Dreams Are Just Reality Waiting to Happen

My actual writing career started with Facebook notes. I would write them every morning before work. I literally mean every morning. I had this whole routine where I couldn’t sleep so I would just lie in bed and look at the TV on mute; then I would get up, go to my computer and write a story.

The first six or seven months no one really read them and I would tag people and talk about it but nothing and then something really cool happened. I was at work and my phone started to blow up and one of the stories I’d written was getting shared. Now I would wake up and write and people would look forward to my words.

I could literally see them sitting in traffic or at their desk, drinking their coffee or orange juice and reading my words, my words. I would live and die with every like, share and comment.

Those Facebook notes at the crack of dawn got me a book deal, a blog that does good numbers and changed my life. If I’m being honest I have no idea if I would be writing on the level I am if it wasn’t for that.

I didn’t take any literature or English classes. I still confuse sentence structure and tenses to this day. I never loved writing because I thought it would be cool to have my name on a book or it might get me cute shy girls. I loved writing because it always came so easy to me and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. Don’t ever give up on your dreams.

New Seasons Always Come

I was at my grandparents yesterday and when I finished washing their cars I walked inside and my grandmother was praying. I just stood there and listened to her.

She prayed for a lot of people but mostly she prayed for my grandfather. She prayed that God heals him, that he lifts his spirits. She must have prayed for him for a good fifteen minutes.

A couple years ago he’d just had surgery and he went into a coma. It was just the 3 of us and I’d never seen my grandmother freak out before. But that night she was on the floor screaming and crying. Begging God not to take him and that’s when I realized they were each others lives for the past 50 years.

Hearing her pray yesterday reminded me of that. He sleeps a lot, doesn’t eat as much. The dialysis is draining him mentally and physically.

I see it more and more and I see how its making my grandmother. I wish I could do more but the truth is new seasons come and there is no way to fight time.

I suppose I write about these things because there’s not a her to talk to about it. I worry about them both and I worry that my wife or children will never know them.

Random Friday thoughts. I need a drink 🙂