COME FLY WITH ME

I have been working feverishly on the final draft of my script. The deadline for the contest that I'm going to enter it in is this Friday. My last day of work is Thursday. I am looking at the synchonicity of these two events as a good thing. I was talking to A. this morning and he said that I sounded like I wasn't happy. He's in Serbia on vacation, but even on the phone, thousands of miles away, he can still nail me. I told him that I'm freaked out about not having a job at the end of this week. He responded that I need to know that this is a good ending and that no matter what I have him.

Yeah, except he's in Serbia!

I do know that this is timely. I have been sitting and spinning without challenging myself for a long time. One can get real comfortable where I've been. One can get real stagnant too. One can also get a really wide ass from too much sitting. So I am willing to see this ending as a good and timely one.

I'm also willing to see the completion of the script and tossing it out there as the great new beginning. To write for a living is, I think, a conscious choice to follow your passion. The you may have to find other ways to pay your bills while you look for someone who will pay you to write. If I had little bills I would be a lot less freaked out. Every day I feel a little closer to the end of the skinny branches. My ass is bobbing around out there and I need to let go and fly into the great new beginning.

I haven't had any practice in a long time and all I can think about is what if I have forgotten how to fly? What if I hit the ground and end up on the corner with a sign that says, "Will work for food? Anything helps," like the man at Venice and Fairfax that I drive past too many times a week.

On a positive note Pete might finally lose some weight if he's tied to a shopping cart, hauling it down the street. He's a big cat, but 25 pounds is a little too, verging on getting your picture distributed on the internet big. I've been thinking all kinds of catastrophic thoughts and I'm so aware that it's all a distraction from getting on and doing what I need to do.

Why is it that I must be exhausted into surrender? Into doing what I need to do and going with the flow, trusting that if I do the work and keep shuffling my feet, that great new beginning will just show up? It always has before. This isn't the first time I've found myself here.

I'm just scared that I've forgotten how to fly.