Ceiling Tile #15 had me dreaming of lottery winnings and easy living. Ah, #15… such an easy Tile.
By the time I pulled out of easy street, I was vacationing on Tile #23 in a beach town very much south of here where foot massages were the island’s specialty. Tile # 31 reminded me that I have another three sets to go.
Shut up #31.
Tile traveling can be very relaxing. Drifting, dreaming, floating, moving lazily from tile to tile…and then bam!
Along came Tile #56.
It hit me like a floor tile! Why didn’t I think of this before? Shouldn’t I get moving on this right away? Is this a dream? Should someone wake me?
Here she goes again #37 muttered.
I had a vision. A vision of my dream job coming to daytime (no it wasn’t massage therapy). I tried to capture the full sight of my vision before the illusion escaped back into the ceiling tile grooves.
If I can do what I truly love on whatever Tile I was on, would that not constitute as a real life dream job? Well then why can’t I? Why should I settle for just a paycheck when my passion comes from the payout of writing?
Writing my in- the-closet true love for as long as I could remember.
Couldn’t I write anywhere? About anything? With NO dress code? Could I finally come out and physically produce more than a secret inner pleasure from each piece that I create? Could I actually cultivate my own desired lifestyle by my own head and hand?
Uh, Tile # 45 reminds me that I still have a mortgage and that little thing called electricity that I have grown so accustomed to.
But #56 was having none of it! She was on a roll! Look at her go slamming #45 down with her lofty optimism. Why can’t I start now? Not quit what aids in the eating process but just start? Somewhere! Anywhere!
What do I have to lose if nothing comes of it? What do I have to gain?
Tile # 76 called me an idiot.
I closed my eyes and did another crunch set.
Satisfied 31?
Not until your ass stops looking like a potato sack in jeans, he countered.
Each exhale on the way up brought me back to the #56 Dream Tile. I just wasn’t ready to let it go that easily.
But I kept getting these annoying and unwanted popcorn signals in my head.
Remember the time she threw her back out trying to imitate a move on So You Think You Can Dance, sneered #37?
She can’t carry the Ralph Kramden/Fred Flintstone spirit forever, # 44 added snidely
How many times can a person re-invent herself anyway? # 12 wanted to know
Hey! She can do anything she wants to! #56 cheered (was that my mother up there?).
I think that #47 and #12 were going to get into it at any moment as they debated heatedly on this latest dream being the direct result of a lack of sex.
And who will want to read her stuff? An unnumbered thought shot out.
Keep breathing. Okay, eight more crunches and let’s add eight butt lifts while I’m already down here (it’s not just about lifting my spirits these days #31 not-so-kindly reminded me once more).
My hopes refused to be doused. Let’s at least do some research on how I can get started before giving up. If nothing else #56 is practical.
If I can’t put in ten hours a day on my forever-in-progress-novel then why not start with a short blog here and there? An article? A guest post?
Can’t get paid for blogging! #12 rudely announced.
Why not? #56 and I wondered.
O.K., so maybe it won’t be the lottery winnings that Tile #15 was hoping for but getting paid something for doing what I love would be worth it. A personal win if not monetary gain!
That’s right! #56 atta-girled me.
Um, Hello!!!!!…. Realistic Police up here…are you kidding me? #37 screamed down.
I was just about to take a shoe and smash it up #37’s square ass when Tile #25 yelled that he was hungry…oh that was my son.
I gave the Be-Right-There call to the wild and remained flat and unmoving for just a few seconds more. I had to pull my thoughts together.
Other than my labored breathing, there was complete silence in the room and surprisingly from the above ceiling gallery.
I braced myself for the continuing negative onslaught.
Nothing came.
Hmmm….. I guess it is all me now.
I squatted, and rose slowly allowing the positive attitude of ceiling Tile #56 to fill me as I let my head be the last to come up. I took a final cool down moment and came up with a powerful and well resolved exhale.
I was ready.
It felt good to get out of my own way for a minute. I can and will do it.
The result of my efforts may never get to the front page for all to monitor and witness but it will definitely make front-page headlines in my world.
Take that #37!
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http://juliaworkingfromhome.blogspot.com/
http://www.blogcatalog.com/blog/a-book-inside-writing-publishing-and-selling-your-story
http://www.blogcatalog.com/blog/plot-whisperer-for-writers-and-readers
1 comments:
Atta girl! I'm glad to know I'm not the only one with voices in my head....I mean ceiling. I also loved the characters and inner turmoil at play. "Not until your ass stops looking like a potato sack in jeans, he countered." LOL! "And who will want to read her stuff? An unnumbered thought shot out." Answer: I quite emjoy reading your stuff, and I'm sure others do as well. Thanks for the resources listed at the bottom.
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