I am not sure why disaster follows me. I released my novel in 2013, Age of Armageddon, the day of the Boston Marathon Bombing. My startup name is Author Bomb Books.
I wrote this novel while struggling with a family crisis, but not without a huge perspective change that I carry every day.
I released an event I am excited to participate in. Although it is in the title, I am no saint. We all deserve redemption. We all deserve a chance to come back and do great things.
I released, not knowing that my mother had been diagnosed with mouth cancer. She delayed telling me until today for some reason I cannot understand.
I coordinated logos I need for my startup and grand creative message and yet again, the MOAB drops in Afghanistan in an eerie coincidence. The logos were to Trademark for my next step in publishing with Author Bomb Books.
I mean I am not superstitious. Coincidences seem to happen to me like this more often than I care to share. Sometimes I wonder why I even think in this mindset or even give these coincidences another thought. Always through the tar soaked burning blanket of despair and loss. Losses in plain sight, so they linger and ache, like a shiv left in the muscle it bleeds but does not kill me. Until I am used to it, and want to leave the knife in. It keeps me mindful of what awaits us all eventually. I face mortality and time as one would look at a reflection. You go to the mirror to reflect and assess and face yourself, all you have done, everything you haven’t, and picture your own unknown end that you can almost never be ready for.
I fight because I made that reflection a promise. A promise to let it out. This imagination. I will carry my pain and wear it on my sleeve proudly tempered with hope. I do what I do and care less of money, possessions, but if I give up, I can’t go to that mirror and make an excuse or explain. The thought will be there for him to see, transparent through masks or walls we put up to feel comfortably sad.
The moral of all this is we get a life. Nothing else is guaranteed. This is perceived differently but we all get this base allowance and we build it up with our own perception and actions. It is yours until its not anymore. Nothing is etched in stone, except your tombstone.