In the late 90’s, I was a mid-20’s-aged aspiring writer (among other artistic interests). Emphasis on aspiring. I had zero direction. No degree, no formal training, certainly no MFA. I’d had a passion for writing going back years. I was a rapper and poet by late in middle school and into high school. Most of what I wrote, outside of school and rapping around the way, ended up in the drawers and closet in my bedroom. A few of my poems saw the light of day, long enough for me to read to this girl or that girl over the telephone, a plus in courting; I was chubby, so to say. I needed every advantage. In 12th grade, I joined a Black student organization. Creative expression became an important component of the group and we did a few readings. I did my best to get over my shyness, my reluctance to share what I was writing. I thought I was starting to come into my own creatively. I started nursing dreams of making a career out of my creativity, or at least my strong proclivity towards the humanities.
First post of the year. I didn’t mean to wait this long to post something here, but I kept waiting and waiting and here we are. No particular reason. So, Happy New Year. Lots going on in my life, lots of changes, but I’m rolling with them. And then some. And I’m still here. Just as the fourth Nor’easter of the year hits.
Almost unbelievably so, I started writing at a reasonable time. That was after eating and falling asleep right next to my notebook and laptop. I didn’t sleep too well last night and during the day at the office, we were moving network cables from one cage to another. It only took a couple of hours at most, but it was deceptively strenuous. At least we got it done. There are many stories from when we put those cables in there 10 years ago. I wrote about that one of the days during the month. I’m grateful that I get to carry so many good stories with me. When it’s all said and done, when we’ve moved on and we’re looking back, that’s what we’ll have. As a writer, it’s my stock, it’s my gold. I’m grateful for that.
And another late night writing adventure. I was going to be hitting the road in the late evening, so the plan was to write in the early evening. That didn’t happen. I only got around to transcribing a journal entry I’d written in my paper notebook. That, obviously didn’t count. So, after I got to my destination after a 2 ½ hour drive, I took out ye olde Chromebook and put fingers to keys, keystrokes to word processor.
Another late night. I started writing as soon as the football game went off. I wish I’d been able to go down to the ballpark. I haven’t been to a Monday night game since 2011 vs. the Jets. That was a fun game and a wonderful night. I still had fun reading and writing tonight, though. That’s always fun.
The plan was to work on one of my other works in progress currently in need of words. I keep notes and printed copies of all the essays comprising that project in a binder. I was flipping through those notes and all the many questions I asked of each essay, when I got the idea of writing about my first times ever being on stage. I’d written around those times in Intro to Theatre in a couple of the other essays I wrote this month, so I figured it might be a good idea to write directly about them. And so I did. I’ll be continuing tomorrow as I didn’t get as far into the story as I wanted to before I needed to quit so I could get some sleep.