Sometimes Letting Go Is The Hardest Thing
The hardest thing to do in life sometimes is realize that a dream you are holding on to has to, for lack of a better term, die.
Recently, I think I reached that point.
I think it is time for me to let go of the pipedream of being a paid professional sportswriter.
To be fair, I'm not really letting go of it as much as I'm facing down the fact that I simply don't have the time or the energy to devote to the pursuit anymore.
If I was going to make a true go of it, I would've done more to pursue it during my most recent time of unemployment. I had (what turned out to be) 23 months to get Pigskin Punditry built into something more than an occasional place to rant and vent and discuss hypothetical realignment scenarios that (sometimes) later came true.
I was more focused, though, on getting myself back to work. And yes, it did take 23 months for that to occur—about 22 months longer than I initially expected.
And yes, I am probably romanticizing the notion of hitting the road each weekend in the fall and visiting all kinds of college towns that I have never had the chance to see before and soaking in the atmosphere on Fridays and Saturdays and covering games. But as someone who loves to travel, and eat, and enjoys walking around college campuses, it's something I really would have taken to and loved.
But the breakthrough hasn't happened. I don't write to have a loyal audience. I'm not snarky or particularly funny; I tend to be more serious when I write than anything else. I prefer balance, patience and reason over trying to come up with a silly #HOTSPORTSTAKE, and I often don't feel like I get the joke from time to time.
Again, though, the lack of production all falls on me, as do all of my shortcomings as a writer. I didn't do enough to cultivate things the way I probably would have/could have/should have when I had the time, and since returning to work, I just don't feel like I have the time.
So I metaphorically let the dream float away, joining plenty of other wishes and hoes that I have had to bid adieu to for a variety of reasons. It stings each time a little, but eventually you get over it.
It's part of growing up.
Recently, I think I reached that point.
I think it is time for me to let go of the pipedream of being a paid professional sportswriter.
To be fair, I'm not really letting go of it as much as I'm facing down the fact that I simply don't have the time or the energy to devote to the pursuit anymore.
If I was going to make a true go of it, I would've done more to pursue it during my most recent time of unemployment. I had (what turned out to be) 23 months to get Pigskin Punditry built into something more than an occasional place to rant and vent and discuss hypothetical realignment scenarios that (sometimes) later came true.
I was more focused, though, on getting myself back to work. And yes, it did take 23 months for that to occur—about 22 months longer than I initially expected.
And yes, I am probably romanticizing the notion of hitting the road each weekend in the fall and visiting all kinds of college towns that I have never had the chance to see before and soaking in the atmosphere on Fridays and Saturdays and covering games. But as someone who loves to travel, and eat, and enjoys walking around college campuses, it's something I really would have taken to and loved.
But the breakthrough hasn't happened. I don't write to have a loyal audience. I'm not snarky or particularly funny; I tend to be more serious when I write than anything else. I prefer balance, patience and reason over trying to come up with a silly #HOTSPORTSTAKE, and I often don't feel like I get the joke from time to time.
Again, though, the lack of production all falls on me, as do all of my shortcomings as a writer. I didn't do enough to cultivate things the way I probably would have/could have/should have when I had the time, and since returning to work, I just don't feel like I have the time.
So I metaphorically let the dream float away, joining plenty of other wishes and hoes that I have had to bid adieu to for a variety of reasons. It stings each time a little, but eventually you get over it.
It's part of growing up.
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