Job v. Dream v. Me

Today is one of those where I don’t feel like working on my job, but on my dream.  My job sustains me.  My dream lifts me up.  One does not exist without the other.  I do not exist without either.  They conflict with each, fighting for my time, my attention.  I give too much to the job and not enough to the dream.  I am going to change this.  Life is too hectic, too screwed up and ever changing.  I love it some days.  I want to be set free from the confines of what I need to do for sustenance.  I want to feed & live on the dream.

I am not happy when I am not writing.  The crap I throw on here is temporary relief of the pressure, but does nothing to help in a larger sense.  I have developed a physical imperative to tell stories, to teach, to entertain, to provoke – to write.  When I do not satisfy this imperative, I become dark, dreary, moody, head-achy, and generally unpleasant to be around.  I don’t like myself when I am not writing.  I feel like shit.  If nothing is ever read, published, produced.  Well, that’s life.  I won’t ever stop.  I can’t.

Now I have to go and do what I need to do to get paid.  My back hurts when I think about it.


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