Of Reluctant Realisation June 4, 2008
Posted by Jen in : Journal , 25 commentsAwake at the crack of dawn as usual, I lay in bed listening to the Jurassic squeaks of the baby swallows in their mud huts outside the window. 5am and my mind lurched into action: had I remembered to edit the photos for work? Did I have anything clean to wear? Had No 2 Son emptied his lunchbox? Should I do photography coursework, edit the novel or actually do some writing before I clamber into my parachute harness of a bra and go for a run?
Ok. I admit it. I’m really tired. I know, I know. When you’re really passionate about something, there’s always time to fit it into your day. But what happens when you’re passionate about everything?
I don’t want to go to work today. It’s not that I don’t like my job; the work is interesting, I’m never bored, I get on great with the four other people in the office. It’s good. Really.
But I don’t want that to be my life. I can feel all my creative impulses slowly being tap-tap-tapped out of my soul. I miss writing; I want to pack up a bag and head down to Bexhill and take stark black and white photos of the pavilion or flounce around Brighton, searching for inspiration amongst the oddly pierced people in the twisting lanes, writing in coffee shops as salt and vinegar drifts into the sea air. But I’m not doing anything of those things.
And now I’ve wasted an hour of my life just sitting here, thinking that I can’t, just can’t, do everything. I haven’t studied or written or edited because it just all seems so hopeless.
I think I might need to have a little cry now. Best to get it over with early, don’t you think?
