I felt so out of place, sensed in my bones that I did not belong, and feared that if I didn’t find my way home quickly, I would end up trapped there forever.
I was, of course, at work.
Now work is not usually such a foreign place to me, but I had been off on Friday and had missed work Wednesday because of car issues.
Without a doubt, thought, the office seemed so different to me today.
I think it had to do with how I spent my long weekend.
I got into a rhythm of living an entirely different life. Every day, I slept in, went for a long run, cooked a huge breakfast, and then spent the day writing, reading a great book, watching the Yankees, and going for walks.
I worked on the rewrite of my new screenplay, had a great conversation with a friend who was rewriting her screenplay, wrote for the blog, and had a couple of long chats with Danny about some new responsibilities for The Nite Show (I’m really exciting about this and hope it happens!).
I was in full writer mode with a minor in fitness.
Basically, I was living the life I’ve always wanted.
Bouncing back and worth between the screenplay, the blog, and The Nite Show had me fully engaged as Writer Guy. There was never a dull moment all weekend because the creative juices were constantly flowing.
When I needed a break from writing, I’d go for a long run or walk. I was constantly exercising either my brain or my body.
It was perfect.
An entirely different world from sitting at a desk for eight hours, hardly moving, rarely having a creative thought, and sulking as life passes me by.
When I had to report to my desk this morning, and leave all my creative ideas back at The House on the Hill, I felt like a complete stranger.
The land around me looked foreign.
Where was my laptop? Where were the notes I’d scribbled down for the next couple of scenes in the screenplay? Where were my post-it notes of blog post ideas? Why was the phone ringing relentlessly? Who were all these people asking me so many questions?
I had on my sneakers, so the urge to bolt for the door and run until I found myself someplace more familiar was overwhelming.
At one point, I swear I could hear my internal Writer Guy let out a long sigh of defeat. Immediately after that, it’s like a window slammed closed in my brain and the constant flow of new story ideas stopped without any warning.
I was trapped in this strange land, and I didn’t feel quite myself.
Did this mean a new me is beginning to emerge?
We already know he’s skinnier, healthier, and a bit more positive. Is he also a full time writer? A man who chases down his dream and gets to live it?
Even tonight, I’ve collected over 6,000 steps since I’ve emigrated from the strange land. I’ve been out on the porch writing this post while also engaged in online conversations about writing with my screenwriting friend and a writer friend in England.
This is my new normal. This is the new, true me.
I am at home. I am happy. Hopefully, I can eventually stop going off to that strange land every day.
I no longer want to be a stranger in my own life. This is exactly who and where I need to be…