It was a beautiful breezy day today. I went and sat outside with my dog, trying to figure out the new Nevada Culture Grants Online site, and discovered the grant proposal I'm writing is due sooner than I thought.
I took a brief afternoon nap with the wind blowing the tree against the house, which is a bit disconcerting although I've heard it so often. I think afternoon naps or rest time are what I'll remember most about this house--the afternoon sun coming in through the white blinds, making my room practically glow. Today is was more dappled and shaded with the blowing locust tree branches, and the room stayed cooler.
When I have time to lie and ponder things, I can feel stressed by all there is hanging over my head with this house. The thought occurred to me, as it often does, that I'm not really where I want to be, this isn't how I thought life would be. Simultaneously with this thought, usually, is remembering the hopefulness of youth when I knew I wasn't where I wanted to be, but there was always so much potential. So today I almost immediately asked myself where did I think I'd be at this point, and why, and why would I think I'm not in that place? I wanted to be married with children and a career, and here I am with at least part of that, right? I have a 13 year old and an 8 year old, they are doing well in school, I have a dog now to occupy my time, I have many volunteer opportunities, and I keep practicing my music.
The fantasies I had I still have, and they are for fun, they weren't any kind of life plan, honestly. I watched the series finale of Desperate Housewives last night, then I watched the last videos of my mom's time on earth. One of the characters mentioned that what is said about middle age is that your dreams for the future become your memories of the past. I had never heard that before. I've always lived with nostalgia for the past as well as dreams for the future. I'm not sure either one really has much bearing on reality, other than the reality of how I exist in my brain.
I had another thought yesterday, which is that people enjoy things that aren't pretty. When I think of the discordancy and noise of the music people find powerful and meaningful, beauty isn't a priority. Maybe that's why people do actually like me, although I am not beautiful.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
When I moved to Reno, my mother asked me what it was like. I said it was like Charlottesville with casinos. I keep trying to find the correct way to view this place, but it's like everywhere else-in the eye of the beholder.
No comments:
Post a Comment