Today I am like the hamster that runs and runs and runs on its wheel, never getting anywhere. Today I am the dog that chases it’s tail, never managing to catch it but never managing to ignore it either. Today I am the donkey that only moves when the carrot is dangled, but never reaches it of its own volition, always just a step behind.
I’m feeling melancholy and can’t shake it, the parts of my life not quite fitting together into the picture I want it to be. The bad parts, the annoying parts, the clumsy parts – those are the parts that are supposed to be ‘worth it’, something to be powered through like a chicken crossing the road to get to the glory on the other side. But I don’t have any of that stuff, the stuff that makes it all worth it. I don’t have a husband or a child, no family that gives me something to be happy and thankful for everyday no matter how miserable everything else might seem. It doesn’t seem like much but this lack of perspective is jarring.
What I have – I have a job and I have an unrealistic expectation of a dream, that’s it. Telling people it’s “just a job” doesn’t work as well when you don’t view it as a means to an end, when it isn’t something that just serves some other valiant purpose. And I can’t be one of those people who doesn’t give it 110%, who doesn’t try my best or hardest at all times. How I wish that I could stroll in at a competently fine 82% and coast on by. Because that extra effort costs more than its worth, caring too much always does.
Because none of this gets me anywhere. You’re almost exceptional, so very close, but not yet. You’re doing an awesome job, work the hardest around, but its technically your job anyway so thanks for playing. Sure, you don’t have a boyfriend or a relationship but hey, two years ago you went on a really nice vacation to Nashville, that must cheer you up.
And then I get home from the job I give more attention than it probably deserves and I ignore my dream as much as possible. I’m better, loads better than I used to be, but I still don’t commit myself to it as much as I should. I can’t manage to commit myself to anything. I can’t even commit myself to writing in this blog.
I told my friend last night that I would go sky diving with her if there ever came a time when you could walk into a bookstore and see my name in there. I’m afraid of heights. What was the point of that?