Today it’s back to work. I’ve been out for 2 weeks now so I’m hoping I haven’t completely forgotten what the hell I’m supposed to be doing. The good thing is that I’m at the desk so the risk of my killing an innocent patient is minimal.
Things have been going well for me lately. I know that may seem contradictory when you read some of the entries I’ve posted as of late but there is a reason. Sometime last week I ran across a journal entry by my dA friend Jon in which he proposed the idea of why bright times can sometimes encourage dark writing. This comment conversation explains things perfectly. At my all time lows, I rarely write… when I do, yes it’s dark but it seriously lacks in the affluence I am typically blessed with.
It seems that there is a curse in writing for those who are prone to reside on the darker side of existence. Yesterday as I was making the long drive to drop Brooke off at her father’s, I found myself actually appreciating the day. It’s been dreary and either snowing or raining every day but yesterday was one of those random days where the sky was clear but for those random wisps of white that can’t quite call themselves clouds yet. It was that time of day where the sun is at just the right place to create perfect symmetry of shadow and light… each car on the road appearing to be chasing it’s darker counterpart down the highway. At one point, I was behind a rather large truck (actually driving at an acceptable speed which was refreshing in itself) and as I drove into the small rural town that was my destination, this truck started to kick up the leaves along the side of the road, making them dance and swirl against the light, catching the sun in such a way that I wished I could just follow that truck around the streets until it finally stopped. I often see these things and appreciate them… but I find it difficult to focus on them when I take the time to open my mind and let it flow onto paper or scatter my thoughts across this keyboard. Those things somehow get lost but it doesn’t mean that they aren’t there impacting me, bringing something simple and charming into my life. We all need those things.
The ultimate truth? I write the way I do simply because I possess the ability to do so. I am of free mind and free will and have a driving need to learn in retrospect. Things happen for a reason and we can be beaten down or we can move forward. Because I choose to write or create a desolate piece of artwork doesn’t translate into a woman depressed. It’s entirely too easy to succumb to the call of the various opiates available to us today. Be it a drug of choice, alcohol, or simply staring vacantly into the television screen. I opt to release instead of become consumed. Do not fault me for my methods.