A Green and Private World

I slept until past 10 this morning, and I was still tired. I've been up really late recently, digging through the archives of the Monkees fanfiction group list Long Title. I traded the Beatles show for Monkees CDs as I made Pear Ginger Pancakes for breakfast.

Called Mom around 11:30. We talked for almost an hour. She basically said for me to be more positive about the Acme job and that I'm lucky I have it and can fend for myself. If I'm so lucky, why don't I FEEL lucky? Why does it drive me crazy? Why do I hate myself when I come home from it? Why do I dread going to work every day? Is it truly impossible to have a job that I enjoy doing and that pays me enough to live on? Isn't there one person who understands what it's like to be a creative person who can't create anymore and who is being encouraged to do something that she feels is demeaning? I keep doing it because it makes money, not because I want to. I just haven't been able to find something that's better, and no, I don't think it has a single thing to do with the darn economy, which is everyone's favorite scapegoat.

The trouble is, I'm not sure what it is I want to do. I know I want to write, but there's a hundred things I want to do with that. Every time I get an idea, it doesn't work out. I start things, and I never finish them. Yes, I do have friends, but I'd give anything for a close, warm circle of friends who lived right in this area and knew exactly what I was going through. None of my closest friends live in the South Jersey area. They're scattered across the country, from Wildwood to the Atlanta suburbs to Denver to San Diego. And as much as I love my family, none of them are writers, and most of them aren't even artists or craftspeople in the way Mom is. I don't want to be on a journey anymore. I want to find the place I belong.

I do like Mom's suggestion of looking up spirituality. I take yoga classes, but I have a hard time with their meaning. I've never been really good with religion. Maybe trying to change that would help.

At least work was fairly painless. It was off and on, with no really major problems. It slowed down enough that I was able to leave without having to wait for the kid who is coming from a second job and is never on time.

When I got home, I listened to one of my Lost In Boston CDs and had leftovers. The Lost In Boston series is long out of print, but it's worth looking for if you're a musical fan looking for something different. It's a series of CDs by now-defunct label Verese Sarabande that feature songs cut from Broadway musicals, from the well-known to songs dropped from flops.