Just write

I know the way to be a writer is to write. I’ve told that to students. I used to write every day. Somewhere along the line, survival took over. I was working full time and going to school full time. I lived in a tiny apartment in a kinda bad neighborhood in San Francisco with 3 cats and a TV I never turned on.

I promised myself; when I had time.  And then came a job after grad school. Oh and then actually came a career. Some asshat I used to know told me that I wasn’t any good with computers and I set out to prove him wrong. And oh boy did I. I got all the way to Senior Engineer/IT director. Built an entire network from the ground up. Recovered exchange servers from beyond the veil of darkness. I got WAY better than he’d ever be.

I loved it too. I have to let that be ok. I really do love fixing websites/computers/networks. I like using everything from a screwdriver to a PHP cookbook. There is nothing that feels more like flow to me than a particularly difficult problem that needs to be solved. I will work nonstop. And I love that feeling. Recently my Android phone died and I found a way to recover data using a hairdryer. Really.  Did I need to? No, of course everything was backed up. 2 different ways. But I wanted to figure out what someone would do if they hadn’t backed up and needed those pictures. And I was very successful. Got it working long enough to extract the data 3 different ways. And that was freaking fun. And I felt SO good afterwards.

And then came marriage and a wonderful, amazing daughter.  And I got to stay home with her. And all my writing then was about the miracle of watching her

grow and change. And I loved it. I would not trade those years for anything. Not anything. She is the joy of my life and the best thing I’ve ever done. She’s not a thing…but you know what I mean. How would you say that? My greatest accomplishment–no because I just made her safe and taught–she isn’t an accomplishment, she’s a person. Every moment I got to spend with her napping, going on walks and chasing geese, making Halloween costumes–those are so precious. Especially now that she’s in high school.  We are still close, but she needs me in a different way now. One of those ways is to let her fly while we can still catch her. Someone told me that once and I’ve held onto that. I’ve even told Em and she’s said it right back to me, that she wants to try this thing or that thing, while we can still be her safety net. Which honestly we’ll always be and always have, but in an entirely different way than keeping a toddler from climbing on top of the fridge.

Now, even as I look for a new tech job in our new town of Eugene (which I love in a way I couldn’t love other places I lived)I have the chance to return to my first love: writing. I used to furiously scribble poems, some stories, diaries, writing journals. I’d write on paper, napkins, the wall–anything when I was struck by an idea. I’ve not had or not let any inspiration strike me often in the last few years or now. I saw a Ted Talk last night that talked about being on autopilot and allowing yourself to fall into the same everyday things instead of doing the thing that will bring your goal closer. Here, she says it better than I do :

And so in this time of getting to know my new town, in looking for work, in having a high school kid and aging kitties. I need to add sitting down and writing a bit to my list of things I really want: volunteering to stop the horribleness of what is happening with the Republican president, walking, searching out new graveyards (I’m a taphophile) cooking more amazing things and writing. I just want to give it a try to see if it is still there.  I have to start here to get used to spending the time. I’ve been saying I wanted to for years and years. Now I have the time.

Ha…I made myself sit down and turn off distractions and thought I had nothing to say. I need to remember to just write.