I think that when concocting the idea of creating a blog, I had this picture in my head of sharing all my woes and triumphs with my millions of readers (and... laughter) until one day I would find someone who loved my book, sold it to a publisher, designed a cover, and then the world would natually love my book and flock to the store just to get their very own copy. I'm beginning to realize that just may never happen. Perhaps the only readers of this blog will ever be me and the occcasional family member who decides to take a glimpse (I don't think any of them have read more than my first one).
Okay, so what to do with that information. How can I somehow learn a valuable lesson that makes all the heartache worth it? Yeah, I'm not so sure yet. I guess I've always gained hope from the fact that my book is the one thing I have never given up on. I have never even put it aside for more that five weeks. And even then I was thinking of it constantly. However, going for a dream in that concentration for nearly four years now is just so exhausting. Sure, there have been other things in my life, but I can't even begin to count the days when writing that book and gaining a future from it have been the only things getting me out of bed.
Dreams are exhausting. I can now understand why some people stay in their dead-end job. It's safer there and nothing can really hurt them. Sure, they may be discontented, but it's comfortable. And yeah, if anyone else really is reading this besides my family, you may not think I have any idea of what I'm talking about at the age of eighteen. And maybe I don't. Then again, maybe I'm aware of much more than is given credit to me.
I'm ranting. This I know. Then again, it is the exact reason why I started it to begin with. I need somewhere to share my heartache when I know it isn't always wanted to be heard by the people around me. Now, I'm not complaining. I just know, by the looks I get and responses I'm fed, that it's hard for them to be continually lifting my spirits and hearing constantly of my fears. I understand it really. I just wish someone would listen to my fears as validated. Yes, I know I have my life ahead of me. The only problem is I can't imagine doing anything else besides writing. I can't fathom leaving the house at seven and sitting at a desk until the world is as bleak as L. Frank Baum described Kansas in his book, The Wizard of Oz.
Okay, so all that was probably the bitter portion of my title. I am really not a bitter person, though. I love life in general. I love my family more than I could probably ever aptly describe. I love to laugh (and I usually do... often at practically nothing at all). I love meeting new people and seeing different places. I want to travel more than almost anything else when I get older. I have a great desire to see the Swiss Alps and the Eifel Tower. I long to go somewhere in the heart of Europe and get lost for a few months in the beauty and culture. Again, another reason why I need to get this book sold.
Okay, so the dry wit thing. I know I don't sound all that hilarious on print. I don't understand it really, but I'm actually quite amusing if you can get me in person. I love making people laugh. If I hadn't found writing as my ultimate passion, I just may have gone in the entertainment biz (I could have been a clown...). Now, even I'll admit. People often don't understand my humor. I'm slightly offbeat. Every once in a while, though, I can put people on the floor (quite literally).
Okay, so here's to this Sunday evening. I have nothing really more to say except that I check my email every ten minutes (I wish to goldfish I was exaggerating), praying that someone will have said something in return. I'd rather have a rejection at this point that stand any more of this waiting. I'M GOING CRAZY!! And here I leave you...