Confession Time

It's raining again. Sometimes I wonder if, like the Light of Zartha, it rains because I'm sad or depressed. Or if it's the other way around. These states were barely in my vocabulary, much less life, until the last few years. My natural state of Be-ing is upbeat and positive. But at times like these, I feel like I've been wrestled to the ground.

Uncle already.

Last night I couldn't sleep. Probably that two-hour nap I took in the middle of the day because I just couldn't seem to keep my eyes open. Or maybe it was eating so late. Regardless, it was 3ish before my meditation tape did its job and lulled me under.

As I lay there in bed, tied to the proverbial stake like Joan of Arc, the flames of my recent decisions attacked me from all sides. Unlike Joan, the smoke and heat didn't kill me. Instead, I was left to the mercy of those horrible, biting flames.

I'm writing a novel. Did I tell you? As the author, it is my job to make sure the heroine, or main character, suffers. Right now I'm a bit stuck, because I just don't want to. I like happy.

I can't help but think my own suffering is a divine ploy, designed to force me to allow hers. If this is how it is for writers universally, I feel bad for Stephen King. He's earned every sheckel.

I watched the movie King of California last night. In it, Michael Douglas plays a mental patient who is sprung from his most recent institution. Believing he knows where Spanish gold is buried, he convinces his 16-year old daughter to help him find it. The movie itself was offbeat and touching. But the California scenery made me ache for home.

Why is it, that even though you know, you don't Truly Know, until something you love is gone? I mean in your bones. In your guts. In the fiber of your Being.

I thought I could come back. And be gloriously happy. Turns out, I got one thing right. I came back. Sadly, I didn't get my happy ending. Happy, I am not.

So, it's confession time. I'm stepping out of the costume of Ms. Optimistic. And admitting that sometimes, things just don't work out. At least not the way we want it.

So we make the best of what we end up with.

• My landlord split with his fiancee and wants to move back in to our trailer, which means we have to move out. So no garden. Bye bye beautiful view in Boonieville. 
• My business partner is not motivated, and almost two months and lots of (borrowed) money later, our office is nowhere near ready.
• I am out of money and out of assets. And deeper in debt.
• And the long-lost love? In a movie somewhere. Or a book. Not here. Not for me. Not now.

Time to sign off and go make that heroine suffer. A lot. Maybe it'll allay some of mine. Here's to trying.

To see where I lived, worked and played, catch upcoming episodes of the movie on TMC Extra, or rent the movie. They end up digging for the treasure under the Costco in Simi Valley. I used to shop there...