I had a good hard think on what it is that I’m avoiding and I came up empty. If you had asked me two or three years ago, there would be a whole host of things with which I could have answered, but now, not so much. I’m not actually avoiding anything at the moment.
For years, I was avoiding getting a new job that paid me a reasonable salary and didn’t treat me like a number, but then I got laid off. Problem solved. Now, I have no choice but to find a better job since I’d be hard pressed to find a worse one.
I was avoiding finishing my memoir, autobiography, life’s story or whatever you’d like to call it, but I checked that off the list a few months back. Granted, it still needs a lot of work, but at least it’s complete.
For a long time, I avoided writing, or at least finishing, anything at all. I would start projects and never go back to them, but lately, I haven’t been doing that either. I wrote three chapters yesterday. I’d still like to go back and finish all the stories I’ve started, but I’m not actively avoiding them; I’m just engaged elsewhere.
So, I guess what I’m really avoiding now is the Grim Reaper. If I were to die right now, I’d be pissed that I hadn’t finished more. I’d have only a few completed works as an eternal monument to the awesomeness that is me. It’s not enough; it’s never enough. I want a full oeuvre when I go. I want to leave a mark in the form of words. I want to win the world with words of wonder and whimsy. If I died before I could do that, it would make me very, very sad. And all the people out there who couldn’t read the notions locked in my brain wouldn’t even know what they were missing.