This is my first post, and it’s freewriting, so don’t expect much. Just my ramblings. It is my desire to continue to write for 20 minutes a day so that I can get it all out. It’s nauseating sometimes the way my mind won’t stop running round and round the endless situations I put myself in.
Me? Do I put myself in these situations or do I just end up in them? Let’s take the one that is preoccupying me the most right now: going back to college. I want to be a writer, but I have refused to write because I’m afraid. So, I got myself a BA degree in English so that I could put a foot forward in that area, and I wrote when I had to. I got mostly A’s. But I’m not sure what that says about my ability to write, especially creative writing. Once I finished college, I haven’t tried writing anything since, and now I’m applying to UTSA’s graduate program in English Literature. I might focus on creative writing, but I’m not sure.
What’s bothering me about all this is my inner editor. Not only my writing, but also my thoughts, are continuously edited, as if I had an inner devil who constantly listens and revises everything so that, in fact, I don’t come out as authentic, but something just short of or right on mediocre. I don’t really want to be mediocre, but over the years I have trained myself to accept the fact that mediocre is okay and definitely not a bad thing. I never judge anyone else who is mediocre. In fact, I just about envy people who seem to not toil but rather live their lives one day at a time, without expecting so much out of it.
I want a simple life.
So I had my first, and probably only, child a year and a half ago, I went back to work from home two months later, I took on more and more work, including taking advanced piano lessons and advertising myself as a beginning piano teacher. I have four students. Now, I’m going back to school, on top of working and being a full-time mommy. I already studied for and took the GRE, which came out okay, but could have been much better if I had had the time to study more.
Is this the way to a simple life?
I dream of waking up and tending to my garden, smelling my roses in the morning air while drinking a cup of tea and listening to bird songs, watching the squirrels scurrying from limb to limb, maybe even feeding them ears of dried corn. I long for a life of long meditative walks and recuperative bubble baths. I want to sip my life slowly, with languor. I never want to feel hurried.
So I scurry around like the squirrel, wondering if someone will get hold of my last piece of corn. I worry, scurry, and scamper. I run, sometimes hide, and even scratch my way through life, yet, it’s the simple life I want.
Why, when it seems to do nothing but slowly grate years off of my life, do I put myself through so much? Why are my expectations so high?
Inner editor says: Don’t reveal too much!
Tomorrow Noah gets his eye surgery, and I’m a little freaked out about it. Granted, it’s just a little one, but he still needs general anesthesia because he is too young to handle the surgery. The eyelid needs to be drained because he has a chalazion. Please, let that one go alright. I’m so worried about that.
I want a dog, so that I can have even more responsibilities.
I want to wake up earlier than 5:00 AM so that I will have time to do yoga and write for 20 minutes before the day begins.
I want to put Noah in his highchair for an hour a day so that I can practice the piano, while he screams.
Yet, I want a simple life. Maybe I can write about it, the life I want but just can’t have.