Texas

TJC is having a hard time with getting my job in order. They've said that I have the job since I was in Texas for Samantha's graduation, but for one reason or another HR, payroll, and whoever else is in charge of this all is dragging their feet through the mud through all of this and I still don't have a position that I can guarantee is mine.

The tricky part to all of this is that I want to set up my apartment and a place to live as soon as possible. I have a month before I need to be there. A MONTH. That's scary to even think about that I only have a month before I'm living in a different state starting a new job as a full time faculty.

Today Alicia said that she wished I wasn't so happy to get this job. Or that I wasn't so happy to move. She's happy that I have a job, or not, but she's not happy that I'm happy and is upset that I'm not willing to stop being happy for her to be happy. It's confusing and I don't even get it. She's just anxious about the entire thing.

The thing that hit home for me today was a random video on Facebook of Margaret Atwood talking about writing. She said something along the lines of if you're not writing it's because you're afraid of something. I haven't written a line in almost a month. I have the entire outline done. I know what needs to happen next, but for one reason or another I keep pansying out and not writing what I know I should be writing. I'm giving excuses, and I'm giving all sorts of reasons of why I'm not finishing that novel, and I know that they're just excuses. I know that I'm coming up with the lamest most unoriginal reasons to not write, so I'm going to try to put myself responsible to this blog.

Right now, I'm at almost 70,000 words. I'm going to get out of my head, and allow myself to write an ugly baby draft. It'll be ugly. It'll need serious edits, but at least it will be out in the world. Wish me luck.