Finding my passion again

Once or twice a year, I find myself in a rut. This happens even if things in life are moving along perfectly fine. You can probably search through the archives and find posts like this one from the past.

My best friend and I were having a conversation the other day about people like me. He’s a teacher. Basically, he said gifted students (those too smart for their own good) have trouble sticking to one thing. They get bored or want to do too many things. In short, they’re not focused enough. I’m not personally calling myself gifted; that’s just what they labeled me in school.

The conversation we had made it feel like someone truly understood how my mind works at times. It’s easy for me to lose focus. This is especially so when I don’t have structure in my life. A large part of this has to do with me having worked from home for these last few months — no structure. So, I get bored and lose motivation.

Another part of me feels like I’m living in the wrong place.

Where my passion lies

Since about the time I could hold a pencil, I’ve been writing. This mostly started because I wanted to be like my father. He’s a song writer. This has neither brought him fame nor fortune, but that’s not what it’s really about.

When I talk about losing focus, I’m mainly talking about my writing. But, my writing is a reflection of my life. If I had to choose a number one goal in life it would be publishing a novel.

I haven’t been working toward this goal as much as I’d like. I understand that there’s no one to blame but myself. I’m the type of person that says, “If you want to do something, then do it.” I try to apply this to every aspect of my life. And, I tell anyone that says they wish they could do something the same thing.

I need to simply tell myself, Write a novel, Justin.

Home is where the heart is

I left my hometown (Highland Home, Ala.) nearly six years ago for college. I had my own apartment within a month of my high school graduation. I was ready to step out of that world and never return. If you’ve grown up in a small town, you can probably relate to that feeling of needing to leave, to explore the world, to have a life outside of where you grew up.

Something’s always drawing me back there. So, I’m packing my bags. Alabama, here I come.

Part of me feels like I need to return. I feel like I’m out of touch with my roots, and that hinders my writing. I don’t know if I’ll find what I’m searching for there. There’s probably no great mystery of the soul that I’ll unravel. I understand that one can never go home again.

Alabama is peaceful. I hope it at least gives me a chance to reevaluate my goals and focus on the important things in life.

It’s not all about my goal of writing. I have a family that I haven’t truly spent time with in years. A little brother and sister that are growing up too fast. Friends that desperately need me for Friday-night bonfires.

Making a change

Since I’ve already decided on this change, I’m not going to wait around. I should be completely out of Georgia and back to smalltown Alabama in a few weeks.

Sure, I won’t be living five minutes from Wal-Mart anymore, but I can live with that. I hope.