Focus, please.
That’s me talking to myself.
It may well be the zaniness of wedding planning (I’m getting married next month and I’ve never been the girl who’s had her nuptials envisioned since she was 4, so planning them is WAY more work than I’d ever imagined) but it also may well be the mental reluctance of moving into a new phase of life. A new phase of work, really. I’ve gone part-time at my main gig under the pretense of pursuing the type of work I’ve been aching to do for a long time but haven’t had the time for. And now that I have that time, I fill it grazing over my registry, figuring out how to make DIY place cards, engaging in Facebook pleasantries, and who knows what else.
Actually, I do know: Obsessing over the fact that I’m not yet doing the kind of work I told myself I’d be doing. Granted, it’s only been a month. But I feel I should have hit the ground running. Instead, I’m taking a looong time to ease myself into the hot water.
Writing this does feel good though. Getting blogging again. Maybe it’ll open something up. Maybe if the seeps and drips come through steadily enough, the dam will soon break open and the flood will come rushing out.
I told my dad how I’m feeling. As always, he had the perfect metaphor ready. He said that I’m crouching at the starting line of a race. The wedding is the starting gun, and when it happens, I’ll off and sprint headfirst into the career of my imagining.
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