I have two kids now. The house is a constant barrage of noise and clutter. There is little time for sleep or even a moment of quiet. This can really grate on a person's nerves. And it has. I've been both extremely emotional and catatonic.
I haven't been able to avoid thinking about how much I haven't been able to get done. There just isn't enough time to change all those diapers, feed all those open mouths, clean all the messes, AND do a good show for you folks. Nor have I had any time to devote to writing. I've been beating myself up over it for a while now. At the end of the day I'm just too exhausted to sit behind the computer and start a project.
I've got to accept the fact that children just suck up spare time like the Shamwow sucks up spilled wine. I have to let go of the guilt associated with not writing anything. I used to believe that by now I would be a successful writer, having already published several books and collections of short stories. I hasn't happened. Perhaps if I had given up all sleep entirely, then I might have gotten a book published by now. Sure, some folks say that you just "have to want it" more in order to be successful. So be it. I haven't wanted it enough to sacrifice sleep.
For as long as I can remember, I've had this feeling urging me to create something splendid. I haven't had the drive to complete any serious project worthy of mass appeal (or even critique), but I have had the desire. Either in radio or in the literary world. I wanted to be a musician, a writer, a talk-show host, a journalist, or someone otherwise famous. But I never stuck to one thing and knuckled down and did the work. Maybe that's what separates me from successful writers or broadcasters. They worked. I merely dreamed of the result. Sitting around waiting for fame doesn't yield any results, just dreams.
And now, here I am, almost 41, and I've only written a few decent short stories and only spent one year in professional radio. I've squandered my time.
But I've now got a far more important project to work on... I have two children. One is two years old and the other is a month. Nothing else is more important. I had my chance to be some rockstar novelist, and it's passed. I don't have the luxury of wishing things had been different. My kids deserve more attention from me than any manuscript, recording, or microphone. And they deserve more attention from my thoughts than any remorse about lost opportunities.
I guess this post is an attempt to tell myself that it's okay to not have any time for big writing projects. I don't have to smack myself in the face for not sitting down at the keyboard every day working on some work of fiction when there are mouths to feed and bums to wipe. I have to let go of dreams of fame and stardom. Those are past goals.
Something must be wrong with my sound card! I just recorded 4 empty files for show 32 and am pulling my bloody hair out!
Life showers me with responsibilities right now. We just got our house under contract; we just had our bid for our new house accepted; my wife is facing deportation; the universe with eventually experience entropy; etc. etc. etc.
I really wish I had squeezed some audio here in the last weeks recent. But, keeping the house in tip-top shape and "staged" for the lookers really does keep a dude busy.
"You fucking slacker," I hear you saying. And, yeeeeessss, slacking has played a part in not putting together a new show, but I am an amateur slacker since I did post this!!! A professional wouldn't have even bothered to turn on his computer.
I know I should have plenty to talk about when things calm down (or when I get off my ass). (Depressed folks are, by nature, lethargic and imobile.) For now, why don't you follow me at twitter.com/raretodd. For those of you who aren't familiar with twitter--it's blogging for super slackers! You only get 140 characters for Chrissake!
Please bear with me while I continue my life changes in A) my living space, B) my wife's legal status, and C) my medication! It's a bumpy, yet not quite jagged as I had thought, ride. (At the moment.)
There is so much to tell, I don't know where to begin.
We got back from the Netherlands late Saturday night. Jet lag has yet to yield its grip. I'm very tired. The Mrs. and Baby Boy are also exhausted. All we feel like doing is plastering our heads down on the pillow and float off to Dreamland. Baby Boy is doing that right now.
It was an amazing week. I have lots of stories to tell, and I'll share them in the next podcast. Needless to say, I was completely surprised when our buddies showed up at the farmhouse. My wife said she had to get up at 5am to go get my birthday present. I thought she was nuts! But it turned out that she had to get up that early so she could be at the airport on time to pick up the Mystery Guests!
I'm considering changing the podcast again. I'm contemplating going back to just music and save the stories and such just for blogging. I'm trying to nudge myself back into the writing habit, and this might be a way to do just that.
Of course I would appreciate any feedback you have on this idea, or any other comment you might have.