Run*

Sometimes I think that the problem with me is that I keep leaving everything behind to start anew. For all its excitement, it always seems a bit unsustainable… like every new adventure is just putting off the inevitable (and sometimes quite desirable) "settling down". These are the times when I feel the ties between me and the people I care about stretching and fraying, and it makes me sad. 

Then there are the other times. The times when I think the real problem is that I haven't gone far enough. That I should run faster and farther until every. Single. Tie. isn't just fraying and fading but broken. Gone forever. Never to be repaired or replaced. That only in the freedom of absolute, desperate loneliness will I ever find a modicum of peace. 

There is a voice inside me of defiance. It screams out against all the people who want me to be something other than what I am, all of the pressures within and without that bend me into twisted shapes not my own. A voice that says ENOUGH. I am only this, and I am fucking FANTASTIC at it. Enough. 

But there is another voice. Quiet, insistent… it just barely whispers, but it never stops. Only one word: run. 

Run.

RUN.

*I wrote this a few years ago... Sometimes I worry about how relevant it still is. 

If I were an Artist

Autumn afternoons make me wish I were an artist… the slanted light, fire-bright leaves against an impossibly blue sky, the weather getting brisk while the life within it slows down… I feel like there’s a lot to capture.

Artists can put less obvious things into their work, too. So I could write you a sonnet about a walk in the woods on a clear fall day, but leave you feeling the softness of the blanket I curl up in afterwards, the warmth of the mug in my hands, a curl of sweet smelling smoke from the contents within. I could paint you a picture of a fire in the hearth and a single window looking out on vibrant trees and somehow also make you hear the laughter of your loved ones as they gather in the shorter, cooler days, chasing away the dark and cold with stories and delicious food and by simply being within arm’s reach. I could oh-so-effortlessly slide everything I think and feel into every stroke of the brush or scratch of the pen and smile, because I know you’ve felt and thought the very same things.

If I were an artist.

Instead, I’ll shiver a few more moments in the rapidly cooling air of a perfect, golden day, thinking of the paintings, poems, and symphonies I wish I could make to share this moment with you across the intervening miles. I’ll laugh at the clumsy, mundane, inadequate words you’ll get instead--if I even remember to mention it to you.

Because I’m not an artist, and you are far, far away.

On "Giving up"

I quit my job today. Well, gave one month’s notice, anyway. It’s hard… maybe (definitely) harder than it should be. This is maybe the second or third job that I can remember quitting just because I didn’t like it/couldn’t make it work. I’ve had plenty of jobs, but they were seasonal or contractual, or things that I left behind because I had to move across the country/planet. To not have a reason for leaving beyond my basic needs (sleep) and emotional state makes me feel like a bit of a failure.

A story: When I was a kid, I was kind of a precocious little brat. Because I tended to catch onto things pretty quickly, whenever I came up against something I didn’t “get” right away, I would give up. And maybe cry. Because I was a brat. This went on for awhile till my parents sat down and had a talk (or several) with me about how I couldn’t just quit stuff because I wasn’t good right away, and that working hard for something makes it even more rewarding when it finally does click, etc. It took awhile to sink in, but I learned perseverance eventually. Now, though, I’m terrified of being that person again, of throwing in the towel every time things get a little hairy… so I tend to stick to unfortunate circumstances WAY LONGER than I should. Taking too many classes? Suck it up, pansy! Relationship falling apart around your ears? Try harder! Job slowly sucking the life out of you and making you doubt your self worth? Deal with it; it’s not THAT hard!

The point is, I have trouble telling the difference between perseverance and stupidity, giving up and strategic retreat. I probably always will. Luckily, I also have a lot of people who are willing to help me navigate the murkier waters of life and to assure me that quitting doesn’t always make you a quitter. Overall, even though I’m sad about leaving (and still dealing with the icky emotions listed above), I’m also very relieved that an end is in sight. And I’m ready for the next adventure.