Sunday, September 14, 2008

Moving Along

I guess you could distinguish periods of your life between two categories, if you wanted to: times when you do something so new and different that it moves your life along, and times when life is just moving along even though you're not doing anything new or different.

I don't know into which category I would put my most recent relationship. My first thought was that it was a life-changing kind of relationship, for several reasons, the biggest of which was that it was definitely serious. But after six months, it ended. And while I would hope and like to think that I grew some during that time with him, at the end I can't help but think that well, there's six more months of my life gone. Time that I do not regret, because it was nice; but time during which my life has just moved along, without any big changes, such that here I am again, trudging along as before ... the only difference being, I am no longer just 34 years old; I am now 34 and a half years old.

I wish I had an ending to this post that would seem somewhat optimistic, hopeful, something ... but I don't. But I guess that doesn't really matter; because no matter what I say or don't say, do or don't do, tomorrow's still going to come and go. Time still moves on. I guess maybe the thing to do is to think about whether I'm going to just let time move my life along the same as it is now, by virtue of days simply passing by as I get up and go to work and come home and repeat, or whether I'm going to move my life along myself, deliberately, with purpose and hope ...

... purpose and hope. Those are two very difficult things to find and hold onto in this life, I'm finding.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Get busy livin or get busy dyin?

Don't worry, babe. You should become a judge or a shrimpboat captain, or maybe a shepherd. There's lots of things left to do in life.

Maybe one day you, too, will get a shoutout in The Scrivener.

sadielady said...

Huh, that was a little shawshankish, wasn't it ... i blame it on my depression.

Maybe I'll move to the keys and open up a jet ski rental / tourist trap / bait shop kind of place. I'll drink alcohol and read books in the sun all day long, and make just enough money to keep me in coronas and daiquiries and fresh local seafood and paperbacks. I'll be really tan. And island men with ripped abs will fan me with palm fronds and lay me whenever I desire.

Thanks for the support babe. Oh, and try not to let your new fame go to your head.