In lieu of text. So far January has been busy. And filled with tissues and antibiotics and copious awkward coughing situations during meetings and presentations.
Still. I’m thankful that despite the rush, the overwhelmedness, the “WTF am I doing” moments, I am still alive, I get five-minute pauses, I get to fight for time to spend time with my family.
We bought a ukulele. Finally. Been contemplating this, the recent spate of busy-ness and “where’s my sense of fun” pushed the purchase. So far, I am enjoying it. A wonderful, small thing to compensate, to create assurances, to create space. Whoever said money can’t buy happiness is right, but you can also buy escape with the right tools.
I worry. About a LOT things. It’s a given. A worry-free adult is not an adult. But I breathe. I let go. I accept. I embrace the worry, for it signals movement, it signals bigger things, it signals important milestones. I worry, and I celebrate that I worry.
I feel less like a writer these days, more of a scrambler. More on that later. Pitching, conceptualizing, managing, hand-holding, so many present-tense ongoing always on never ending tasks. See paragraph above.
Am I really where I wanted to be? I muse, to myself. Of course I am. I mean, I can be happy too, in another plane. Of quiet, of musing, of less stress and more space. But I will pine for more, more, more. Which loss, which compromise am I more apt to accept? I want to figure out.
PS — Completed a dream project – wrote a story for Preview, my all-time favorite magazine and basically what awakened my sensibilities to fashion, culture, career when I was a college teen in UPLB. Thankful.