An Elizabeth Gilbert Overdose? Perhaps.

I mean, she's not wrong.

I've reread a lot of this blog this week, this quiet anonymous little journal that threatens to be found by someone, anyone, and is read (eventually and finally) by no one. It was interesting in a mildly boring way; the more things change, the more they stay the same.

I would appear to be someone who is obsessed with relationships and love (and that my job is all sorts of soul suck). Well, that too would not be wrong. I don't really care that it comes off that way. The context, that things are written with months in between, is lost in the journal format.

None of this is my point.

None except that little job bit that I snuck in.

I have been so consumed by the love of the project I have been working on for the last 3 (4?) years. No project in tech should be that long - that's the first BIG problem. But, it's a bad relationship now. It's eating me like fire ants on whatever it is they eat.

For a year I got up every morning and wrote between 5-7am. My eyes opened and myself said "write the book." I exercised laser focus, nothing else mattered. Write.The.Book.

So, what happened?

The end happened. I got to the end, looked behind me at all the words, and said, "Oh man, I gotta go back and .... "

and now here I am, almost five months later, making excuses about how it's too big of a fix to attend to from 5-7am everyday and then go to work and pull off this feat I am trying to pull off. My brain simply said, "Please stop. Right now, you can only have one of us. You can't have both."

So I looked at my wealth of words, "I'll come back for you" I said with my heart and eyes.

"Sure you will" she nodded, and not without genuine empathy either. She meant it. She meant it as if she would wait for me.

But the job is killing me nonetheless. Resource Management does not care for me like Lemke does. Lemke adores me and waits for us to tell her story - and certainly before my sister accidentally kills herself - in the hope, that for one moment, I  can show her her life from my perspective and that I can pay tribute to her sacrifice. You know, the one that she now martyrs herself with, and with such Irish gusto.

Anyways, I'm here: standing equal distance between work and that book. I'm as close to the the end of this project as I am at the beginning of the end of this book.

So what do I need? I need help. At work. At work I need to ask for, and demand they take me seriously, the help I need. This work is going hurt me with or with out considering anything about my personal creative desires.

It's a boyfriend that just keeps asking me to make him a sammich while laughing with his friends - he's a good guy, he just does not know what an ass he's become. He thinks that taking me aside once and awhile and saying "hey babe, you know I love you right?" is enough to sustain a marriage. It is not, but, of course we all know that.

Maybe I can get back to a place of balance. I just have to get out of this pit of fire ants.

I know the universe is speaking to me. I hear you, although, I may be taking some liberties with your inability to be perfectly clear (when in fact you may have been absolutely clear)?

Dear Liz,

I didn't like Eat, Love, Pray the book (yup, I liked the movie). I couldn't get past your voice, it was just too passive for me at the time I suppose. I didn't read anything of yours again until recently and then, I binged City of Girls, The Signature of All Things, and, just today, Big Magic.

I had seen your Ted Talk years ago and you were redeemed to me as an intellect. I saw the you past ELP. I connected inside and out to that talk (though, I did not run out and get Big Magic, not yet).

What am I trying to say?

Two days ago, I wrote you an email asking for friendship. I did so because sometimes you have to take chances or else how will you ever know? I am so want to surround myself with like-minded souls. I didn't have anywhere to send this email however and I hated the thought of it being just another DM you might skip in your Insta. So, I let it go. I'm a reasonable woman, I knew deep down it was a cathartic exercise as much as anything else.

And then today, after coming in from a long walk while listening to your audio book of Big Magic, just trying to regroup my priorities and direction, I sat on the couch and opened up Instagram, chatted with my daughters there, and then noticed you had a live story happening. "Huh" thought I.

I clicked on it (it was near the end) and there you were saying "just send an email asking for a friend!" My email had had the subject line "Coffee and Words #askingforafriend"

I mean, I had just taken Big Magic out of my ears. You can see where I'm going with this, right? No sooner had you said that though, you followed with "but, don't email me! laughter. I'm not going to email you back laughter. Ask other people!"

Ahh, Universe you funny, funny sly little big thing.

However, I can't risk not taking a chance. Something tells me you might click on the link I slip in your DM's. If not, Universe, no harm, no foul. I can't say you didn't explicitly have Liz tell me that very thing.

And Liz, if you find yourself here and you've made it this far. The name of this blog is not a sassy nickname meant to personify me (I am loath to imagine you thinking of me as "sassy blogger"), it's how I take my coffee.  If you find yourself curious about that, let me know and I can send you an email I wrote recently that explains it all :P

Yours Truly

PS: I know my odds here and rest assured, I will find my people, I will write and will write for me, for the love of story telling, and for the love of Lemke and the land from which she comes, which - no surprise here - is ripe with natural magic, a sneaky nightmare of a tragedy, and three sisters, their houses, and a wolf.