Independence Day

Along the same songlines as the modern men that claim they shouldn’t do diddly for the women in their lives on Valentine’s Day…that it shouldn’t be just once a year, and that love is an every day gift….well, so I sing a similar song to the 4th.

Every day is independence day, or can be if you make it. Choice. Choose strength. Choose happiness. Choose love. Choose giving. Choose growing. But before I go on sounding like the opener to Trainspotting, let’s catch up on the last month.

I’m finally happy in Eugene. Happier than I was in San Francisco since I returned last year. I have so much less stress. So many less social obligations, that it is a relief to be alone. And yes, quiet with myself in my room, though no one who knows me would believe that’s possible, or even interesting to me. But it is.

And a lot of my peace has to do with having my own place. This is a first for me. Even at this late age. I am enamoured with building a greater sense of independence for myself, at the same time that I’m disgusted that I’ve been waiting till I had this space to take action on making my writing a practice.

Yesterday I was at a minor leagues baseball game in small town America, if that’s what you want to call Eugene. (I’ve seen much smaller). We ran into some people we knew who also happened to have come to the Wild Writing Women event at Mother Kali’s in Eugene two Mondays before. They asked if I wake up at 8am and just write for a few hours every day. My friend, who knows me very well, started to laugh at the thought.




I didn’t like it. Sure it was true, but it wasn’t beyond me to instill writing as a practice. Afterall, I’ve known for at least eight years that’s what’s needed to improve, let alone get things done!

The day before I was going through Headlines from earlier in the year (Headlines are the daily bullets on the last 24 hours of our lives that I trade with my best friend from high school), and I saw that one in February was about missing a writing deadline. It followed with the comment that I could get a lot more done if I had my own place. And that was true to an extent, couch surfing is not conducive to productivity.

However, at the end of the day, we accomplish what we want to. I didn’t need to wait for this private space and leased computer to start my practice. I didn’t have to buy a special journal or new computer. Writing can be done anywhere, and cheaply. It’s not meant to be perfect the first time out, so there really are no excuses. I’ve said them all. I’ve done them all. But it’s my choice.

The first step to having people take you seriously, and to view you as serious about your passions, is to take yourself seriously first. Today I choose to start an article that’s been in my head a week. Check back here to see if I can bloody stick to my word.