Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Not so bright and shiny
I don't always wake up on the right side of the bed. Sometimes, I wake up feeling sort of grumpy, oftentimes for no particular reason, so then I come up with a reason, like, "Oh, I better hurry and post something on my blog, because obviously, I'll never be a Real Writer if I can't even maintain a daily blog!"
And then I feel so apathetic about my life and my silly blog that I have absolutely nothing funny or cheerful to say to the internet, and then I wonder if I will ever write Real Writing, like magazine articles, or if I will just keep posting here forevermore and capitalizing phrases for emphasis that grammatically have No Reason to be capitalized.
Then I change gears and think about how I am so Not Prepared to teach the preschool program at church tonight, how I better get on that, and then I think about the pepperoni on my kitchen floor that I was way too lazy to pick up last night (which I fully realize is totally disgusting). And then I wonder why my apartment can't just magically clean itself? And then I think about what a terrible housekeeper I am, and then I start to wonder if I can just blog about what's really going through my head, instead of trying to be so bright and shiny all the time?
And then I feel guilty for moaning over my first world problems. I don't even have a Real Job! What do I have to complain about?
And then I can't help but think that if I had a Real Job (beyond trying but mostly failing to be a writer), Damian and I could buy more Stuff, like hipster sunglasses and moccasins, but at the same time, if I had a Real Job, Damian and I would be apart for 8 hours a day and that sounds terrible to me (even if it is Real Life for almost every other married couple ever). We've been so blessed that he can stay home and make a living, and I can stay home and make a tiny bit of living. (In 2011, my blog grossed $45 for the whole year. Whoa!)
I'm hoping that someday I'll get to pay taxes.
Damian and I are together most of the time, and we like it that way. Selfishly, neither of us want our situation to change.
I also know, from past experience, that when I work Real Jobs, I do not write, not enough to get anywhere. So, if I had a Real Job, I'd probably be so tired and uninspired that I would essentially give up on writing and that would be tragically sad to me (even if 99.99% of the world would not even notice).
So, I suppose what I am saying is that I am blessed that I can stay home and write, but I am still grumpy. There is no moral to this story.
(Typewriter from Nomad Words; Notebook by The Black Spruce)