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  • Writer's pictureD. G. Martin

Friday: Where Drivel Goes to Thrive?

Picture of shallow sea with the words "Have a Nice Weekend!" in a blocked font.
Be honest. How many times do you secretly wish they don't, so you have stuff to gossip about on Monday?

It's been a week. I suspect we can all say that.

I think too often most of us tend to forget that we're not the only ones trying to get through the week. Let's try, eh?

Okay, that's as soapbox as this one will get. Just trying to help you if you need it. My gift to you, if you will take it as such. I've been not feeling well most of the week, a sinus infection and incredibly touchy stomach has made it all kind of a woozy motion picture floating from meal to meal asking the question, "How nauseated will this one make me feel?"

But that's not what I'm here to talk about, either. I managed that other stuff. What follows is really the meat of the week.

This week I had to resurrect a part of my professional life that I thought was behind me. It was unexpected and actually a profoundly impactful experience.

The facts are pretty sparse. An old editor contacted me about something to do with a piece I wrote a while back and invited me to participate in pitching ideas for some upcoming stuff. Nothing guaranteed, not really an inside track. But it was nice to be remembered and invited to participate in something that I thought was behind me and gone from my professional life.

Now that's the thing I want to hit on most. Nothing, really, has happened yet. I don't know if anything ever will. But the feelings, the bit of trouble and heartache, and all of the countless hours spent over the years being involved in what I thought I'd left behind has left me a bit exhausted, beyond the physical exhaustion of my rumbling tummy and stuffed up sinus cavity.

But here's the thing. I can't just let it go now. I can't let it pass me by and continue down the path I had planned out. Detours are the point of life, aren't they? I'm beginning to think life is more about the detours than the plans anyway. But that's a different drivel.

Maybe in the coming weeks and months, I'll sit here and realize that drudging it all back up was for naught, and it should have stayed buried. Maybe I'll be glad for the memories. Maybe it will be be the best thing I've ever done.

The best part it will probably, when it's all figured out, be none of those things.

That's kind of the point, isn't it? The weekend, I mean. Right now it's all possibility and no mistakes. Nothing to regret yet.

Resurrect something this weekend. An old project. A book you never finished. A friendship that's lapsed for whatever reason. Whatever it is, take a detour down that path.

I am not encouraging total anarchy here. No way. Not me. Why would I do such a thing?

Before you call me for bail money, check to make sure I'm not in the next cell over.


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