Mundane Musings

 I have a mundane existence. There is no variation in my day to day doings. I wake up, go to work. Come home. Repeat. I feel pressed down. I actually feel a plethora of emotions. The lost of my mom was the deepest cut. Feeling really alone in this world of 7 billion. She was the person I could talk to the most. Now I'm in a house that is falling apart, filled with clutter. I spend some of my off days chucking stuff in the rubbish. But I really need to hire somebody to move this clutter. I really don't have a social life. Never had a dating life.I feel I'm unmatchable. I don't think there is anyone out there for me. I don't have any guy friends, so I really don't know anything about romance and such. I've been single all my life. I guess I probably always will be. I suppose I never put a lot of effort into romantic pursuits. I have put a lot of effort into trying to be a writer that gets published. But so far that's been a bust. All three if my manuscripts, rejected. Maybe my fourth will be the charm. It's still the only dream I have. I really would like to achieve it, even more than a relationship. I once tried self-publishing. Sold ten copies. Spent eight months on dating sites. Facebook friends with a guy, who lives in Canada. Spent thousands on hair growth this and that. Still can't rubber band a strand. I will end my mundane musings here.

The Girl Who Dreams

It is 2015 and I still have the same dream that I've always had. That is to write, well I do write almost daily. To be an author of books, mainly middle-grade fantasy. Of course most people will scoff at my dream. Or they'll say I don't know what I want to do. But that is not true. Writing is my passion. I have a creative mind and soul. My imagination is in overdrive. In my school days when the teacher would ask me a question my mind was in some other universe. And to this day my mind drifts to another place. Sometimes a character will walk through my cerebral corridor. Or I'll think  way to wax poetic about a ruby sunset.

There was a time when I was trying to have a regular, non-creative job. I use to apply to banks, and office type jobs but then I realize I am a creative person, I love to write. My heart isn't in to being crammed into a cubicle or being an account representative reciting a script over and over on the phone. I don't want to sell insurance. I don't want to be a manager. I don't want to try and compete with others for a job where no passion lies.

I've spent all of my twenties trying to get a  regular job, all the while my creativity was wilting. Not to reflect in the rear view  but I wish I would have nourish my creativity back then. Wrote more. Polish my manuscript and then maybe I would be further in  my literary career. Because honestly that is the only career I want. Right now I'm planted in the retail industry and I can feel the creativity ebbing like a tide. But I've been trying to keep the blooms of the my creativity. I'm working on completing my fourth manuscript. Sure my venture into self-publishing didn't yield any success but I won't give up on my literary dream. I am after all the girl who dreams.

Literary or bust.

O, Muse, Where Art Thou?

Staring at blank pages, words slowly seep out. But wait they're all jumbled. Can't seem to capture what's in my mind's eye. All the books I read seem better than any idea I can conjure. Inspiration strikes! No that was only a chill that ran through my body. Something is missing. Hmmm, where is that muse of mine? Did my muse runaway? Or did some other scribe five finger discount my muse. I think I like to report a missing person because I won't be able to finish my novel until my muse comes back.