Passion 2.0

My passion has, like a failed alcoholic, been reborn. Rather than being dipped backwards in a pool of warm water, though, I’m sitting my ass down and forcing myself to write. It’s as simple as that and yet for years I’ve ignored this part of me.

I was in a doctor’s office waiting room when I was about 7 and saw a baby with an extra pinky. The pinky was a chubby baby finger like the rest of the hand, but it was hanging on by just a fleshy thread. My mom told me it would either die and fall off on its own or a doctor would need to operate to remove it. I’m not sure if my mom went to medical school, but she sure made this analogy convenient for me. My passion is slightly shriveled, turning bluish-purple and I was until very recently ready to chew through the fleshy thread. Unlike an extra pinky, though, this passion that I’ve ignored for so long is only going to make the rest of my life better. Sure, it won’t give me an upper-hand on the monkey bars like an extra digit might, but I also didn’t have to keep my hand in my pocket on first dates.

I expect challenges and criticism. I hope for quality and fulfillment. I will settle for wealth and fanfare.