When All the Balls Fall

When I was a little girl I knew exactly what I was going to be when I grew up. I was going to be the best damn jester in King Arthur’s court. I taught myself how to juggle, walk on my hands and tell terrible jokes. I was determined. Clopin from the Hunchback of Notre Dame became my idol and by God I was going to be just like him when I grew up. Yeah, that’s right, Clopin. Did you even know he was given a name in the movie? By God, I did and I knew all of his lines. My friend would be Esmeralda and dance around and I would be Clopin and sort of roll on the floor in the garage.

There are worse idols to have when you’re 8.

But then one day, someone, and I can’t remember who it was (probably my sister), told me that King Arthur was dead and there was no court. That no one was a jester anymore.

 

No, it’s cool. That’s just all of my hopes and dreams crashing down around me. No biggie.

 

So I was devestated, stopped juggiling, or doing poor acrobatics and sulked for weeks. I would never be like my beloved Clopin. I was hearbroken about this for quite some time. In fact I think I’m STILL heartbroken about this.

So, what in the world does this have to do with anything?

Well, I recently (as in within the past week) have had to quietly not submit stories to two anthologies I was very, very excited about. Why? Because I tried to juggle again.

No, not with clubs or even bean bags, but with ‘to-dos’. I picked up too many things and they fell on my face, hard. My ego is bruised and my pride is limping at this point. I still think I’m a little jester that can keep all the balls in the air, and truth of the matter is that plain and simple I can’t. I cannot always do all the things I want to do, I can’t say yes to everything, help everyone, hang out with all my friends, and take classes.

I didn’t study nearly enough for my final because I was doing other things, made other commitments. I didn’t get together a strong enough story for either anthology because I messed up, and as much as I want to blame school or work or any other number of things, the blame falls squarely on me.

Maybe I can be a little bit of a jester still, juggle my work, school, life, writing, blogging, conventions, but maybe I can’t juggle it all every month. I have to remember that and learn that ‘no’ word that I have such a hard time with. Maybe this is me reminding myself that there are no courts and jesters are long gone, but mainly it’s just me saying ‘Hey, you’re overbooked! Put something down or else that flaming sword you’re juggiling is going to hit you in the eye!’

 

 

Note: The sad jester is from one of my favorite places on the whole internet: http://preciousmiseries.com/ Go check it out and bask in the cuteness.

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