Running Down a Dream

An ancient proverb tells us that patience is a virtue—and if this is true, then I am pretty darned virtuous.  My whole life is a waiting game, and I never advance any closer to an end goal.  And yes, I know that life is a destination, not a journey, but mine is neither.  I have increasingly realized over the past year that I have no concept of fun, or relaxation, or hobbies, and part of this is because I am just too poor for them.  Hobbies require some kind of income, unless you’re hiking (and even that requires the money to buy proper shoes).  I have also realized that if I ever find a real job, I won’t have time for fun.  I’ll be too busy working.  At this point, though, I don’t guess it matters.  I am single and hardly surrounded by a plethora of friends—nearly everyone I am close to lives miles and miles from here—but it would just be nice to make money.  It would also be nice to be married and have children before I grow old and die—but that requires money, too.  I guess writing is the cheapest hobby I could imagine, but the stress of my life has pushed me into a period of writer’s block.

 

Desire vs. Reality

As my next birthday approaches, I find myself thinking about how my life has not turned out at all the way I thought it would.  I always figured I would be married by twenty-four and starting my own family.  At twenty-four I was in graduate school and alone.  Nearly five years later I have a masters’ degree but neither the career nor the family I expected.  I often feel as though the best years of my life are passing me by without any of the good parts of life to experience.  My hair is going grey, and I don’t sleep well anymore.  I also realize that people experience things at different stages.  Everyone is different.  But I can’t help but thinking there is something more.  This can’t be all there is for me.

And since this is supposed to be a writing blog:  I completed an entire novel during the past month, which has already been edited and submitted to a publisher.  Fingers crossed.  And I have currently begun writing another novel, because I’m either in creative hyper-drive or simply a masochist.