BLOG: Wine & Charcuterie

Currently sitting at The Fancy Place. I got here early so I could get set up with the perfect view. Mission accomplished. I’m right by the window, watching the street, judging everyone who passes by, just like the good old days. Happy D-Days to me.

How’s life going? Well, pretty much all I do now is work. Turns out workaholism is also a gene that runs in my family, lol. I’ve had three days off in the last three weeks. This includes the occasional commute to Sioux Falls to work in a different store for extra cash. I’ve been doing so well they’re lending me to another store up there for a month while they hire and train some new workers. Yes, they’re paying me extra for that too. It’s a pretty good gig. My hope is that it will be a learning experience and I will be ready to move up to Lead for the holidays when all the students leave. In the meantime, I’ve been saving a lot of money, paying off some debt, and staying at home watching TV instead of going out. The lack of drama is extremely refreshing.

I have yet to broach the topic of therapy. I came back from my house-sitting gig and started working constantly instead. I just don’t want to think about it. Any of it. I just want to go to work, do my job, and come home. I feel like a Dragon sitting on gold, hoarding more and more, eyes sparkling with greed. Really I just took a Personal Finance class during Covid and now I’m on my A-Game. Hurray for responsible adulting. Or finally losing all hope and giving into the Capitalist Machine. Whatever.

How is writing? Uh, what writing? You mean the writing I’m doing right now? It’s great! Haha, just kidding. I’m just sitting on my outline. Literally. Finally had some time to do some reflection today. Here’s what happened as I see it now:

-Had a long life full of ridiculous experiences by the ripe old age of 26. Perhaps too many experiences. Enough experiences to write a novel, or so I thought. Find self burnt out and depressed.

-Get thrown into wall by terrible man because I’m an idiot and pursue terrible men all the time “for the story.” Decide to “make a change” because this is definitely the last straw, you guys, she says several years before Andrew comes along. Lol, lol, lol. Joke’s on me. Yep, and I added a couple more after that, but they weren’t what I would call terrible at all. Still not exactly ideal, but definitely way better compared to their predecessors. Anyway, I don’t date anymore at all, so there’s that. Quitting dating has solved most of the problems I was struggling with before, mostly because men are crazy and feel the need to make women as miserable as possible all the time. Eventually I realized I don’t actually have to do this at all anymore. I don’t have to date or have sex or get married or have kids or even talk to men if I don’t feel like. It was liberating and empowering. I’ve been so much healthier and happier since. I forsee myself being single for a long time. After all, what do men actually bring to the table in my life? Nothing. They bring nothing but problems and endless drama. I’m over it.

-Work in Chinese restaurant for awhile. Save money.

-Take a gig in at a resort in Utah for a bit. Spend a few months exploring the Southwest. Come back.

-Spend time in Omaha. Come back.

-Spend time with family in Ohio. Come back.

-Sick for awhile. Spend time outlining potential projects. Work internship that goes nowhere. Move into downtown loft. Start

-Work through outlines until unexpected creation of Andrew takes over everything. Accidentally write entire pointless novel about stupid, ridiculous, distracting man, as per usual. End up with four very distinct piles of crap that could either be screenplays or novels, plus a lot of extraneous plots and characters, most of which are just altars of Andrew.

-Drink way too much. Travel some more.

-Talk to editor in Boston. Get both helpful feedback and rejection, which is fine.

-Try to go back to work with disastrous results, the most spectacular of which was in Montana. People at Bloody Mary’s go on crazy retaliation spree. Ignore their petty, insecure bullshit and apply for Paris Writing Workshop anyway. Get accepted. Struggle to save money due to work situation. Make it thanks to a miracle literally dropping out of the sky.

-Go to Workshop. Get more helpful feedback and also more rejection, which is fine.

-Come back. Lost AF. Go on bourbon and drug-fulled mistake spree with much more entertaining results.

-Go to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. Get way too drunk, but ultimately have the time of my life. Come back with a bad case of “swamp fever.” Pass it to at least two other people. Turns out to be Covid. Sorry to those two people, btw.

-Pandemic Hits. Go on lockdown. Wake up every single day for two months and dance to Singing in the Rain first thing in the morning, even before coffee. No joke, this simple routine literally saved my life.

-Watch all the Musicals. Watch TV and movies. Watch them again in French. Learn all the lines, all the songs, all the dances.

-Go to New Jersey to stay with family. Spend four more months locked in a room with occasional outings for travel. Come back because NYC is dead as a fucking doornail. DC is even more depressing.

-Donald Trump gets fired.

-Start taking online classes and going to online events. Practice French and Spanish, decide to start learning Brazilian Portuguese just for fun (yes I’m still doing that). Struggle to find non-bar job. Drink too much, again. Plan out entire blog project based on all various writing and marketing classes. Still cannot write.

-Finally find job again. Proceed to become a total workaholic. Stare at blog plan occasionally, wondering what it would be like to write again.

-Now I’m sitting here on my afternoon off, watching people walk up and down the street.

To sum up: I think it’s all going rather well. Really!

I’ve done some projects, gotten an overwhelming amount of feedback (which I think is the main cause of my intense block), and received some rejections. Did it suck to be rejected by seven newspapers, two editors, an agent, and a Hollywood Producer (even though Nepotism is directly involved)? Hell yeah it sucked! But you know what? It’s just part of the process. Everything I’ve been through so far has led directly to where I am now.

The good news is: there’s still plenty of time left. There’s no rush. I’ve met tons of writers through AWP, conferences, and social media who have been rejected 1000 times. Many didn’t find success until after they turned 40. It’s okay. Success will happen. The only thing standing in my way now is the instability of the media/publishing/film/TV industries, climate change, and, of course, the imminent collapse of society when the Revolution comes. No big deal. I can handle it. It’s my Destiny. The Tree of Life at the Sun Dance Ceremony told me so. You can’t argue with The Great Spirit. You just can’t.

Anyway, so, the writing will come when it comes. Still thinking of applying to MacDowell and Yaddo. You know, just because it’s been my dream to go to MacDowell since I was like, 12, so… might as well go for that at some point. For those of you who don’t know, MacDowell and Yaddo are extremely prestigious residencies on the East Coast that only accept a limited number of creatives every season. If you get in, you get to go hang out at a giant compound on an expansive acreage in New England with other creatives for a couple weeks/months and just… create… free from all distraction. So many successful writers and artists have passed through their doors. I’ve been thinking about it again since Paris, but obviously I’m totally terrified of being rejected by “The Elites.” You know, because writing on a farm in South Dakota isn’t good enough for me. It has to be a farm in New England in autumn so I can really channel that writerly energy. So, we’ll see.

In the meantime, I’m focusing on the next-level expert charcuterie board and glass of wine in front of me. Honestly, I’m pleasantly surprised right now. This is exactly what I want. I am very happy right now. Is that happiness temporary? Yes, but c’est la vie, and I think the French would agree.

In fact, I know the French would say, “Life is a tragedy. You are born, you live, and then you die. All that matters is the experiences you have in between. Sometimes those experiences are simple — like the perfect wine paired with the perfect charcuterie board paired with the perfect ambiance (except for this music, which is totes ruining the vibe). That is the best you can hope for in life. Enjoy it while you can before you die. The End.” They wouldn’t say it that way, of course. They would make it sound much deeper and far more romantic than I ever could. Everything sounds better in French, after all. Too bad I can’t write in French the way I can in English. My French writing skills are on the level of a five-year-old (not even) right now, so, yeah, fuck it, I’ll just write in English instead.

OMG, sorry I totally just lost track of what I’m writing. No joke, I seriously got distracted by the charcuterie board. Amazeballs. So, I’m just going to go enjoy that and wait for someone interesting to come along, assuming that happens at all, which it probably won’t.

Wait, is it just me, or does Downtown seem way too dead for D-Days right now? If this isn’t proof society is headed towards eminent collapse, I don’t know what is. Kids these days. No one wants to get blacked out and make mistakes for everyone to film and plaster all over the internet for everyone to see anymore. They just want to vape and drink White Claws and watch 5 second videos on Tik Tok. Rah rah rah, get off my lawn! Or whatever.

On that note, I’m out. Have a lovely day.

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