Knowing that I am on a bridge writing this, I will just throw over my line and see what I catch.

I went away this weekend, and when I came back, I wasn’t happy about being home. Sure, the city of Chicago has grown on me, sure there are a handful of people I care about, and sure I have three jobs that I am passionate about. Yet, I knew that as soon as the plane touched down, that my urge to get off that plane had more to do with moving forward than going home. If that makes any sense?

Everyone has told me the past few years that I consistently give too much, that I am more accommodating and understanding and tolerant of my relationships than most. I tend to give allowances where they may not really be due; though after this weekend, I am starting to doubt my backbone.

This weekend I attended a tattoo festival. I’ve come to love them. They give me an opportunity to be around people that have as much invested in skin and ink as I do. And I don’t just mean monetarily. The majority of the people I see at these conventions are there because they’ve sought after a certain artist that will be tattooing at the event. It’s just like any AWP conference I’ve been to, or music festival. You’re there because you share a common passion, a drive, an obsession, a desire that moves you more than most things.

After spending all that time going from booth to booth looking at people’s art and pictures of their livelihood inked on bodies of people I’ll never meet, I was baffled by how far away I feel not only from those that I will never meet, but even those that on the surface profess to having a “relationship” with me.

Though – the furthest relationship I have at the moment is unfortunately with my writing. My poetry has taken the proverbial backseat to hands that have almost nothing tangible to show for it. There comes a point when you just have to start making choices. And those choices may not be beneficial to anyone but yourself. But I’m a firm believer in taking care of oneself in order to take care of everyone else around you. Too bad writing and poetry have been the only formidable ailments in my past, and too bad they have been so distant.

If you’re feeling far from your writing and would like to revisit your passion, maybe look to one of our awesome one night classes this summer? You’ll probably find me in the Time Management for Writers.