ReInventing Myself

I am working hard to reinvent myself.

I am a writer. That's all I got. I'm trying to break into the world of copywriting for real. I've done it before and got paid for it, so I know this is not a pipe dream. The ultimate goal is to segue into creative writing.

Too ambitious for a 69 year old? I have no choice.

I wish I could collect every thought that goes through my head when I sit in the recliner. Some dark and self-destructive, some delusional and self-serving, some realistic and hopeful. I should corral these mind meanderings and publish them in a book, so you can render a final judgment on whether I am a candidate for straitjacket therapy, or a human being who has a genuine shot at redemption.

Sitting in the sloth chair recently, and my reality flashed across my brain like a glaring neon sign: I will never be able to retire. I knew this subconsciously, but admitting it was too painful. And humiliating. So my brain took over and did it for me.

Short of winning the lottery, I will not be able to afford it. The work I am pursuing will enable us to have a little more security, hopefully. And at least I'll be able to do it from home. But unless somebody pays me $10 million to write a white paper about the subtle joys of the HVAC business, I will be chipping away for the rest of my life. A sobering truth.

Anyway, I did my homework. Found a reputable copywriting website to apply to. I spent somewhere around 15 hours over a period of a couple of weeks putting everything together to complete a thorough application. I had to write articles, provide information, answer questions, take a test - this shit is the real deal. Christ, some of the test questions were written in a copywriting language foreign to me - I had to research the topic just to have a shot at answering the question correctly. I blew a lot of them.

But I tried. I fucking tried.

And that's the point. Getting old is not for the weak. I am trying to make myself strong, to fight back. I am exercising like a fiend to reintroduce health to my body; I am working hard to find a new way to survive financially. I am not going out a loser. At least not without fighting back.

I submitted the application yesterday; they take up to a week to approve or reject.

I will not blow smoke up your ass, or my own. I waited until I did all the work before talking about this. If I get rejected you'll hear about it. And I will move on. If I get hired, you'll hear about it.

I am a dreamer, but the life I created for myself is biting back. I painted myself into a corner; I am trying to fight my way out of it.

There are always consequences to your actions, and life is not gentle about making a point.