54 Days

In 54 days, I will be 35 years old. One day after that, I will be closer to forty than to thirty. Growing old doesn't bother me. Dying before I've grown old does. That's the biggest fear of all - that I will die before I get my shit together. Before I publish my novel. Before I find my love. Before I have a baby.

You'd think, given that I have fifty-four days left, I would be working on the book right now. I should be working on it non-stop. I should have been working on it non-stop during the many, many months during which I've been out of work.

I hate that I'm not. I hate whatever it is that holds me back. What do I do instead of write? At the moment, I'm rewatching Letters to Juliet. The other night, I drooled over the NY Times real estate section. I plan what to do with my millions before I have them, all the while reminding myself that nothing leads to nothing. That's a song, isn't it? And now I interrupt my post to google the lyrics, since I am incapable of letting those things go.

I wish I were one of those nauseatingly gung-ho people you read about occasionally who make it look so easy. Oh, that dream of mine? You know, climb Mount Everest in my knickers even though I'm blind and deaf and bow-legged and I lost three of my toes before 1,500 feet? Noooooo problem. Piece of cake. Why? Because I'm a doer. I do things. Leap tall buildings with a single, determined bound? Done. Finish a novel? Hell, I'll write TEN.

Excuse me - I think I just vomited a bit in my mouth.

You know me. I have my dreams (two Teds, two Sweets, and a Chuck in the last week or so - nothing solid enough to post, although in one dream I could seriously feel Ted's too-solid tongue when he kissed me), I watch my movies, I collect the words and the love that I find around me, since I have none of my own. Sad, sad story. Cue the violins.

I did look through the book today, though - all fifteen chapters. Too much of it sucks right now, it's depressing. However, I am determined. If nothing else, I will finish the rough draft in 54 days. I will deal with the suck. Chapter one out of the five I have left must be done by Wednesday. Thirteen days a piece for the four left after that.

Maybe I am one of those people after all. Ew.