Excuses

Normally I'd write here what the essasy is about and what has been going on with my life but now I think I'd better explain myself in parts. This essasy is about why....well, eh......


Not even being able to explain why I must explain is a fine example of my bad habit. What's my bad habit? Well I would try to explain but it will all sound very lame.

Let's just say that my bad habit is a habit that we all share whenever we decide the reasons why we don't do what we're suppose to do. Or for that matter do our very own goals that we set for ourselves.

I am a writer and with all that entails. The creative bouts of creativity, the writer's block, the writer's angst, the moments when you've become the one thing you fear--a starving artist.

Let's take a look at that picture. So romantic! The starving artist in his or her garret, smoking cheap cigarettes, drinking cheap booze, digesting cheap food, and wearing threadbare clothes.

Strip that all away and bring it down to the realities of the twenty-first century and you have a clearer picture. Survival. Something everybody does or tries to do and yet we romantize the starving aritist as if his or her poverty is somewhat more special. But honestly it's not.

People do try very hard to survive and work even harder to thrive. There is no reason in this day and age for a person living in America to be living some kind of overly romantic dickensian existance! And yet some do. But before I go off on one of my infamous tangents I must tell you that I do work hard at survival and I am trying to thrive. I   Just   Suck   At    It!

There I said it.

Now before the self-righteous start pumping their fist in the air; hear me out. Times are hard and they are getting harder. When I first started out on my own I wasn't on my own. I first try living in a college dorm, then I moved in with my now ex-boyfriend's sister at her apartment in the Bronx, and then I moved in with my Dad. So I went from co-dependant to co-dependant hoping upon hope that I would some how get a well paying job, save up enough money, and get a place of my own. Since this aian't my full bio I am going to skip a few details and tell you about my life since my young, naive, twenties.

First one year of homelessness, then five years of living on my own with the help of Section-Eight housing help, there were short-term jobs, long term goals, and I thought I had plenty of time to achieve all my goals before I was forty.

Talk about naive, talk about romantic! Oh please don't roll your eyes like that! I really thought like that and I bet you did too in your twenties so stop fronting! ;p

I got myself together enough to start this blog, fight to keep my apartment, and I no longer see the world in stark black and white. So many shades of grey I desperately need some rose colored glasses! Sigh.

So what's my excuse? Why am I not a well-published author with many books under my belt and a Pulitzer prize for literature? Why must I give one? Any amount of excuses I put out will either gather enough pity that I could drown in embarrassment or I will only earn disdain. People reading this will either shake there heads in bemusement or sneer at my assumed laziness.

I'm not about to give anyone that kind of power over me nor do I have one single excuse of all my issues and problems. I am either a product of my upbringing or I am responding to my environment. What do you do dear reader when faced with potential homelessness at every turn? How do you feel when your light, gas, or wi-fi bill is due but are short on cash? Make excuses.

"I'm not getting paid enough." You say. "It's hard to make ends meet!" You cry. "Somebody help me out here, I'm not looking for a handout but a hand up!" And people who have been blessed with luck, skill, or God's special protection just scoff and look at you as if you're some leech on society. Self-righteous assholes!  Erm, cough! So at this point you are getting the picture right? O.K.

So this essay is about having reasons why the post below this one happen. After last posting I got a job, lost a job, and I'm back on government suffrage. While I had a job I got to experience a once in a lifetime event of serendipity and reveled in it.

That's what life is really life for a suffering artist in the twenty-first century. I am just like anyone else who has to survive and sometimes I suck at it. But I share, I'm not selfish. I give to others who have less than myself when I can and hope through my writing to share my thoughts in order to teach others that they are not alone. There are techniques.

Now some people like a lecture like they like a whole in the head and think; "Who the hell does this person think they are to tell me how to live my life?". Well that's when fiction writing and poetry writing come in. I tell a story about a girl who wanted to grow up to be...your dream career here... and she goes though trails and tribulations. Does she survival? Does she win? What would you do if you were her?

I want people to think, dream, and feel things when they read what I have written. Sometimes I have time to write out a poem and print it here. Sometimes I am so busy surviving that I don't even have time to complete several books I have working on. But whatever my excuse, I will make my dreams come true. There is no expiration date on making that happen and I hope you join me on this journey. Or at least give me a hand up.

Thank you.


MRClueuin