January Thoughts
Forgive me, I can't abandon the event of a year-change within two weeks or so of its occurrence. I realize it's hugely cliche to get all reflective during the first days of a new calendar, but I offer up this defense: I'm always reflective.
One year ago in January. '06 had arrived in the middle of a series of nightmares wherein all my teeth fell out. In one dream, my teeth fell out AND the world ended - an obvious "you must change your life" from my subconscious. I thought at first that all the mental spinning was an effect of unhappiness, dissatisfaction, or confusion (plainly), but then I admitted that, more than anything, it was anger. I was reading a book where the main character was angry. His anger caused him to leave a perfectly decent life and cross an ocean. I wanted to cross an ocean.
There were very specific reasons why I'd become so angry. One was that whatever I came up with as a possibility for changing my life, I couldn't actually do. I wanted to, but I couldn't. It was mostly about money: the best, worst, and most heartbreaking reason people have for feeling stuck. I'd defied financial prudence before, a year prior, quitting my job with a three-digit bank balance and no new opportunity waiting. So I already knew about the ride that comes with doing that - the greatest confidence you've ever had, the highest high, and the crash. I knew that it had been a good move in the long, long run (I'd escaped an industry I wasn't made to work in), but it had also resulted in the now. The world-ending, teeth-of-sand, freaked-out now. I was hesitant to do it again.*
My frustration with feeling stuck built to an alarming height. I devised a new escape route every morning and I'd written a detailed list of pros and cons by the end of the day. I went out in public dressed to teach myself the lesson of nobody-cares-what-you-do: black lycra capris, an electric pink shirt, a suit jacket, striped socks up to my knees, and red loafers. (I was right, nobody stared.) I spent days off entirely in bed, or in an armchair, just trying not to wake up too much. I was like a part-time manic depressive, always dipping and flailing, but managing, for the most part, to keep it under wraps. "Oh yes, the salmon is very fresh. What can I get you to drink this evening?" You have to be pretty wrapped up, as a waitress.
And that was the start of '06. Two thoughts floor me today: how different my life is now, and how close it is to being exactly the same. A few decisions and an adventure later, my job, daily routine, and attitude are completely different. My worries are all the same. I've gone from one perfectly decent life to another perfectly decent life, and I understand, I do still understand, why sometimes that makes people angry.
*I would, in fact, do it again. Five months later. The whole thing - no money, no job, and just to make things interesting, a plane ticket to Europe. Turns out, I'm ballsy.
One year ago in January. '06 had arrived in the middle of a series of nightmares wherein all my teeth fell out. In one dream, my teeth fell out AND the world ended - an obvious "you must change your life" from my subconscious. I thought at first that all the mental spinning was an effect of unhappiness, dissatisfaction, or confusion (plainly), but then I admitted that, more than anything, it was anger. I was reading a book where the main character was angry. His anger caused him to leave a perfectly decent life and cross an ocean. I wanted to cross an ocean.
There were very specific reasons why I'd become so angry. One was that whatever I came up with as a possibility for changing my life, I couldn't actually do. I wanted to, but I couldn't. It was mostly about money: the best, worst, and most heartbreaking reason people have for feeling stuck. I'd defied financial prudence before, a year prior, quitting my job with a three-digit bank balance and no new opportunity waiting. So I already knew about the ride that comes with doing that - the greatest confidence you've ever had, the highest high, and the crash. I knew that it had been a good move in the long, long run (I'd escaped an industry I wasn't made to work in), but it had also resulted in the now. The world-ending, teeth-of-sand, freaked-out now. I was hesitant to do it again.*
My frustration with feeling stuck built to an alarming height. I devised a new escape route every morning and I'd written a detailed list of pros and cons by the end of the day. I went out in public dressed to teach myself the lesson of nobody-cares-what-you-do: black lycra capris, an electric pink shirt, a suit jacket, striped socks up to my knees, and red loafers. (I was right, nobody stared.) I spent days off entirely in bed, or in an armchair, just trying not to wake up too much. I was like a part-time manic depressive, always dipping and flailing, but managing, for the most part, to keep it under wraps. "Oh yes, the salmon is very fresh. What can I get you to drink this evening?" You have to be pretty wrapped up, as a waitress.
And that was the start of '06. Two thoughts floor me today: how different my life is now, and how close it is to being exactly the same. A few decisions and an adventure later, my job, daily routine, and attitude are completely different. My worries are all the same. I've gone from one perfectly decent life to another perfectly decent life, and I understand, I do still understand, why sometimes that makes people angry.
*I would, in fact, do it again. Five months later. The whole thing - no money, no job, and just to make things interesting, a plane ticket to Europe. Turns out, I'm ballsy.
posted by Tracy at 6:43 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home