My obsessions: fruition

Looks like Christmas will be coming a little early for me this year.

Jeff told me a little while age that he finally found an ebay action for a laptop that would suit my needs. It’s going to be my Christmas present. All he’s asking that I do is start writing again.

Domesticat was my first attempt to get myself back in the habit of recording my thoughts. I wasn’t looking to garner a “readership,” nor was I looking to change the world. I was just trying to retrain my mind, to get it back into the habit of filing interesting thoughts under “something to write about”—and then actually doing so.I’ve always joked that the one thing I’ve always wanted to do in my life was to come up with the Great American Novel. I really don’t have a job or a career that I’ve always wanted to work in; I’ve never had any lofty ambitions. I’ve just wanted to create something worth reading.

I’ve always wanted to walk into a bookstore and find something that I created.

When I was seventeen I was sure that I had a Great American Novel in me somewhere. When I was twenty I wasn’t sure if I’d ever write again. When I was twenty-two I looked the other way and tried not to answer the question when, once a year or so, Andrew would bring up the question of “When are you going to start writing again?” When I was twenty-three the itch to create was becoming something I thought about every day, fetish-like in its subliminal pull.

Writing is an obsession. Some people…well, I was going to say that some people do things like draw and scribble or cook or knit or something fairly productive like that…but I just realized that I do all of those and yet none of them provide me with the creative satisfaction that a clearly-turned phrase does. So I guess it’s time to kick the character prepping into high gear. That laptop will be arriving in a week or two; I need to put it to work.

In other news, I may pick up my computer desk tomorrow. A grand total of $99 before tax; I’ll need to buy shelving too, increasing the cost to about $175, but for completely revamping this room, it’s a steal.

Tomorrow begins a new and interesting time at work—my supervisor’s last day was Friday. All bets are off.

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