So right after my post last month about my apparent underlying quest to be busy and innundated with chaos at all times, apparently I decide it's the perfect time to move. (Huh???) And move, like, now. And, of course it's just me and I'm in school so I have to work around all that. So I spend 2 full weeks arranging for a mover, and packing a little each night and on weekends. Move one weekend. Then unpack a little at a time and on a weekend. So that brings me up to March. Who know's what I'll decide to do this month. Your guess is as good as mine.
Anyway, I think it was a good choice. Decided to move from the spacious 2 bedroom to a 1 bedroom. Since I hadn't yet bought any furniture since living in my studio apartment in St. Louis, well, it was kind of empty. And I had too much time to come home to an empty apartment to think about what it would take to fill it up. Not necessarily buying the stuff. But the fact that I would HAVE the stuff. And if I HAVE stuff, when I move again, I'd have to move stuff. And I guarantee you, I will be moving again. It's gonna happen. Then I got to thinking that with the economy the way it is, now would be the perfect time for me to organize and get funds together for my FINAL move. Meaning, the next move will be the purchase of a permanent location. It will definitely be here in Georgia. I'm feeling that. So I decided to downsize now to prepare for that final move later.
Even before doing everything, I missed reading. Don't have time to do it at the moment. I'd always listened to audio books here and there, but I decided to do it more since I have no time for reading. Got my library card and I go faithfully every two weeks for new "reads." Couple of weeks ago, I decided to pick up a lecture series on Plato and Aristotle and now, I'm hooked on revisiting Greek literature. I haven't read or studied since high school and even then, I don't remember it being as interesting as I'm finding it now. I don't know if it's just because I'm older and have more of an appreciation for it now. Or if it's because since high school, I've become a writer and I'm now more interested in the early works of literature. In any respect, my mind feels like it's drinking. Like it's been thirsty and it finally found something satisfying enough to qwench its thirst. I can't wait to get in my car and drive to work every morning or on the weekends because I'm ready to listen to more.
I finished Plato and Aristotle and just picked up another lecture series on the Epics. Greek and Roman, and others. And I also picked up the first epic being discussed, Odyssey by Homer. Listening, somehow I feel like I'm learning something about me. It's like getting an understanding of early writers and what made them write. That's the question people ask writers all the time: Why do you write? Although writers will have an answer, if they're like me, the real answer is "I have no earthly idea at all." Honestly, it freaks me out that I can't answer that honestly when asked. It's like there has to me an understandable reason that I can convey to people and they can understand. But truthfully, how can I do that when I don't.
All I can say is that it has nothing to do with being published or making money or being famous for writing. Just like now, I don't get a chance to write much and I miss it so dearly. I still think about my story. I think about writing all the time. I think how much I'm going to write when I finish school. I don't think about publishing or making money. I don't care. Don't get me wrong, when it comes time to promote and sell, I'll do what it takes. It's just that that's not the motivation. I don't think about publishing and money. It is truly like and urge within. It feels like anxiety. And it feels personal. Nothing I want to wear on my chest to announce to the world. I want to write for my own satisfaction. And why that is, especially when there could be nothing to gain, I honestly cannot truthfully explain to anyone. Listening to these lectures feels like a path to understanding myself, because I'm understanding the ancient works of some of the earliest writers. And I feel like I'm reading in between the lines, trying to find and understand me.
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