Not long ago, at work, someone asked me about other things I've done. As there REALLY wasn't time to go into it all, I just told her to find and read my resume if she was really all that interested. I seriously doubt she's done that, and don't particularly care.
The effect of her questions was to remind me that I DO have a resume, and that it reflects something besides flat-lining.
Thinking about it, I remembered that in the last real job I had my line was not flat. It went up and then up again as the responsibilities and rewards increased. The job before that? Same thing. The position before that? Likewise.
I had to ask myself: "Self, WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT'S HOLY ARE YOU DOING?"
Well now.
That's a hell of a question to be asking myself at this stage in the game, at this time of my life.
I mean, I'm a little old gramma lady, right?
By now I'm supposed to have already learned everything and am supposed to have ANSWERS, not QUESTIONS. Especially about my own life for cryin' out loud.
Not finding a reasonable answer to myself, I floundered around in my mind for a while, unable to find my balance.
This Dakota stint was supposed to be five months long. Come May, it will be six years.
WHAT?
You heard me.
ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR EVER-LOVIN' MIND?
Doubtless that's exactly where I've been.
Next question?
Okay, I've regained enough of my equilibrium to be able to not fall over as I take a good long look at my remains.
Fortunately for me, those remains haven't decayed quite to the point where they're unrecognizable. Almost, but not quite. I can still find residual indications of intelligence, creativity, and humor.
I haven't gone all the way around the bend.
Well of course not! Flat lines don't HAVE bends.
Shaddup, willya ... who asked YOU?
See, still having these internal dialogues.
ANYWAY ... as I was TRYING to say before I was so rudely interrupted ... hmmm ... where was I going with this again? ...
Oh yeah, I was figuring out that enough is enough of flat lines already.
When trying to come up with something, ANYTHING, to jolt me out of these doldrums, something springs from the logical part of my quadrilaterally balanced brain. (More on that little concept later.)
This something informs me that a PLAN would be a good idea. It tells me in no uncertain terms that I need to come up with all the components of every paper or story I've ever written: Who,What, When, Where, Why, and How.
Then that part of my brain goes quiet and I flounder around in my mind again for quite a while.
Creativity sparks and I dream for a little while of having the time and money to be able to focus on my artwork and writing, a short-lived little dream but pleasant as all get-out while it lasts.I have to support myself; I have to make a living.
I ALSO would like to have a life WORTH living, worth it to ME.
Emotion pops up with the 'Happiness Factor', and flashes of the past bring certain thoughts to the fore.
What has made me HAPPY? Truly happy?
Can I make those things re-surface? What would it take?
Instinct is a tricky thing. It's like an automatic reaction that guides you to what you don't even know that you know. Kind of hard to access at times, but worth it if you can.
At the moment I've got too much to tend to; I don't have the time at this moment to get out a pencil and paper and just go to free-writing or free-drawing or free-painting.
Even so, I already have a damned good idea what will surface when I do sit myself down to do that. Experience speaks loud and clear when it comes to that.
My hills call, and theValley calls. I will answer, but in the meantime I have to get to where I CAN answer.
Part of the 'meantime' is surviving and it's also making situations come about in which I can LIVE. Happiness is bound to be a nice perk.
But off I have to go right now to put into motion one aspect of creating such situations.
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