Thoughts and things

Posted on Mar 25, 2015 in Blog
I haven’t written in here in what feels like forever.

It has not been forever. It has only been one month, a little over.

I am so tired of the cold. Even though the snow is gone (hopefully for a long time) there’s still a chill. Two weeks ago we had a Sunday where the temperature zoomed up into spring and you could see the difference in the people walking by you on the street. People were smiling. They looked looser, more excited, happy.

So many times I want to open my mouth and say things, these days, and I always end up thinking what’s the point. 

I mean, not in the sense that I question whether there’s a point to having your voice heard, putting what’s turning over and over in your head actually out into the world. I know there’s value in that. Something special about it, something that matters.

I just — I don’t know. I’m working so much now and making actual money — money that isn’t instantly gone to pay loans and debt and food and rent and all of those other things, although I’m still paying those things too, it’s just that now there is more room — and all of this is great, it is wonderful, and I am so grateful, I truly am, but I have no time to myself now where I’m not exhausted, and so I think: why bother with anything else? Why bother working so hard on things that might not see the world when you can just dig into your comfortable job–your unexpectedly interesting job that has put you in the path of so many fascinating people–and buy bookshelves for your house instead?

Why work hard for a chance at something when you can work hard for a definite something? Doesn’t that make more sense? Doesn’t that add up?

And I know, I know. You build a career, one story at a time. One word at a time. No one said this would be easy. (In fact, most people say it sucks.) You do it because you love it. Etc. etc. Or, you do it because it’s so much a part of you now that you can’t see any other way.

A few weeks ago one of the nurses at my work said that her greatest fear in life is for her daughter to grow up and decide she wants to be an artist.

I laughed. And then I went into the bathroom and cried a little, because she is right, because I’d have argued against her for so many years and now I just don’t have the energy.

Facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmail

1 Comment

  1. Steph
    March 26, 2015

    I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Because I understand so completely, it feels like, and am in the same place. Also it's snowing so heavily right now, the flakes as big as my palm, so heavy and thick, the grass I moved to sit in front of for mental relief now again covered. Sigh. Had I the power, we'd be whisked immediately to Scotland, if only for a day, for magic.

    BIG HUG, my lovely. xo