Thursday, December 18, 2008
Some Thoughts at the End of This Year
It’s been a weird year. My mind has always been… well, elsewhere.
I’ve been waiting for something that never seemed to materialise, and it’s no wonder it didn’t since it hasn’t even had a name or a face.
At some point, it was summer I was waiting for, but summer never really arrived and then it was already gone, and now a harsh winter is upon us. I’m not mentally prepared for the cold and the snow, and for the end of another year. I simply do not know when this one has gone away. I’ve somehow missed it. This doesn’t make much sense, does it?
Needless to say, I have done nothing for this year’s resolution, which was to start writing a novel. I’ve thought of it, I have most of it in my mind, but I only wrote a few words, and I mean a few. I am embarrassed but more than that, I’m worried.
The only thought that warms me is that, maybe, just maybe, the circumstances might excuse me, although I’m not seeking such an excuse. In fact, I came to loathe this excuse: no time. Always too busy, waking up at 5:30 am to go to a full time (high-tech) job, this insanely early only so that I can leave early to pick up my daughters, one from school, one from preschool, back home then in the avalanche of all the domestic, never-ending jobs (turning a poem in my mind, or a dialogue with my characters) kitchen-related or homework-related, or simply play with these two absolutely wonderful girls, until they go to bed, and then there’s the point of collapse, mind and body, beyond which there’s just another entirely similar day.
I deliberately kept the account of my typical day into one convoluted, grammatically incorrect phrase. It can only try to convey the extent of my daily busyness. On rare occasions, if I’m strong-willed enough, I can resist past this point of collapse and write a little, but that means that I’m much more tired the next day.
I’m thinking there must be some kind of respite available, before the respite of old age. I refuse to think in terms of doing this, that or the other when I retire or when the children are grown up. I cannot think like that because that would be similar to wishing for the time to go away, when in fact what I desire is for it to stand still.
I’m afraid to promise anything, even to myself, or even more so to myself. But I will continue trudging through this forest of perceived adversities, looking for the light of that illusory glade. I have to. I couldn’t be any other way.
As for you, my dear blogging friends, I thank you for your support and understanding. Maybe I haven’t been as present on your blogs or mine as I would’ve liked to be, but you were, are, always on my (writing) mind. I thank you for the treasure of your words, so generously shared over this electronic medium. I apologise for writing about sad things so many times.
A final thought, for now. We each have our own scale on which we measure our lives and our desires. I realise that compared to the much bigger problems that confront the world, my doubts and struggles are so petty, so insignificant. There are real issues out there, and tragedies, grave illnesses, wars, death, famine, all kinds of injustices, and all the people who go through them cannot allow themselves to be blue when they’re just trying to be.
Here’s to better days for everybody!