“Carry On, My Wayward Son”

Carry on, my wayward son
There’ll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don’t you cry no more…

Once I rose above the noise and confusion
Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion
I was soaring ever higher
But I flew too high

Masquerading as a man with a reason
My charade is the event of the season
And if I claimed to be a wise man
It surely means I don’t know

Carry on, my wayward son
There’ll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don’t you cry no more…

I realize that if I saw the title of this post, I would think one of two things: A/ This post is sure to have something to do with the Winchester brothers, or B/ What the heck’s she talking about Kansas for?

Actually, it has to do with neither.

I know that I’ve been all but silent, but for the occasional likes and shares. I know I’ve not been social in any sense of the word. I know that conversation takes effort put forth by both parties, and I know that I’ve not been very forthcoming to any of the people that really care for me, but my mother said it so well the other day when she apologized for not taking my call [something she never does]:

“I just really didn’t feel like talking.”

Lately, I just don’t. Maybe that’s a bad thing for a writer, because apparently, being a writer means I have to be anything but what I feel like being, which is not even a social introvert. Lately, I feel as though if I say what I feel, it will be the wrong thing to do/say/think/feel. I think that if I say “this is how I feel,” then someone will say, “well, that’s YOUR fault” or “you feel that way because you’re a selfish b*tch” or “I can’t believe you’re saying this to me” or WHATEVER.

I feel damn near invisible. No, that’s not right. I feel unnecessary. I feel like that person everyone knows is there, but that no-one really takes the time to get to know. Honestly, I kind of feel like if I closed up shop, no-one would know the difference. I feel like the only reason that people at work would miss me would be because there’d be no-one to open/close the restaurant, and I kind of even feel that way here in cyberspace, too. There are a couple of exceptions, but for the most part, I really understand that video that circulated a month or so ago–the one that talked about people having 250,000 “friends.” (How would a person go about maintaining that many relationships?)

Maybe I feel like this because I’m nearing the big 4-0 in March. Maybe it’s because I’ve never been someone else’s heart. Maybe it’s because I never did get to be a mom like I wanted when I was a kid. Maybe it’s because not having a family of my own [life partner/wife/kid/et cetera] means not having ANYONE at the end. Maybe it’s because I’m not as talented as I wish I was and I’m beginning to wonder if I should find a new career choice. Maybe it’s because I’m angry at myself for missing the last opening night for a Tolkien movie and still not having put forth the effort to see it. I don’t know! I don’t know much of anything and I’m not even sure why I’m telling anyone this, but I haven’t updated this since that ill-fated Christmas special I’m ashamed to say did absolutely nothing to help my kind collaborator, Miss Leona Windwalker.

Before that, I think, aside from reblogs, it had been at least a month since I did anything, and so I felt an explanation was needed.

I haven’t made any rash decisions, and I don’t plan on it. I just know that this jumbled up whine-fest is the best explanation I can come up with, so if there are people out there that read this little thing, know that I’ve been listening to Carry On, in Kansas form and in 200th Episode Supernatural form in effort to build myself back up, but that it may take a concerted effort to do so.

Author: M. LeAnne Phoenix

M. LeAnne Phoenix would tell you that the worst time of her life was the two years that she attempted to take off from writing. If you asked her to explain exactly why she did such a thing, you would most likely get the mad attempt to arch an eyebrow like her dad and then a shake of the head as she told you it was unlucky to speak of such things. Suffice it to say, it will never happen again! Born and raised in Fort Worth, Texas in the mid-1970's, Ms. Phoenix was young and wild (and even free!) during the crazy wondrous decade known as the 1980's and the even crazier but now grungy decade of the 1990's. Music is second only to the muses that live and breathe to fill her mind with beautiful men, and music always helps them to tell their stories. She is never without her iPod or her computer no matter where she goes, although, she does like to hike and take pictures of the sky and the moon, and even the occasional shot of the sun through the branches of a tree. An avid cat lover, Ms. Phoenix has been owned by many throughout her life, though her current owner is one Gypsy Jo, who really would like for her to step away from the keyboard and pay her some attention! After all, hasn't she earned it? M. LeAnne Phoenix can be found on Facebook at www.facebook.com/mleannephoenix. As this is her first real foray into the professional world of writing, there will be more social media to come.

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