some things I don't want to leave behind. Some things were pretty damn good, even if I didn't have the ability to recognize them at the time. Things like: Making pancakes for my daughter on lazy Sundays. Spending Christmas with a family who could fill a Norman Rockwell painting. Changing into pajamas at 4 0'clock in the afternoon. And laying in the arms of someone I love. . . .

I'm trying to move forward with my life--or, at least--I want to try. Everyday, I feel a tug inside of me. A subtle prod on my consciousness urging me to follow the flow and not fight the current. I know the time we have is short, that every minute I waste is another I'll never get back, yet everyday I also feel like I'm drowning in lethargy. In order to shake away the stupor, I have to fill myself with so much caffeine that my heart shudders more than it beats. Even then, the moments of artificial motivation are short-lived and the impetus to write usually fizzles before it can really begin.

How do you make yourself move on when your heart and mind aren't ready? How do you find the strength to forget, when all you want to do is remember? How can you have desire for future dreams, unless you're willing to admit the old ones are dead?

I don't know. I wish I did.

What I do know is that the present will never be what you want it to be if you're wasting all of your energy trying to forge a future than can never exist. . .no matter how badly you want it.

I'm hoping the sluggishness fades the longer I'm here, living my new life. I'm also hoping that just the act of forcing myself to blog will serve as the launching point for the present I have to have and for closing the door on the past that left me behind.

Whatever the outcome, I have to admit that it feels good to let my fingers strike the keys again. . . . And that's better than I've felt in a long time.