No Rhyme or Reason


At the end of last year, I was running around about as ragged as a person can run. I timed getting sick with the kids getting out of school for Winter Break. I had a work deadline for an article published for ArtsATL on Christmas Eve. (And another part of an article published a few days later.) I was drowning in school deadlines in preparation for my Queens residency, which this year began on January 5.

Is it any wonder that on both December 25th (take out) and January 1st (at restaurant) we ate Chinese food?

On December 31st, I went with my whole family to the Fiesta Bowl to watch Duke get killed by Texas A & M. I had an amazing time, and hung out with dear friends, but those few hours were my only “break” before heading to Charlotte.

Fiesta Bowl

Residency was amazing but I was so bone tired this time around, I had trouble standing on my own two feet. And when I returned home, I ran myself ragged catching up with kid/home stuff.

Sometimes, driving myself into the ground serves a good purpose. It helps me refocus and rewrite my priorities. It helps me to know when to say when. It means turning down some freelance work with potentially new employers. It means making sure we keep extra-curricular activities for three kids to a minimum.

So far, so good. In the two weeks since I’ve been back from Charlotte, I’ve written nearly 50 pages of my novel. Granted, it is 50 of the worst pages ever, but even a lousy page is a page, right?

I’ve also *gasp* been writing poetry. Like, hello? Poetry? Am I for serious? I didn’t even start reading poetry until I started school a year ago. And now I’m all, What the hell, Poetry? Why not?

I’m 40, now. I’ll try anything.

Hanging with my writing buddies in Charlotte.

Hanging with my writing buddies in Charlotte.

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