Monday morning ramble

I have so many things to do but don't know where to start. A house can keep you busy, and it's nice to have things done, but some days I think why bother, why do any of it? What is going to last about what I do in this house and to this house, who is going to care fifty years from now, who would care whether the walls in the hallway were painted sage green, the bedroom eggplant or red or chocolate, the yard filled with flower gardens? Why the endless toiling? Surely there is some greater endeavor I can be undertaking, something that would last forever or at least for a longer period of time than all these efforts--something like writing a book or painting or doing research in a lab and discovering the cure for some illness, or teaching, or volunteering somewhere like Hospice or the Animal Shelter, or taking the course to become a CASA volunteer (court appointed special advocate) since I can't afford to work on a master's in social work or anything else, I can at least go through the training and make a difference in a child's life.

I don't know. If working in my yard and making my house look nicer makes me feel better, what's wrong with that? And it does make me feel better, but it also leaves me feeling empty, thinking anyone can do that--anyone who wants to can do this. What's so important about it?

My neighbor says her yard is her therapy. Her yard is stunning. But my neighbor is also this incredibly talented concert pianist/part-time piano teacher/full-time Assistant Director of the Fine Arts Center/very involved in local musical productions/one of the most accomplished organists anywhere around/an exceptionally talented flutist/a simply stunningly-beautiful 60+ year old (who looks at least 10 years younger than she is and who happens to look very much like Ann-Margaret)/who has 4 children and 7 grandchildren and who is very involved in their lives even with all of the other things she does/who has this knack for designing floral arrangements and home decorating/who is an excellent cook/who travels often/who has played at Carnegie Hall/whose legacy will outlive her. She says she has to stay busy--it's just part of who she is. And I think I could stand to stay busy if my life included a job like hers, and if I had 1/8th of the talent she has, and if I felt I was doing something that mattered.

I don't know why I never got involved with music. I have my theories but guilt keeps me from expounding on them. My older two children took piano lessons and both of them still play. My oldest son also plays the organ and my daughter plays the drums as well. My youngest plays guitar. He also played the alto sax in middle school. They all know how to read music and how to play it. I took one year of piano when I was about 25, but I didn't have a piano then and had to go to my mom's to practice and that got old, so I gave it up.

I also have my theories about why I don't paint, but I can't expound on those either without getting too personal.

I think what I am missing, though, is the point that a person should just be happy in what they do. Find something that brings you joy (something that is not injurious to others! There are so many sickos who enjoy inflicting pain or death on others to get their kicks) and don't give a damn about what anyone can do that you can't or what they can do better or how much more important what they do is than what you do.

But what I am getting ready to do is something I don't want to do but it needs to be done. Laundry. Dishes. Cleaning off my desk (have a ton of paper that needs to be shredded!). Putting away the winter clothes and getting out the summer. Hauling some junk out of the basement. Going outside to pull weeds out of the flower gardens before they choke out the flowers.

I guess I just miss feeling that I made a difference on a daily basis in the lives of others. I felt that in my previous two jobs. I felt what I was doing mattered and was important. I miss having conversations with people. I met so many interesting and intelligent people. And for as difficult as it was to work a full-time job, go to school either part-time or some semesters full-time, raise a family, make sure all the bills got paid and everyone had something to eat and wear and the yard and house work all got done, it was a challenge and it was an opportunity for me to be learning things I didn't know--most of them interesting to me (not macroeconomics--yuck!) and to have to think critically about the subject matter and to have make myself write papers and study for tests. I went from all of that to less than half of that. Job ended. School ended. Interaction with others outside of the home eneded.

I miss my dead friends. I miss my living friends. I miss days that have passed.

I thought I would like some alone time, but I am finding I don't do well with it. My youngest works often, so he's only home for less than an hour after school most days and then he's off to work. I am here with Molly, Dante, and Oreo. They can be nice enough company, and they certainly don't judge me when I go on a rant or get weepy and can't pick my ass up and get moving.

I guess I am lonely. I guess I may be for some time. I guess I could be for the rest of my life. I know I have been for most of my life.

I think the laundry has eyes. It's on the couch behind me and I feel like it's watching me. Guess I'll start folding clothes.