Keeping a journal, even a sporadic one, as I do, is humbling. I look at past entries every now and again, read my brave declarations and promises to myself. The promises continue to be unfulfilled. Time is getting short. I’m tempted to say I have wasted the last couple years allowing myself to become domesticated. Let’s say I’ve spent the last couple years allowing myself to become domesticated. Whether it’s been a waste or not isn’t worth pursuing. Mostly, I’ve learned to be more disciplined; well, about certain things anyway, mostly my personal grooming and clutter-filled habits; this thanks to my manager at work, who is a clean-desk man. I became a minimalist the day he threatened to send me home because I was wearing leopard tights (albeit with a black tunic top). Too avant-garde, he said. We work for a financial institution; up till now my work has been in alternative journalism and graphic design, both fields where a certain amount of sartorial rebellion was not only overlooked, it was encouraged. Anyway, I threw away the tights and my scarlet shoes and bought three black blazers, a collection of no-iron shirts, and some grandma heels. Now I actually like my wardrobe; it certainly does not require the expenditure of any creative energy. I’ve learned to manage my mouth, too, and curb my cursing and shouting. The only trouble is, now I feel like a drone; my interior world has grown as colorless and un-expressive as my outer. What I want to say in this blog post is the same thing I said four years ago in my last one: I need to cut back on my web-surfing and commit to writing every day. So I will and I do, driven by the realization that when my new women’s group met today to discuss the nurturing of dreams, every one had a seed they were excited to grow. What I wanted to talk about was how to suck it up at work without internalizing. Sad, but actually I did get some excellent advice, chiefly to think of it as blowing off rather than sucking up, for the sake of my health. I am going to do that, and look forward to my digestive issues improving!
Tag Archives: old age
Why go Public?
Why share my odyssey with the world by publishing my thoughts here? Well, I’m in search of a voice. I’ve been talking to myself all my life. Now I want to talk out loud. Even I can hear myself better that way.
Getting to the Fun Part
A wonderful writer (whose name I can’t remember, haha) said: once you turn seventy, face it, you’re old. Jane Fonda notwithstanding, I might add. Upon reaching the milestone, and urged on by a co-worker who knows about these things, I finally began to think about making my end-of-life arrangements. I’d felt a nagging awareness of the necessity to plan for years, but I always succeeded in pushing it to the back of my mind. I had other priorities on the weekends, like doing the laundry or going to the farmer’s market, or getting my hair cut. At first I was elated to be taking care of business at last. I was happy that soon I would be able to cross this pesky chore off my to-do list. The reality of choosing a container for my ashes and trying to figure out what to do with them deflated me, though. It was all too real. To be honest, I was bummed.
Plus, it led to a kind of life review in which I came to the realization that (a) I have not succeeded in becoming world-famous as my mother wished, (b) nobody needs me any more, and (c) some people find me annoying. It was a little surprising. That was a month ago. A consultation with my sister-in-law at her home in the Sierra foothills last week was comforting. She told me that many people share my feelings.
Then today, an epiphany: I may yearn for the tender bondage of being needed, but on the other hand I am free. Further, I’ve been trying to do the right thing all my life and I haven’t been very good at it. I think I’ll stop trying now. More to come.
As for being annoying, there’s not much I can do about that.