I had hoped that by taking the route that I knew only barely that I would have evaded the problems that were threatening to overtake my stubborn resolve. A miscalculation on my part, but like most of the events of this week, it was becoming ever more clear that I am inadequately prepared to deal with the absence of a 'day to day'. This realization really didn't reveal the solution as readily as I had been led to believe by optimistic relatives and friends. I trod on knowing I would inevitably become lost in this unfamiliar neighborhood that resembled my own so closely that I could have sworn that I had seen the very same display of hostas on my way out. Unfortunately, my recollection of the scene was fogged if not completely blotted out by the excess of alcohol pumping through my veins.
Why had I let my fortitude crumble? Why had I knowingly ushered my heart into such a tepid pool of hostile creatures?
I had started the story above..I actually can't remember how long ago it was. Anyway, here it is! I get so weighted with words when I write, it inevitably transforms any story I may have brewing into a pile of adjectives..and then the story just becomes too heavy to carry anywhere except to the bin! Could I be a writer? I lack a creative flow that barely breeches the scope of a paragraph..if I'm lucky maybe I'll be able to eek out a page or two, but if you whittle it down to relevant work...it's still no better than a mass of imaginative drivel with no segue way.
in real life...
I have moved to Iowa City! I am trying to drink in the experience of this new place..and I think I may really enjoy it here for years to come. I have lived in 3 different places since deciding to make the move, and I have finally landed in a place that I know I will reside at least until the end of July..after which again I am uncertain..go figure. I am trying to remain optimistic because to do otherwise would be counterproductive, and dis bitch can't afford to waste time with that nonsense.