Biggest and Brightest

It's funny where and when inspiration will hit you. Not doodling around town all day, talking about moms and friends and family and kindergarten. Not even walking through the cemetery by St. Elmo with Megan, or riding up Lookout and soaking up the mountain and its history, the gorgeous houses and trees that surrounded the road.

But rather, it comes after the day sinks in and I can't possibly twitter my way through the rainy Friday evening. The hulu movies I attempted to watch were dumbed down to free softcore (and bad) "romantic" stories. It wasn't too hard to figure out how they got such high ratings. Convinced my eyes were "too weary" to pick up Kafka that's been collecting dust beside my bed, I pressed on via the web. Must. Be. Something. to discover this evening. When really, the affirmation came this afternoon.

Living at home can be a rocky place. The mental and emotional anguish of feeling like a "failure," of succumbing to silly and fantastic ideas that left me financially strapped, weighs heavy on my psyche. A judger, I fear what others will think of me, specifically my kin. This can be taxing for all involved, especially my giant ego.

This afternoon, though, Megan picked me up in her gold car and we wheeled around town. I drank enough caffeine for both of us as the conversation opened up. We bubbled on about what we've been doing, what turns out lives have taken since our last encounter awhile back. Gossip about family, relationships, folks we knew growing up. There was a casual give and take, not caring what the fellow coffee shop patrons thought of our stories of personal revolutions. It just flowed. She's a feeler, fully involved, and a lover and a healer. We talked about sex, our parents, death, divorce, sexuality in the South, generations, art.

So with one successful freelance gig in the works, my bummer attitude about living at home faded a little bit. It's manageable, and I certainly am fortunate to be well fed, well loved and looked after. To reconnect with a childhood friend, someone with whom I attended 12 years of school, only to discover we have more in common than ever before? That is a true gift. It's what Chattanooga represents though: history intertwined with new, creative life.

Now I need to channel that and challenge myself to make this work. It's as if I discovered my dream job. To live and work in a community that is bursting with new energy and is a hotbed of artistic startups with established support. And to use my skills, which have been limited to editing thus far, to use my writing to aid in the communication of this work? That is what I want to do for work. It involves computers, yes, but it also involves (we should hope) some nonprofit work and more freelance opportunities. Hopefully to include an article on Keith's church...

Church. Saturday. Bikes! Must sleep and rise early to catch thousands of riders in the 3 state 3 mountain ride. Poor folks gonna have chafing in places they didn't know could chafe.