Sometimes life is just hard

My car died last week. Grayson. I had him for a year. Almost to the day. He was a good car. Got me from A to B. And from B back to A, or sometimes to C. But he always got me home. Man, he was a good car. Named him after Dick Grayson from the comic books. Because I'm a comic book nerd. And it wasn't overly obvious. I don't like to be in your face, generally, with what I do and don't like/obsess over. Like comic books. If you guys knew the extent that my level of comic book nerd actually was, you'd be surprised, I think.

Any way, Grayson died and I have had a while to contemplate what I'm doing with my life. I don't have a new job yet. #anyonewanttohireawriter? I am living in the basement of my childhood home, questioning my life choices. I have a degree that my dad thinks is useless and currently he's trying really hard not to say "I told you so." BUT, despite all the opposition waiting for me to fail, I feel like this is my time to keep pushing forward. Not stopping the momentum. Well, there's not really a lot of momentum at this particular moment. Mostly I just can't stop trying. I can't stop working hard to find that elusive new job. And reach for my amazing dreams. I don't expect to become a screenwriter tomorrow, that's the end game. But I can get a new job now that will take me to the next step that will take me to the next step that will eventually lead to me becoming a screenwriter and making Changing Tyde into a movie. And LIGHTS. Because I know that's what y'all want, right?! RIGHT!

So, today I sit on my bed in my room that is full of boxes I haven't unpacked. And won't unpack until I move again. And while I sit, I keep thinking about how awesome my life actually is. It's not where I want to be, but it's not a bad place to start from. This is only the beginning, peeps. Only the beginning.

And in honor of this moment, I will share with you a poem I wrote. It's for LIGHTS. And it's been published in a student journal at UVU. And has an odd resemblance to my life. Sort of. I'm not a dancer. Obviously. But, how many times do we come across something trying to hold us back? And we have to fight and in the end there's triumph and pirouettes. And sometimes those pirouettes are the cookies and not the dance move. Ha ha.

Shadow and a Dancer

Creeper creeps in

darkness and night.

Dancer twirls,

twists and turns

together in motion.

He hides behind

her watching, waiting.

turn. stop. lift. stop.

Seeing no one she

dances until dawn

when nothing remains.

Struggle and fight,

she pushes beyond

shadow falls

while light remains

triumph and pirouettes.