Wishful Thinking (written 11-23-10)

Jack of all trades, master of none.

One of my many oft used phrases is "a rut is just a grave with the ends cut out".  I get bored and need to see and experience things new.  I have lived in many wonderful parts of the country; seen and experienced things most people will never experience.  I have had many different/diverse types of employment from accounts payable to working in a cemetery.  I have directed choirs and produced large Christmas programs and competed in talent contests with solo singing. I spent three years as a volunteer fireman (woman) and EMT.  I have dealt with dead bodies and have had a few tussles with live bodies. I have hiked to the top of mountains and there gazed into turquoise lakes and I have seen the bottom of the barrel through a haze of alcohol abuse and drug use. I have a high level of tact and I hope, grace and yet I am a rebel at heart.  I have tattoos and I have many grandchildren.  I believe I have the soul of an artist.

I say all this, not in arrogance nor silliness.  I love nearly all the things I have done in my life, yet I find myself at a point in this life where I am not sure what good it has all done for me.  I  feel as if I can do nothing well.  I have few close friends, not much seniority in my job, I feel I excel at nothing. I feel like an alien in a room of people. 

I crave to create anything artistic yet cannot seem to start, finish or learn anything.  My children have moved on as children should do (even the youngest is to move out soon, yay), and I seem to know nothing that they need to know to succeed.  I would love, love, love to not have to work in the corporate world, to stay at home and create and make money with my talents, but I am also sure the time for that has long since passed me by.

It has been a tough, tough year for me and I feel as if there is nothing left for me but to exist to my end because I have not done anything of durable value. I get despondent thinking that this is all there is but it is not a pity party thing, I really feel lost, floundering.  

I guess it is the Catch-22 of my life; Jack of all trades, master of none, afraid that life has passed me by and there is nothing but waiting left, telling tales of my glory days to any unsuspecting person I can corral....but yet, there burns the inner desire to get that new tattoo, drive to Rhode Island because I have never been there, take up the paintbrush, and try to sell my quilts.

Wishful thinking....