(It isn't a great picture since I took it at night... I'll take better ones sometime)
Anyway, so I was in a decent mood, like I said. Then I got a very lecture-y e-mail from my brother.
My relationship with my brother is complicated at best... as kids we did not get along at all, mostly because adults were always comparing us and therefore we both tried to prove that we were "better" than the other. My brother pounced on every one of my mistakes and made fun of me. I, for my part, irritated him by not giving him any space whatsoever.
So my whole life I've seen my brother be very close with my little sister while wondering why I couldn't have that kind of relationship with him. Recently, we've begun writing e-mails back and forth. For the first time, we're beginning to have a decent brother-sister relationship.
But I made the mistake in my last e-mail of telling him of my plans to pursue writing 100%. In his return e-mail, I heard all about how it's so much better to earn your own living than to live off help from your parents. He considers student loans and grants to be the same as living off someone else. In his opinion, I'm not fully an adult unless I'm earning my own living. Therefore, he encouraged me to find a job--any job--and consider writing as a second career that I do in the evenings after work.
Immediately after I read his e-mail, I felt my mood go way down. At first I thought I was just angry because he wrote as if he thought I didn't know what it felt like to earn my own living. I thought about the absolute poverty that me and Dave lived in because I didn't want to be dependent on my parents. I thought about how unfair it is that Dave never got to come out here and experience life absent the constant struggle to stay above water. I missed him terribly because I knew he would understand in a way that my brother did not, and I felt alone.
So I turned off my computer and watched Scrubs and had a long imaginary talk with JD (who is my favourite character and who I have a crush on) because he's my age and is constantly struggling to grow up. And I told him what I couldn't tell anyone else: while my brother's advice is practical and sound, it's wrong. It's all well and good to say, "Have a job to fall back on," but the problem is that all my adult life I've done that, and in my case, having a fall back job means not really trying to be a writer. It's time for me to approach my calling with confidence, not with fear of failure. And choosing to focus 100% on my writing right now doesn't make me less of an adult. In fact, it's the most adult decision I've ever made.
I felt a little better after that. I had imaginary sex with my imaginary friend, which I guess is good because it's the first time I've had any sexual feelings at all since Dave's death, and in any event it calmed me down.
The next morning I had a long real talk with my mom. She didn't want me to be mad at my brother and she's afraid I'm giving up on teaching. She also thinks I should just get any job (as long as it's not working at Kinko's) so that I'll get out of the house more.
I wandered around all day in a daze. My head ached and I couldn't concentrate on anything. There was a candle lighting ceremony at a local temple to commemorate the first night of Chanukah, but I couldn't bring myself to go. Somewhere along the way, I lit a candle myself for Chanukah and suddenly found myself remembering how last Chanukah Dave made me potato pancakes and prayed with me over the candles. I thought maybe the real reason I was having a hard time was because I was missing him. I tried to forget about everything. I tried to edit some of my novel but I couldn't read more than two pages because my head ached too badly. I watched Scrubs and had another long imaginary talk with JD. He "told" me I wasn't sleeping enough. I resolved to do better.
Yesterday was kind of more of the same... the morning was a little bit better, I guess, because I dreamed I had become a tutor rather than a teacher. When I woke up that stuck with me. A little later, I looked in the classified ads and found an ad for a special-needs tutor. Needless to say, I applied right away.
Shortly after that my giant headache came back, worse than the day before. I couldn't do anything but lie in bed... everytime I sat up my head started aching awfully and I felt really sick.
This morning, though, I finally broke through the depression or whatever it was. I checked out a new church with my neighbor. As soon as I walked in, it felt right, the same way my new car felt right the second I sat down in it. The way this church was set up just reminded me of The Quest... I felt strongly that if Dave were here he would love this church too. The service started with some Christian rock--there wasn't a live band like at the Quest, but the words were on a slide projected onto a screen just like I'm used to.
This was the best service I've been to since I moved out here. they had a guest pastor who was visitng from Poland. He spoke about the importance of reading the Bible so that you know what God is trying to tell you. He talked about some of his truly horrific experiences, trying to be a religious leader in a totalitarian country... he spoke about being arrested and beaten and almost shot for the crime of spreading religion. He takled about n ot being able to find an entire Bible because the Bible had been banned from Poland. He talked about having signed a contract to be a sculptor in Sweden, only to have the Polish border closed two days later, causing him to lose the life savings he had invested in his new business.
It was truly an amazing sermon, and I was so glad I went. Afterwards, they had refreshments just like they always had at the Quest. I half-broke my diet and ate a few small brownie pieces.
My head is starting to clear up now, and I'm wondering why I let my brother's letter get to me. I guess in my heart I was only 99% committed to the idea of being 100% committed to being a writer... there was a part of me that was afraind, that felt I should do the traditional thing I've always done. I realized that it's not a matter of if I'm going to be a published writer... it's a matter of when, and therefore I just need to keep pursuing it.
I'm going to approach writing as if it's a job this week. I meant to start this last week, but I got thrown off by the whole situation with my car. I'm going to get up early tomorrow and get all my morning routine stuff out of the way before 9 AM--exercising, showering, eating breakfast. Then from 9 to 12 I'm going to research writing grants and contests, and start applying for them. 12-12:30 is lunch. After lunch I'm going to spend a couple of hours planning my new novel, Chasing Ghosts. Then I'm going to work on revising my previous novel until 5 PM, which is closing time. That'll give me half an hour to prepare my Toastmasters speech for tomorrow's meeting, but that'll be enough time, because I know already what I'm talking about: the importance of following your dreams.
This excites me. Oh, I know I have practical things to do... things like paying bills and calling the insurance company and so on, and I plan to work them in between my writing tasks, just as I would if I were at a full-time job. And I know I need money of my own, which is why I'm investigating grants. Unlike my brother, I don't see grants as an "allowance" that interferes with me being an adult. I see getting grants as me taking steps towards realizing my dream.
There's this episode of Scrubs where at the end Dr. Cox says to JD, "You love being a doctor, don't you? Don't forget that." I feel it's the same for me. I truly love writing. It's truly my calling. And I must not forget, because the world will try to wear me down.
I intend to climb out of this hole and stay out, this time.
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