This long weekend has proven to be quite therapeutic for me. Cliched as it is to say, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. People write routinely about the changing of the seasons for a reason. The sunlight encourages me to be outside, to bike around town, to cook, to spend time with the boys at home.
I really want to take a stab at writing this book that I so clearly envision making. The first step is to really take a close look at outlining what I want to do, in a documented form to show I’m not just made of ideas, with an execution plan. Second, to verbalize my thoughts and see what other people think of them, to speak with an agent and other writers. And from what I’ve read, the one thing I need to be absolutely sure of is the determination involved with a project of this scope. This is not going to be a weekend thing, I’m going to have to really devote a lot of time and give up quite a bit to want to do this – and whether I really want it that much is a question that can understandably linger in your mind.
I’m going to have to put career advancement – or jutting from one career path to another, at the very least – on hold if I really envision that book materializing. And I have to be happy doing it, happy with the job I spend much time in, serious about planning a research trip to the Philippines. I need to let go of the regret and blame I feel for fucking up the last year or so, of being naive and quitting a job (two jobs), and having the guts to see what I could do; failing, ultimately, and taking me to where I am right now – listening to music that reminds me of summers back home, smoking cigarettes in my bedroom and thinking about what life would be like in Canada, imagining doing the activities I do today would be the norm of every day.
Life throws curveballs often, and getting to the conclusion that you need to adapt – to sink, or to swim – becomes, you hope, inevitable.