Saturday, November 12, 2011
save it for later.
some other day, when this is a long time ago, i'm going to think of it sometimes, especially if i need to feel good. because right now is so humbling, so overwhelmingly humbling, that i think to look back on it later, at least after a while, will make me smile the never again smile. i never have to do this again.
the scariest is the thought that i am positing an after that won't really exist, that was never guaranteed to happen; the safe, warm, job-having, comfortable place where i think this all ends up may be a unicorn. this is also possible: that now is hard, but what will be enduringly difficult is managing the life that this choice set into motion, the one where our debt mounts and we continue, over educated and under employed, to live lives other than the ones we tried very hard ot make happen.
which, let me be clear, is not a large tragedy. that we didn't get to be what we wanted when we grew up isn't on a par with illness, or with not being able to have kids, or a million other things. that a lot of people in the world desperately wish for the level of security i find insufficient is forward in my mind, at least when i'm consciously complaining.
but if it does happen, if we do get there, there is going to be some fall that precedes a christmas where we can do a large amount of the things i now want to do. shop for gifts. enjoy each other with no overhanging anxiety about jobs unsecured and books unwritten. i know that i can manufacture anxiety out of carbon dioxide, but i've actually felt that way before. i know it's possible even without the incredible illuminating ray my kid is.
i'm worried that i'm giving myself too many breaks. on one hand, it's hard to underemphasize the amount of conditional stress that's present right now. on the other, fucking around isn't going to make it go away sooner. getting it done is what's going to move us along.
so. getting it done. poorly, i think, at least right now. and looking forward to when now is history.
the scariest is the thought that i am positing an after that won't really exist, that was never guaranteed to happen; the safe, warm, job-having, comfortable place where i think this all ends up may be a unicorn. this is also possible: that now is hard, but what will be enduringly difficult is managing the life that this choice set into motion, the one where our debt mounts and we continue, over educated and under employed, to live lives other than the ones we tried very hard ot make happen.
which, let me be clear, is not a large tragedy. that we didn't get to be what we wanted when we grew up isn't on a par with illness, or with not being able to have kids, or a million other things. that a lot of people in the world desperately wish for the level of security i find insufficient is forward in my mind, at least when i'm consciously complaining.
but if it does happen, if we do get there, there is going to be some fall that precedes a christmas where we can do a large amount of the things i now want to do. shop for gifts. enjoy each other with no overhanging anxiety about jobs unsecured and books unwritten. i know that i can manufacture anxiety out of carbon dioxide, but i've actually felt that way before. i know it's possible even without the incredible illuminating ray my kid is.
i'm worried that i'm giving myself too many breaks. on one hand, it's hard to underemphasize the amount of conditional stress that's present right now. on the other, fucking around isn't going to make it go away sooner. getting it done is what's going to move us along.
so. getting it done. poorly, i think, at least right now. and looking forward to when now is history.
