Honestly, this is ridiculous. I've considered myself an aspiring writer since I was nine, but in that entire space I've not kept up with a single writing project to completion- this blog included. I've rarely outright quit a project, but I've let things sit on back burners for months (even years) at a time.
I could say I've been busy, but I've not been so busy that I couldn't write.
I could say I've had no computer with which to type, but that's not strictly true.
There are library computers, there are spare moments. I'm lazy and refuse motivation. My absence from this blog is as simple as that.
I've been baking. I've been hopping between odd jobs. I've been dealing with family upheaval. I've been wading through a romantic quagmire. I've been practicing Jujitsu. I've not been writing. Shame on me.
I had an interview this past weekend for a steady nanny position and the employees have made me an offer. I'm currently looking it over and I think I'm going to take it.
I would be moving in with them while I get an apartment set up in their area. The job itself would include care of their infant for 7 hours a day, five days a week, general house upkeep like laundry and dishes, and cooking a couple meals a week. It pays, it's steady, I would be a fool to not take it.
We shall see.
I'd love to move. That would really be the biggest perk of this position. But that is also scary. Independence and attachment are scary to me. Being responsible to others means I can't just disappear when I need a break or when I want to avoid certain people. I will be tracked, watched, and needed. I don't actually like being needed.
I'd rather be a hobo, roving from spot to spot, my banjo banging on my hip and a back pack on my back. Maybe I'd truck along, my clothes and banjo tossed in the back seat. I'd be a gypsy, one of the great American nomads.
I wouldn't last a week.
These dreams are my silly escapism, my way of pretending for half a moment that I can exist outside the system of money and people. You see, I'm ridiculously introverted.
But even us introverts need to eat. I'd like to have air conditioning, and I'd pine away for a gas stove and a reliable oven.
And, even as much as I need my space and autonomy, one of my greatest joys is welcoming my dear hearts to break my bread with me.
All that requires a regular in-flow of money to support, and that requires interaction with people.
I'm taking the job.
And I'll totally write about it soon.
I could say I've been busy, but I've not been so busy that I couldn't write.
I could say I've had no computer with which to type, but that's not strictly true.
There are library computers, there are spare moments. I'm lazy and refuse motivation. My absence from this blog is as simple as that.
I've been baking. I've been hopping between odd jobs. I've been dealing with family upheaval. I've been wading through a romantic quagmire. I've been practicing Jujitsu. I've not been writing. Shame on me.
I had an interview this past weekend for a steady nanny position and the employees have made me an offer. I'm currently looking it over and I think I'm going to take it.
I would be moving in with them while I get an apartment set up in their area. The job itself would include care of their infant for 7 hours a day, five days a week, general house upkeep like laundry and dishes, and cooking a couple meals a week. It pays, it's steady, I would be a fool to not take it.
We shall see.
I'd love to move. That would really be the biggest perk of this position. But that is also scary. Independence and attachment are scary to me. Being responsible to others means I can't just disappear when I need a break or when I want to avoid certain people. I will be tracked, watched, and needed. I don't actually like being needed.
I'd rather be a hobo, roving from spot to spot, my banjo banging on my hip and a back pack on my back. Maybe I'd truck along, my clothes and banjo tossed in the back seat. I'd be a gypsy, one of the great American nomads.
I wouldn't last a week.
These dreams are my silly escapism, my way of pretending for half a moment that I can exist outside the system of money and people. You see, I'm ridiculously introverted.
But even us introverts need to eat. I'd like to have air conditioning, and I'd pine away for a gas stove and a reliable oven.
And, even as much as I need my space and autonomy, one of my greatest joys is welcoming my dear hearts to break my bread with me.
All that requires a regular in-flow of money to support, and that requires interaction with people.
I'm taking the job.
And I'll totally write about it soon.
