June found me in the desert. It found me in the car. June drove, occasionally, but only when I didn’t want to go that way in the first place.
June found the floor of my house after ripping up the carpet to install laminate. It did not, however, stick around to finish the job.
June brought a new motorcycle in my garage that I don’t own, but had to fix. It found my motorcycle in parts and ignored it.
June read a kick as Sci-Fi novel one morning at the pub, pint in one hand.
June called twice, and left messages, but I never called back.
June was a wedding outside with five friends who have never needed tuxes to stand by each other. It was hot, but we were prepared. There was dancing and laughter and re-arranging furniture.
June found ice on Mars.
June never found time for a blog post, which is why this is in July. Or at least, that sounds good.
June taught me capoeira angola, watching as I did cartwheels, ginga-ed, and laughed until my body was sore in new and creative places.
June reminded me I am still young.
My days have been full since last weekend, tests, work, all this real life. Last weekend I took off from all of that and went to a convention.
It was a new hotel for March, and they were not ready for us. They say by August they will have enough people, support, back-up support and even moral support, but we will see.
On Friday night there was Rocky Horror Picture Show by the Satanic Mechanics, a group I am familiar with. The show was great. Afterwards found myself and a new bunch of friends and argued, talked and drank about movies, books and of course, Godzilla.
I had a reading on Saturday at 3:00. I read two stories, Island in my Head and “Untitled” which I wrote that morning. I went to most of the readings. The reading rooms were great, but they were so far from the main part (aka, the dealer room and bar) that not many people even knew they were there. We will need signs for August, and whiskey.
Sunday Scares that Care did an auction for some collectibles. It was good stuff and for a good purpose. I wandered home, tired and ready to do battle once again with the real world.
Which is much more scary than anything I found at Horrorfind.
I’ve been busy lately. Really busy. Too many things that need to be done, too many things that I want to do. Just too many things and still only one of me.
So what happens when I get busy? The writing is first to go. Unfortunatly, while I consider myself a writer, since I am not a ‘professional’ writer, there are other priorities which involve a paycheck. Perhaps that will change one day, but for now writing is something I do when I am not at work.
My own personal interests do not help the situation. If I were simply fixated on writing, it would be easier to find the time. Instead I am drawn to writing and web coding and video games and camping and aikido and reading and … you get the idea. I am the jake-of-all-trades after all.
I don’t have an answer, this isn’t a post about how you can change your, or my, life and make it better or more organized or what have you. This is more of a statement. This is who I am. I am busy.