The Birth

Let’s go back. Close your eyes… no wait. You’re reading. Sorry. Okay, let’s think really hard while reading. It’s like that stupid phrase you use on job interviews. Yes… multitasking. I’ll go first. My earliest memory is at the age of two. I had just been potty trained so I’m not wearing any diapers. I have on a red jumpsuit and I had forgotten to put on my underwear so I can feel the seam riding up my butt… okay, this is another story. Let’s fast forward to the question that everyone starts to ask. “What do you want to do when you grow up?” Wow. That’s a lot of pressure on a kid. Fortunately for me I already knew. I’d reply, “I wanna be a writer.” Now why I wanted to be a writer… I don’t know. All that I remember is that I liked to tell stories on paper. So now at least I have some sort of goal. To become a writer. I’ve had this goal in mind since then but for some odd reason I keep trying to go against it or around it.
Earlier this year, I was on my way home from a temp agency. I was trying to plea my case with the staff there because I had just been fired…. That sounds so harsh. I had been “released” from the position for being a no call no show. Yeah I know, I broke the rules, blah blah fucking blah. I’m sorry! It was the day after Valentines Day. It fell on a Sunday and I was still on cloud 9 from me and my sweetie’s evening before. No not literally on cloud 9. I didn’t get high. We didn’t even drink. I was just so happy to spend some alone time with him without the kids. All this to say that I ended up not even calling in to work. I figured I’d get fussed at, sent an email with a warning… whatever. I just knew I didn’t normally do things like this and it was sure to be my last. Unfortunately for me it really was my last chance at playing hooky. As I sat there with an apologetic look on my face and listened to my Human Resource manager break down the policies to me, my heart began to break as she slowly uttered, “We’re going to have to end your assignment.”
Whatever suppressed thoughts I had suddenly surfaces and spilled all down my cheeks. “Please don’t do this to me LaLady, (this is a fake name). I’m sorry!”
As I’m walking home on that sunny winter day, I was thinking about how It all started when I lost my dad this past December and how my car got stolen two weeks later only to have it returned completely damaged and then repossessed by the car dealership but not before the only set of keys were lost leaving the burden of my kids to be handed down to my recently widowed mother so that I could make it to work on the train on time. Yeah it’s a long story I know. But hey, my sweetie still has his job with the city so not all is bad.
So I’m home on the internet, filling out applications and sending out my resume only to find out that I’ve just signed up with some damn spammer and now I have a trillion new emails in my spam folder. As I’m doing this, I’m like woa. WTF! Why am I doing this to myself? Why am I steady looking for work that either I’ll get tired of and quit or get fired from? And that’s when it dawned on me. Not that this was my first time getting dawned on, but something about this time made me take it a little more serious. “You know why you’re life isn’t working out for you?” I asked myself. “It’s because you keep pretending to be a normal person who’s pretending to be a writer instead of being the writer that you really are!” Woa. That thought really got to me this time. So I decided to open up MS Word and write.
My question to you is… when is the last time that you’ve been dawned on?