‘Skinny jeans’ for the soul


Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I can’t remember the last time I had a good night’s sleep. For that matter, I don’t really recall the last proper day off — one without e-mail checking AND without piled-up errands.

When I snuck down to the beach last night, it may sound bizarre, but I felt closer to God than I have been in a while. Maybe if ever. I know I’m feeling guilty over not having been to church since (*gulp*) early May, and it really affects me when I feel like the divine connection is weak.

Not that I pass for anything remotely resembling a good Christian. But when I feel like my creativity is in the toilet and my heart is circling the drain, that I’m going against the very reason I’ve been put here. When I’m unable/afraid to connect with God is when I need Him most of all.

In my small moments of self-rediscovery this weekend, including some reading on making dreams come true, it occurs to me that one must define the dreams before they can be put on the official “to-do” list. When you do what I do — getting out of bed, check — not ending up in federal prison, check — every day, no wonder greatness never comes my way. I don’t put myself in a position to receive it.

Life hasn’t turned out the way I thought it would. And I found myself briefly thinking, “And it never will,” and it made me sick. But where did all the dreams go? I always figured I’d end up in the right place at the right time. I never wanted to force traditional life milestones on myself. I always figured I had to pay my dues and the payback would come in time.

And that small voice pipes up and asks sometimes, “What will be left of you when it does?”

Usually I give that voice a nice dose of Pinot Noir till it passes out. 🙂

I found myself wondering the other day about the road more-traveled, and why I always have to pick the unchartered one. And how not a one of them has led me to my life of leisure, writing trashy romance novels based on my salacious exploits.

Don’t get me wrong, there are some exploits. Not enough to write about. 😉 And the only really creative thought was that I should throw out my thousands of pages of notes for my fiction series and start over. Maybe use Wall Street as a setting. With names changed to protect the innocent and all. 😉

I guess what I’m looking for is that guarantee that my happy ending is in store, before I quit believing in fairy tales altogether.

I took this photo as my “skinny jeans” for the soul. Let’s not talk about the 10 pounds I’ve gained since I quit going to church. (OK, God, I HEAR YOU NOW.)

But just like I always keep a pair of jeans handy that are a size smaller for inspiration, this beach chair is my mental equivalent, for when I can take more than an hour or day or week or even a month to park my pudgy pork roast ass on it and everyone/everything else BE DAMNED.

Leave a message, ’cause Goddess is dreaming right now.

And just like in the old Corona commercials that inspired this shot, I may toss that first-gen iPhone into the ocean to stop it from ringing. (Also because I want the 3GS.)

Well, I’m going to bed tonight with about six hours’ of work left undone. No big deal — I like the project but it’s just dragging. I just wish weekends were for getting AHEAD and not trying to CATCH UP, whether it’s work or home or personal or whatever.

Maybe I’ll throw that phone into the ocean after all so I can stop feeling guilty for not using it for what I bought it for. …

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