I have the day off work so this morning I put on my purple sundress and rode my bike to Marketplace to pick up a few things (mostly just an excuse to get out of the house... and to scope on Eric working in the bakery). On the way home a sweat bee or some comparable creature found its way up my dress, got stuck in there, and started stinging my torso -- which is a particularly unfortunate experience when I have handlebars and a loaf of bread hanging from one of them. To prevent my entire body from puffing up like a singed marshmallow, I grabbed the little stinger (presumably) inside the folds of my dress with my non-bread-holding hand and held it away from my skin all the way up Simonson and into my driveway, hoping to God no one was looking out their living room window at the scene I had created to rival the Polk County Fair going on next to me.
I'm really getting into this summer thing, and even learning to take bugs in stride (believe it or not!) It's about time, seeing as Ann and I have had an all-access pass to a virtually endless, lush and lively natural habitat, and have hardly taken advantage of it at all. (It helps that it's just recently gotten steamy enough to stroll the streets at night, and that tick season is by now pretty much over. We haven't found one in almost a week, and that one was already a surprise again.) I saw a mama and a baby deer in our driveway the other day, butterflies of every shape and color all over the place, and hummingbirds like bumblebee bullets. There are beautiful picnic rocks just a few meters behind the llama barn, and the yard is full of playground equipment, cushy grass, wildflowers, and hammock trees.
I'm feeling a lot of decisions looming ahead of me right now. It feels much less daunting than it did throughout the whole month of May, back at St. Olaf, probably because of the general atmosphere of that place. Then, I was frustrated and resentful. This time I'm feeling bittersweet and much sadder about the choices I have to make. Maybe because of that more carefree, everything-is-beautiful-and-alive summer thing that's happening.
I'm feeling solid about my ability to grip whatever ground I do find with my own tan toes, I'm feeling a forward momentum that is both exhilarating and comforting. And the best part is it's coming from myself. At the same time, I'm finding myself clinging desperately to what I've found in these past few weeks/months: a fun but well-balanced lifestyle, a job where I feel at home, a body that is overall happy and supple, a beautiful home, a profound but comfortable relationship with an unbelievably good friend and roommate, and a guy who so far is so heartwrenchingly good that I can hardly bear to think about actually wrenching both of our hearts by leaving in a few weeks. I'm asking a familiar question a lot these days: what's the use of putting so much of myself into a place, into a job, into a home, into relationships, for such a short time and then yanking it all back out before anything has time to bloom?
(I realize that it's relatively easy to get stuck in that mindset, the "I've put so much into this that I can't pull out even though it's tearing me apart" mindset -- but at this point I'm getting the sinking feeling that I am the one tearing this good life apart.)
The grass often looks greener on the other side, even though a bird in the hand is better than two in the bush. Besides, the devil you know...
It's hard to make decisions when everything is so up in the air. Because either way I'm investing in potential. The difference is, by staying here I'm investing in potential I've seen; to totally pack up and bid au revoir a St. Crotch is to set forth with a blind faith that something good will come somewhere else. Which I have no doubt it would, because there are good things everywhere and I am setting my whole self to the task of finding them. Good things like people who look for them.
It's a process, and I have found there comes a moment when the decision just gets made. I will agonize for days and weeks over choices like this -- measuring all the possibilities, getting excited about one thing after another, following criss-crossing leads... Usually, eventually, something sticks, and when the moment comes I know what I'm going to do. (My apologies to those who have historically been dragged along behind me on this wild ride, only to be suddenly released in a dizzy tizzy.) Earlier in the summer I had to choose whether I would continue working at the Vegetarian before I'd even passed a shift at the Winery. I basically decided to throw all my chips into a blind pot. It turned out well -- I like my job now and I still say hi to my old boss and coworkers when I see them on the street, which happens relatively often.
What I think I have to do now is figure out which choice I should make for its own sake. I can spend all the time in the world making lists of pros and cons, ranking my options from simplest to most daunting, run tests on practicality, weigh opportunity costs, calculate cost-benefit ratios... It's all very scientific. But what it all comes down to is: what do I really want?
Actually, I haven't quite worked out what it all comes down to. The point is, instead of deciding on one thing over another because of a scientific analysis of how well it's going to work out in my life, I basically just need to do something.
Which I will.
Now.
I'm really getting into this summer thing, and even learning to take bugs in stride (believe it or not!) It's about time, seeing as Ann and I have had an all-access pass to a virtually endless, lush and lively natural habitat, and have hardly taken advantage of it at all. (It helps that it's just recently gotten steamy enough to stroll the streets at night, and that tick season is by now pretty much over. We haven't found one in almost a week, and that one was already a surprise again.) I saw a mama and a baby deer in our driveway the other day, butterflies of every shape and color all over the place, and hummingbirds like bumblebee bullets. There are beautiful picnic rocks just a few meters behind the llama barn, and the yard is full of playground equipment, cushy grass, wildflowers, and hammock trees.
I'm feeling a lot of decisions looming ahead of me right now. It feels much less daunting than it did throughout the whole month of May, back at St. Olaf, probably because of the general atmosphere of that place. Then, I was frustrated and resentful. This time I'm feeling bittersweet and much sadder about the choices I have to make. Maybe because of that more carefree, everything-is-beautiful-and-alive summer thing that's happening.
I'm feeling solid about my ability to grip whatever ground I do find with my own tan toes, I'm feeling a forward momentum that is both exhilarating and comforting. And the best part is it's coming from myself. At the same time, I'm finding myself clinging desperately to what I've found in these past few weeks/months: a fun but well-balanced lifestyle, a job where I feel at home, a body that is overall happy and supple, a beautiful home, a profound but comfortable relationship with an unbelievably good friend and roommate, and a guy who so far is so heartwrenchingly good that I can hardly bear to think about actually wrenching both of our hearts by leaving in a few weeks. I'm asking a familiar question a lot these days: what's the use of putting so much of myself into a place, into a job, into a home, into relationships, for such a short time and then yanking it all back out before anything has time to bloom?
(I realize that it's relatively easy to get stuck in that mindset, the "I've put so much into this that I can't pull out even though it's tearing me apart" mindset -- but at this point I'm getting the sinking feeling that I am the one tearing this good life apart.)
The grass often looks greener on the other side, even though a bird in the hand is better than two in the bush. Besides, the devil you know...
It's hard to make decisions when everything is so up in the air. Because either way I'm investing in potential. The difference is, by staying here I'm investing in potential I've seen; to totally pack up and bid au revoir a St. Crotch is to set forth with a blind faith that something good will come somewhere else. Which I have no doubt it would, because there are good things everywhere and I am setting my whole self to the task of finding them. Good things like people who look for them.
It's a process, and I have found there comes a moment when the decision just gets made. I will agonize for days and weeks over choices like this -- measuring all the possibilities, getting excited about one thing after another, following criss-crossing leads... Usually, eventually, something sticks, and when the moment comes I know what I'm going to do. (My apologies to those who have historically been dragged along behind me on this wild ride, only to be suddenly released in a dizzy tizzy.) Earlier in the summer I had to choose whether I would continue working at the Vegetarian before I'd even passed a shift at the Winery. I basically decided to throw all my chips into a blind pot. It turned out well -- I like my job now and I still say hi to my old boss and coworkers when I see them on the street, which happens relatively often.
What I think I have to do now is figure out which choice I should make for its own sake. I can spend all the time in the world making lists of pros and cons, ranking my options from simplest to most daunting, run tests on practicality, weigh opportunity costs, calculate cost-benefit ratios... It's all very scientific. But what it all comes down to is: what do I really want?
Actually, I haven't quite worked out what it all comes down to. The point is, instead of deciding on one thing over another because of a scientific analysis of how well it's going to work out in my life, I basically just need to do something.
Which I will.
Now.
No comments:
Post a Comment