Monday, March 4, 2013

Refusing to do "Work"

I sit here, at the spa, as I usually do when my days are numbered and my mind yearns to be elsewhere, I blog, and dream about a life outside of this "serene" music and "relaxed" clients.

I have begun reading Hemingway again. I vowed that I wouldn't, hating his misogyny and self-absorption, but as embarrassing as it is to admit, after watching Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris, I thought I would give A Moveable Feast another go. And it has been lovely, even the first two chapters. One of the most striking ideas that has been burrowing in my mind like a field mouse is that when one is bogged down, or blocked or wondering if anything that you're writing is worth anything at all, simply write one, true sentence. And go from there. So my one, true sentence for today is this:

It is a terrible thing to be lonely.

There is no one to walk the dog when you need a few more minutes of sleep and you've been running a fever. There is always coffee left over in the press and no one to drink it before it gets cold. Going to the movies is something that is no longer done because, while going alone can sometimes be enjoyable - no one to have to share the popcorn with, no awkward moment deciding where to sit, freedom to giggle at parts without worrying if you'll be thought dumb for finding some parts funny - you don't go because, well, why? Who are you going to talk about it with after?

There is no one to tell you that a box of cookies is not a sensible dinner. There is no one to tell you that watching the same movie, every night, is a waste of time. There is no one to take the trash out. There's no one to give you a hug and tell you it's all going to be ok. There's no one.

Moving away, all alone, was something that I never really thought I would do. And if I did, I thought, perhaps, I would magically makes friends easily and seamlessly. I would fit into a new spot of warmth, encouragement,inspiration and success. I never thought that I would struggle. What a silly being I have been. What idealistic notions did I have. I don't want to move back. I don't want to return to the beginning. But I still feel stuck - as if I alone am not enough to push forward. Stupid insecurities, I know, but still feeling them right now, at this moment.

And that is my little truth. My moment of shriveled anxieties and hopeless wandering. Apologies for lack of light and uplifting notions, but I simply don't have it in me today. I refuse to do the work at my job, and at my life. Not today.


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