Maybe i’m a writer…

Just wrote this to a good friend…

I'm a little off today. Better than i was a few weeks ago, but i'm still sitting in this discomfort that i'm either:

a.) not doing “enough” or
b.) doing the wrong things or
c.) i should be finding work that makes money or
d.) i should be focusing on getting settled and comfortable in my new house and life.

Yesterday i spent the entire day rewriting short stories and looking for markets to send them to. Technically i was very productive, but part of me is laying all these trips on myself that i should be doing more world-work. At the same time i think i'm taking on judgments from my parents that nothing i'm doing these days makes any money and is a bunch of pipe dreams (music, writing, teaching personal growth courses.)


Also i feel pretty overwhelmed. Non-profit negotiations are tense and i'm scared that i'm the only one who knows my ass from a hole in the ground (sounds pretty egotistical doesn't it?)

None of this is getting me any closer to being a-big-rock-star-famous-author-single-handedly-saving-the-world-by-transforming-movements-to-work-together.

The last few days, i keep feeling like there's a thousand things i “should” be doing and that everything is a distraction from everything else. Maybe i should go meditate, or get a job in a cafe or something. or at least give myself permission to go write a fucking song.

So, yeah… that's how i'm doing (this morning.)

Off to send out more fiction,

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