Friday, April 07, 2006

The Atlantic was born today and I'll tell you how...

I sit here with my charcoal pencil trying to put on paper what is in my head. Trying to convey some kind of message without using words because words fail me at times like this.
"There she goes, being all dramatic again." I know, it is part of my genetic make up or something. Everything has to be felt in such a big way. Everything has to be overthought and overwrought. My email inbox told me "Victory is admirable; self-aggrandizement is not." How true.

I need a little forward momentum right now. I am far too comfortable. I get really afraid of comfortable. I feel like if there is no forward momentum, no change on the horizon, there is only one thing left to be right around the corner and it isn't something I am cool with. Comfortable=Death.

I want to move to another city and figure it out. I wish my little family were a little more portable. I can't imagine there is a lot more to learn in/about Seattle. I have been here long enough. I know most everyone I am going to want to know. I know who I won't/shouldn't get to know better. I can't leave the house without running into the past. Not that I am running away from it, I just wish things were not so predictable.
If Jon came to me tomorrow and said "I want to move (insert anywhere but Seattle here)" I would say yes in a heartbeat. But it will never happen.
We are so different that way. He likes being settled in one place, having a place to go home to that he has known for a long time. But then again, he has gone around the world more times than most people ever get to. I also have to consider things like my daughter and the fact she is in school, forming school bonds, learning life lessons and all of the rights of passage that come with youth. Who am I to try and rob her of that. I would never do that to her.

I'm not looking for drama, or "feel betters" or apologies. God no. I would rather never leave the house again.

It is more/all about looking for that feeling of intensity and fulfillment that I think we are all endlessly searching for. Finding/defining your passion. Jon gets it out of music. I have friends who get it out of the first blush of excitement that comes with new lovers. My daughter gets it from creating art. I get/got it from all of the above and then some and not some.

sigh.

(I think I might need to cut back on the old coffee a little.)

3 comments:

Deb H said...

Make ART! Make lots of ART. You have it in you. I've seen what you can do. Start collaging, or quilting or something. I know you can.

Kevin Paul Tracy said...

I told you once I read but rarely if ever comment but this post compelled me.

My entire life has been movement. I can't honestly say it has all been forward movement, but it has all been movement anyway. I have never lived anywhere longer than three or four years, when I work it is always freelance so I can stay mobile. I don't own any heavy furniture: I sleep in a hamock (very comfortable, by the way); have an iPod, mini speakers and small sub-woofer for a stereo (every-bit as loud and high-quality as anything bigger); buy nothing but laptops; and my latest laptop includes a television tuner so there's my TV; etc.

I have no roots. But I have few if any long-term attachments either. Few of my friendships throughout the years have survived my nomad-ways, and though family is family after all I am nowhere near as close to any of them as I ought to be. I, too, chaffe against being too comfortable, equating it to stagnation and even death.

No judgements here, one way or the other, just another side of the coin. I said once I envied you, and your stable of old steadfast friends is one reason why. Will I change? Who knows?

MJAPA said...

I guess moving too much can be as bad as staying in one place for too long. There is a lot to be said about stability and having good friends. I think sometimes I just get restless and want to see what else is out there. Really in the long run I would probably end up homesick.

 

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