Two: I wondered if it were true

I'm in a low, contemplative mood lately. Not sad per se, although I am getting close to sit and sulk territory. I'm just nursing some relatively usual pangs, about my place in the world and my future.

I'm a little stuck in old times, trying to reckon with who I always wished I was, who I became, and at what point the transition happened. I always felt, and still feel, there are big things ahead of me, but time is fleeting and I am not making many moves in that direction. If I've got something up my sleeve to make my life cajunga, now, on the cusp of 35, would be the time to make it known. But I always had a habit of hewing toward safe, smaller moves rather than taking the big chance and failing.

If this is all I am -- not a writer, not a creator, not a person of note, just an inventory analyst for a nationwide retail chain, it's a tough thing to process. But that also means I'm other things. Damn good husband. Aspiring father. Teammate. Cult smut writer and X-Men blogger. Those aren't bad things to be and they suit me fine and yet that image of what's just out of reach.

I see people going out and getting it. You know, these tiktokers and podcasters and vloggers and whatnot getting huge numbers of eyeballs on themselves. Being entertaining, providing content for someone, is not a scarcity anymore. It's not the province of a few dedicated weirdos like it was when I was younger, it is... everything. And it's easier. But you know, there were comparable mediums to work in when I was younger, and I didn't do anything with them because I didn't have the getupandgo any more then than I do now. Because it wasn't what I wanted and it's not what I want now (so why do I feel jealous and icky about people who do it? Perhaps because whatever they want, they're doing, whereas I... am not.)

Lest we forget, I had lots of time and energy in my 20's, and I did what I did with it. And I think back to that kid and think -- he was smart and funny but he wasn't ready yet anyway. Not to do what I'm doing today and what I'm doing today doesn't even feel like the final version of what I want and who I want to be. But what I want may not exist anymore.

I was so jazzed back in 2020 when I had the chance to write that script. I was energized because I didn't have time to get in my feelings about my prospects for success. When we weren't able to make the deadline the dream crumbled and though I picked up the script again my enthusiasm has dulled to the point where I find it hard to get motivated.

I want to write if I know people will see it, and the things I write, are seen, but they are not a ticket to success. If it's guaranteed scraps or famine with a chance of jackpot, I take the scraps. Is that wrong?

Is it satisfying?

It's not that I have so many brilliant ideas, necessarily, that I desperately need to share. It's that I need writing to be part of my life and the easiest way to do that is to make it my job.

All this is a bunch of different feelings, from feeling old to feeling unsuccessful to being bitter about people who have more time to do things that I wouldn't even do if I had time. I don't know man, I'm a bit misanthropic these days.

Of course, I hide it well. It just simmers under the surface.

Could be it's cabin fever. We got dumped on with snow this week and it's made me want to stay inside even more than we already were. You know I heard the third year of a pandemic is the hardest.

January was a bit of a blur. It actually did contain some professional success, as I was tapped to work with the PR department on sourcing some data-based talking points for articles touting the company's trajectory in 2021. I was able to flex my journalistic muscles and a lot of people seemed impressed.  It was fun to do something different with my work and show that side of me.

The last few weeks have been good. We had Mel's parents over for coffee two weekends ago, a nice chat and a good excuse to clean the place. We had Unc, Sherlie and Nonna over the following weekend, played cards and watched much of the Cincinnati-KC Football game that went to overtime. Then last night we braved the cold and snow to go see my dad and Deb for dinner, on the grounds that we hadn't seen them in a while, and even longer since we saw them without a big holiday type gathering reason. It was nice.

I don't know. You caught me on a bad day -- things really aren't so bad but I'm all up in my feelings and had been meaning to write for a while. Mel went to bed early and I'm kind of night owling. Might do some of that writing that makes me feel good but not so good because it's not the Big One, but still yeah, you know, kind of good.

Well they can't all be winners.

One of them, it would be nice to be a winner.

Keep on rockin'

-Scotto