I Am Me but Me is Them, too (and other stuff)

It's official. I've become my parents. I'm really not sure when it happened, either. It's not like one day I woke up with their perspective on life, speaking their parental words like, "This is not a democracy" and "Because I said so." It's more like a stalker-style transition. The changes slowly creeped up on me and watched my every move, just waiting for the right time to strike and set in, shaping me into...into, well...them.

Today I drove around the metro Atlanta area (something I don't do often), listening to the local top 40 radio station. I love music. My kind of music, that is. As I drove around town (lost, part of the time but that's a different blog post entirely), I found myself saying, OUT LOUD, "Who makes this crap? They call this music? This isn't music!" And then I actually felt myself doing the eye roll. You know the one...the one we used to give our parents when they said things we thought were entirely stupid. Things like, "This isn't music. These people can't even sing!"

And then I knew. I knew it had really happened. I've excused myself repeatedly, saying I am not becoming my parents but that I have kids and many of the attributes I now share with them are a factor of birthing babies but the truth is, I have become my parents. How do I know? Because I made the comment about the music TO MYSELF. So yes, not only was I talking to myself, like most parents seem to do but I was making a parental comment to myself.

Please. Help. Me.

I may have mentioned my daughter a time or two and her not-so-well-liked boyfriend. This is again proof that I am my parents. I've lost absolutely all patience for this relationship because God love her (and so do I), my daughter is being swindled into a relationship that isn't at all what she thinks it is. Yes, she'll have to figure this out for herself and hopefully one day she will but in the mean time, I find myself wanting to shake her and say, "What! Are you an idiot! The guy doesn't give a shit about you! Get over it!" Instead, I usually say things like, "In five years this boy will mean nothing to you blah...blah...blah..." Thanks, mom. Thanks, dad.

Enough of that. I could talk about it for hours. Let's move on.

Today I met up with an old friend, someone I hadn't seen in years. Of course she looked the same and by the way, had really great eyeliner. I need green eyes so I can wear that color. Oh, sorry. Tangent. Anyway, she's a working professional and by that I do not mean prostitute but a business professional compared to me, which of course, I am not a professional at anything right now. Anyway, it was great to see her but afterward, I needed a nap. She is involved in EVERYTHING doing EVERYTHING and just listening to all she is doing made me tired. I'm pretty sure she doesn't sleep. Some people don't need it and she must be one of them.

She's that woman that knows what she wants and makes it happen. I'm that woman that still can't figure out what I want. I have that book, "The Success Principles". It's about finding your life purpose and then in 39 chapters of the book and boatloads of hard work, presto! You're a success!

I however, could not get past chapter one. In chapter one you have to define your life's purpose. THAT'S WHAT I BOUGHT THE DAMN BOOK FOR!

If I could figure THAT out, then I could work toward it and likely be successful. Once I commit to something, I'm good. It's the finding something to commit to that I'm struggling with right now.

Either way, she inspired me. Maybe a little of her energy and excitement for life has rubbed off on me and I can figure out my passion.

I have several opportunities for passion, really. I love to write. I've got books in the works and one even out scooping out publishers. I had a literary agent but he was a sham so I opted out of that contract. I've started looking for others and yesterday spent the day with my head in a book of them and for publishers that have published books similar to mine. If you are a publisher, pick me. Pick me.

The problem with writing is that I am a perfectionist. I can't just write and let the words flow like music from a violin. Instead, I re-read and re-read and re-write and re-write and I can't get past page 50 in my worlds greatest novel. My goal this month is to get past it without re-reading it and just moving forward with the story. The time to re-write is in the editing stage. Wish me luck. The concept is good and I think I can make something out of the story but I have to finish it to make that happen.

Hmm...I'm starting to feel like now is a good time to work on it. So, here I go!