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Nov. 9th, 2007 08:16 amGoodness me. This has become an all-mommy all-the-time journal.
I had occasion the other day to dig through my archives, on the hunt for migraines-tagged entries for someone who inquired about them. What I found were, well, great things. I used to be quick and witty, insightful and fun. They were fun for me to read, anyway. YMMV
I miss it, you know, having a brain. I miss the feeling of having only stresses of my own making. They were my migraines, my battles with the bacteria, my encounters with The Wall and Joey and the kid who thought a fire extinguisher was the answer to a flaming jar of ethanol. Everything was simple, even when the computer ate my prelim. exam and my committee failed me.
I ate when I wanted to - or didn't, depending on the migraine prophylactic du mois! - I slept when I wanted to. I could spend a whole Sunday in my bathrobe, reading the paper and sipping coffee in bed. Oh, the hedonism!
This isn't a complaint, mind you, not really. This is merely an observation of how struck I am by the changes in my life.
For the first time, I don't have time to myself - or, rather, what time I have comes at a premium and is relegated to the off-hours of the day - but I am finally making use of that time to be creative and to produce. What's that old line about not appreciating something until it's gone? Waste not, want not? Now that I have no time, I'm using what time I can scrape together and maybe, just maybe, tomorrow I'll have something to show for it.
Ok, a finished afghan for Jeff or a quilt for Samuel is (or will be) nice, but taking what I've made and putting it out there for somebody else to judge and (I hope) pay for... well that's a whole other ball of wax. Will I crash and burn, or is this going to be the start of something big? Another major change in my life? My ticket out of the workaday world?
My mind is swimming with ideas and I'm anxious to have that first validation. That first hint that maybe I can do this after all.
After tomorrow's sale I'm giving myself permission to go back to working on my projects for the family. Jeff's afghan and Samuel's bedroom will come first, then Samuel's quilt and baby clothes, my cross-stitch projects (I miss them terribly) and - oh! so many ideas for other projects. I absolutely must finish what I've started. What's amazing to me is the thought that I may actually do it. There's a job, a house, four pets, a husband and (last but really first) a baby to care for, but somehow I'm managing to get in front of that sewing machine, to take the needle in hand.
Maybe this sudden push to pursue my creative dreams is my way of reaching back to grab some of that hedonism I took for granted, of holding onto my Self.
How's that for a good old-fashioned self-absorbed journal entry? No baby talk! Wow!
I had occasion the other day to dig through my archives, on the hunt for migraines-tagged entries for someone who inquired about them. What I found were, well, great things. I used to be quick and witty, insightful and fun. They were fun for me to read, anyway. YMMV
I miss it, you know, having a brain. I miss the feeling of having only stresses of my own making. They were my migraines, my battles with the bacteria, my encounters with The Wall and Joey and the kid who thought a fire extinguisher was the answer to a flaming jar of ethanol. Everything was simple, even when the computer ate my prelim. exam and my committee failed me.
I ate when I wanted to - or didn't, depending on the migraine prophylactic du mois! - I slept when I wanted to. I could spend a whole Sunday in my bathrobe, reading the paper and sipping coffee in bed. Oh, the hedonism!
This isn't a complaint, mind you, not really. This is merely an observation of how struck I am by the changes in my life.
For the first time, I don't have time to myself - or, rather, what time I have comes at a premium and is relegated to the off-hours of the day - but I am finally making use of that time to be creative and to produce. What's that old line about not appreciating something until it's gone? Waste not, want not? Now that I have no time, I'm using what time I can scrape together and maybe, just maybe, tomorrow I'll have something to show for it.
Ok, a finished afghan for Jeff or a quilt for Samuel is (or will be) nice, but taking what I've made and putting it out there for somebody else to judge and (I hope) pay for... well that's a whole other ball of wax. Will I crash and burn, or is this going to be the start of something big? Another major change in my life? My ticket out of the workaday world?
My mind is swimming with ideas and I'm anxious to have that first validation. That first hint that maybe I can do this after all.
After tomorrow's sale I'm giving myself permission to go back to working on my projects for the family. Jeff's afghan and Samuel's bedroom will come first, then Samuel's quilt and baby clothes, my cross-stitch projects (I miss them terribly) and - oh! so many ideas for other projects. I absolutely must finish what I've started. What's amazing to me is the thought that I may actually do it. There's a job, a house, four pets, a husband and (last but really first) a baby to care for, but somehow I'm managing to get in front of that sewing machine, to take the needle in hand.
Maybe this sudden push to pursue my creative dreams is my way of reaching back to grab some of that hedonism I took for granted, of holding onto my Self.
How's that for a good old-fashioned self-absorbed journal entry? No baby talk! Wow!
