Wednesday, February 17

You know, so much of living your life is walking a fine line.  The line between adventurous and stupid.  Between being trusting and being naive, between being on a diet and having an eating disorder, between giving someone space and being used, between having a bad day and falling off the edge.  The question is, where does the line actually lay and who gets to decide where it is and why can't that line actually be one static place?  One day, being alone is glorious, one day it's lonely. 

Working from home is hard and I often speak of wishing I could just "land on a square".  Somedays I'm actually grateful that I am no longer part of all of the uncertainty that is running wild where I used to work.  Somedays I have no idea what I am if I don't have that job to define me.  It's a scarier feeling that most people realize.  I've told my friends all at some point in my friendship with them, that their work does not define them, it's not who they are. I realize now that is flawed logic, especially in my case, I have no kids, no husband, no one that depends on me, without a job, it really doesn't seem like I'm anchored to anything and I keep asking myself the same question over and over, "what's the point of all of this?"



I'm counting on a certain amount of inertia to keep moving along right now.  You know, the idea that a body in motion will stay in motion until acted upon by some outside force.  I'm afraid that if I stop now, stand still, that I won't know how to start again and quite frankly, I really don't want to live in a van down by the river.