A meditation on what has yet to come
It seems that three of my acquaintances cleaned out their closets on the same weekend I did, three weeks ago. When I commented on this, one told me that it's a sign of spring--that people want to clean their nests, move, quit their jobs, anything to get out of the rut that is winter. I believe it.
Time is moving both very quickly and very slowly right now, really both in a bad way. Since it's spring, I can't tell if it's temporary or the first tremors of an earthquake. I've got my plans all laid out now--the timely departure, the long-awaited risk taking, the plunge into something that might be more . . . more me? more successful? more exciting? maybe just more new and less safe. It could be an incredibly stupid idea, and I'm still not quite believing I'm going to go through with it. But one thing I've discovered about planning is that as long as you stick to the schedule, you never actually make a decision. You just go through all the items on the list. I imagine many unthinkable things have gone through that way, without that moment of crisis where you have to really take a step back and consider.
Actually, right now, what I'm afraid of is not doing it.
One of my main problems with subjectivity is that I can say and do incredibly stupid things without realizing it, because my machinery for evaluating reality is out of tune, or buggy, or hasn't been updated, or some nonsense. When you try to write these things it always seems ridiculous that the character shouldn't see what's obviously there right in front of her. But in Life all I see is pieces. If I could make that sound right, if I could finish this idea in my head so that I didn't hate the words the second I saw them, I would feel a lot better about everything.
Whatever they say, though, they haven't got me living in fear.
I'm just here doing research.
Time is moving both very quickly and very slowly right now, really both in a bad way. Since it's spring, I can't tell if it's temporary or the first tremors of an earthquake. I've got my plans all laid out now--the timely departure, the long-awaited risk taking, the plunge into something that might be more . . . more me? more successful? more exciting? maybe just more new and less safe. It could be an incredibly stupid idea, and I'm still not quite believing I'm going to go through with it. But one thing I've discovered about planning is that as long as you stick to the schedule, you never actually make a decision. You just go through all the items on the list. I imagine many unthinkable things have gone through that way, without that moment of crisis where you have to really take a step back and consider.
Actually, right now, what I'm afraid of is not doing it.
One of my main problems with subjectivity is that I can say and do incredibly stupid things without realizing it, because my machinery for evaluating reality is out of tune, or buggy, or hasn't been updated, or some nonsense. When you try to write these things it always seems ridiculous that the character shouldn't see what's obviously there right in front of her. But in Life all I see is pieces. If I could make that sound right, if I could finish this idea in my head so that I didn't hate the words the second I saw them, I would feel a lot better about everything.
Whatever they say, though, they haven't got me living in fear.
I'm just here doing research.