Stuck

I have to go to work tonight.

Not a major event, I know, but it's eating away at me.

In the two days I've Rocked the Block London-style, I've served maybe 25 customers. Maybe. Sure, that was daylight hours and people got jobs, but still. I had to call the store last night and the report was that the tumbleweeds were rolling down the aisles. This is what happens when the sunshine comes out.

For the first time in since I've been here, I really just feel like staying where I am right now and putting fingers to keys for the duration of the night.

Actually, I finally feel like putting fingers to keys for the duration of several nights, weeks even and getting my much-talked about, much-delayed book out of my head and into words on the 19" flat screen before me. Stupid Josh Harnett, making we want to display my developing voice.

I know: WTF?

Last night I watched Resurrecting The Champ, a flick that stars the doe-eyed Harnett as a second generation sports writer who hasn't found his voice, or himself for that matter, who stumbles upon a homeless man who claims to be a former heavyweight champ. Said homeless man is portrayed by a dreadlocked Samuel L. Jackson, with a voice very similar to Tyrone Biggums. With every line, I waited for a "I don't know if you know this Joe Rogan - I Smoke Rocks!"

Anyway, point is, that over the course of this flick - which I recommend to everyone once it hits shelves Tuesday - Harnett sorts out who he is, what he is and what is most important to him. He finds his voice. Which got me to reflecting.

I have my voice, or at least I think I do. And I have my subject matter. I know my plotlines and I know the arc of the story. So what the hell is topping me?

Up until yesterday evening I would have told you any number of things: from Blockbuster to being tired to spending way to much time watching shitty Blue Jays games where they can't hit with runners in scoring position. But none of that is actually the truth.

I'm stopping me.

I'm scared to write my book.

It's way easier to sit here being the sarcastic blogger with a couple other gigs who can slag on Blockbuster Video without ever taking the chance to see if I actually have what it takes. Plus, the security of a job, regardless of how much I hate it, means that I don't ever feel a sense of panic to change things, because I can always tell myself and others that I haven't just said, "Fuck it" and reached for the brass ring because I have responsibilities.

Responsibilities aren't holding me back.

I am and I don't know how to get out of my own way.