Weary of the written word

Wow… it’s been a long time. So long, in fact, that I had to request a new password to login, having forgotten my old one. I’m doing this now whilst I have an unexpected window. I should be editing photos from a recent shoot, but the program has crashed on me twice and I’ve lost my work so I’m waiting for the geek to arrive home with his repair kit. AKA his brain.

Life seems frenetic. My brain seems overloaded. I’m slowly coming to the conclusion that my ability to cope is lesser than most. Yes, the Second Born is hard work, but the straw on this occasion is small, furry, black and white and has a disproportionately long tail. Often to his detriment, as he does enjoy getting under my feet when I’m in a rush. And frankly, I DO feel like a camel with a broken back.

Medication is proving useful. Instead of tizzying and reaching blind panic state, I’m a bit ‘meh’ about the majority of situations. It’s novel not to feel stressy most of the time. It’s not really improved the driving, which is a shame, but still… baby steps.

I like to feel organised. In reality, I’m not that good at it, but the drowning sensation stems from attempting to get ahead of the game. Because, life IS a game, isn’t it? I’ve muddled through for so long that it’s now proving quite a hefty challenge for this inherent lazybones. But I can relax and sleep better at night when I’m on top of things.

I’m enjoying the burgeoning opportunity that Wyldshots brings to our family. Photographing people is something I’ve always loved and during every shoot, I strive towards that money shot. The problem is, something has to give. And I’m afraid any shred of writing has fallen by the wayside.

I received a beautifully-written, personal rejection from a recent entry into a short story anthology. I was appreciative of the constructive feedback, but something else happened alongside of that. I took it badly. It was a really big deal to me, as he hadn’t slated my writing technique – quite the opposite, in fact. But it had been lacking in something which I can only liken to one of those bland contestants on the X-Factor. Yes, they can hold a tune and they scrub up pretty well, but they’re just a bit blah. They’re the stereotypical B Student… a label I adorned myself, many moons ago. Destined to go about as far as the end of the road. And as a result, I’ve become somewhat resigned.

I don’t feel bad about this revelation… I’m not entirely sure I have the mental capacity to feel anything much, ha. And I ought to reiterate that I’m not giving up. Because writing is something I do enjoy – somewhere deep within all the regular drudgery. And I’ve decided that it’s fine to concentrate on one project at a time. One of my friends said as much on a recent Facebook status.

It goes without saying that I consistently feel like the B Student, but people genuinely seem to like my little photos and I still enjoy what I’m doing. I live in hope that one day, one of my passions* turns into an obvious natural ability and replaces this constant feeling that I’m muddling through in a distinctly average way. Perhaps my standards are just silly/high. But I’m not sure that’s always a bad thing… is it?

*I rarely feel ‘passionate’ about anything. But ‘hobbies’ seems a bit of an insult.

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