I Wish I Was More of a Jackass

Dearest blog,

I'm mightily sorry for abandoning you. You were always there for me to ponder why fate had injected so many psychopaths into my dating life. When I wanted to record what I felt to be genius advice on how to throw and attend weddings, travel as a singelton, and have actual political conversations that didn't result in bloodshed, you were there. The reasons for my abandonment are both good and bad.

Because I've decided on a post-New Year's resolution to accentuate the positive, let's start with the good. I'm writing my brains out. Literally, I come home after a full day of work that leaves me wanting to weep in despair and I sit in my squishy rocking chair and write and write and write. I'm exhausted and have headaches and my eyes hurt. And I love it although it leaves me with less time to spend with you, dear blog.

Obviously, I'm not referring to loving my various aches and pains (or the increasing size of my ass as I have yet to figure out how to write whilst lunging). No, I'm referring to the insane amount of writing I've taken on. I'm now allowed to rant twice a week for The Snap Download indefinitely. I'm not sure who all is reading it but it is way cool. I take forever to research my articles, probably way longer than I should. And I've realized that I was even way more of a granola, hippie, leftwing, pinko liberal than I ever thought I was. And I really really dig it.

Then there's the other freelance work I've been doing. I finally finished writing on the passions and proclivities of the presidents and am now working on an e-book for that same client, and possibly now a new assignment of short stories/articles. That work is actually a ton of fun. And I've finished ghost writing ridiculously concise travel articles attempting to smush in way too much info on Latin American cities, most of which I've never visited. Also no more architectural pieces for crappy clients who don't pay or provide feedback.

Now, for the bad reasons. I really should have been focusing on finishing my own book. I mean I am so close--or at least I hope I'm so close--to finishing that it's insane how I keep procrastinating finishing. I honestly do have a lot of other stuff that I am contractually obligated to finish (and enjoy doing, too) but I fear part of the reason I haven't dedicated to my book based off of you, dearest blog, is that I fear it is complete crap.

And this is why I think I need to be more of a jackass. Not like the movies or anything. I need to be more of a jackass in that I need some damn self-confidence. My first instinct is to think that what I do is crap, that no one reads it, and that the reason the few people I've given draft of my book to have largely gone radio silent is because it is sooooooo bad that they are afraid to tell me and crush all my girlish hopes and dreams.

If I was more of a jackass, I'd be so firmly convinced of my own awesomeness that I'd have none of these doubts. I think we all need that really. Well, except the actual jackasses of course. Most of my wildly talented and gifted friends have such low self-esteem in their own wonderfulness that it makes me want to hold a parade with floats designed to honor them. Seriously, why is it that we have the hardest time believing in our own good and self-worth? Why must there always be this much doubt? What could we accomplish if we weren't so afraid that we sucked?

Anyway, so these are my pitiful reasons for ignoring you, dearest blog, for newer and shinier writing assignments. I'll promise to be better or at least promise to try. To quote one of my newer musical crushes, The Milk Carton Kids, you feel like a long hot shower, like getting in your bed when the sheets are warm. Thanks for listening to me before all the others did.


S/N,
Adrienne