i'm doing poorly, unless maybe i'm doing well

that's pretty much how it all feels in my head. somewhere in between knowing who i am and wondering who i want to be. somewhere between understimulated and overstimulated. i feel a little like eeyore on speed. maybe i should get a job.

today i watched my crazy black cat teacake licking all her hair off some more. what's left of it. usually she takes a break at this point, her whole underside white with baldness. then she sleeps a lot, lets it grow back in a little, and gets back to it. but today as i sat here chewing my nails down to less than zero and obsessing over design and craft sites and dreaming up art projects i want to do, i kind of got it. her problems are my problems. i haven't been able to sleep for the last three nights—last night being the kicker of wide awake until 3:30!!! and the whole time i could hear teacake licking, licking, licking across the room while my head was spinning, spinning, spinning. spinning on no less than wonder and what is and what could be really.

i'm not worried about anything in particular (besides the meaning of life). maybe it's the hormone dip? rise? from the weaning? maybe i'm having anxiety. maybe i'm lost. maybe it's just this change of seasons.

i have work. don't worry. i'm doing work. in fact, i have a nice variety of projects and some other things in the mix right now. but in between it all, it seems there is a lot more "free" time these days. time in between for which i am grateful. i try to fill it with things i enjoy. like walks and taking pictures and sending my niece a letter, in which i beg her to be my pen pal. part of the problem is i feel guilty that i enjoy these things because they are not work, not my children, not the dishes. they are just enjoyment. like a day full of desserts...but even i can't eat dessert ALL day without feeling a little off.

god knows all those years i worked in cubicles in offices in business parks i did not feel a scrap of guilt for all the time "wasted." looking at shoes online. telling funny stories with co-workers. making coffee milkshake runs. IM-ing with poet with a day job. no guilt there. maybe because i was getting paid (you'd think i would feel a bit of guilt)? and that's what people in cubicles in offices in business parks do? at home, i don't know what to do. i make lists.

things i do in my spare time that make me feel guilty:

• take 100's of pictures of 1,000s of things
• stare out the window and ponder the complete separateness of the green leaf against blue sky
• read the people magazine i stole from K's
• add more silly things to the "mama likes" shop
• click my stats again
• make something pretty for myself
• watch oprah or the real world
• eat peach salsa
• put off calling the life insurance lady back when i'm the one who called them first (okay, okay, calling now...)
• read a million pretty blogs that give me a peek into other people's lives, homes, at their cute knee socks and remind me i could be doing some really nice spoon organizing instead of worrying about all this

things i do in my spare time that DON'T make me feel guilty:

• take walks
• stare out at birds (i can always tell clyde about them later)
• listen to npr
• look for more work
• do the pile of dishes in the kitchen (it's more efficient to do them all at the END of the day)
• make leo laugh so i can see the adorable space between his teeth
• write poetry
• read a book
• drink a pot of tea
• do laundry
• make something pretty for someone else
• watch jon stewart, ellen, the hills, or dexter (what makes your guilt-free tv list?)

basically if it serves no other purpose than a little whimsy, the guilt comes, which bugs me and makes sense to me all at once. if it makes me happy, the guilt comes.

my great aunt OAB, my grandpa's twin, who is gone now, used to tell a story about throwing a bird's feather up in the air when she didn't know where to go next and then heading off in whatever direction the feather landed. i thought it was a beautiful story even if it didn't really ever happen. but everyone kind of thought she was crazy.

maybe i am missing something. why am i obsessed with the lovely monotony of simple things? because i want to avoid something bigger? why do i assume this is a bad thing? why can't i sleep? because i'm happy? because i'm crazy? because work should always come before whimsy—and i've been royally whimsy-ing off?

or because i'm thinking forks might be even more fun than spoons?

Comments

[poet with a day job]

I've been feeling the same way lately. Only, I spend my guilt-full time surfing the internet for real estate: large tracts of acreage upon which a farm would nicely sit. All so utterly unaffordable it makes me feel terrible. What are you going to do? More guilt-free things like update and/or comment on blogs, because lord knows I can't write any poems right now. At least: not while our kitchen sink has a hole in it.

[Emily/ Five Flowers]

I am in love with simple things too. This week the husband is off, and we are cleaning out every closet, making our fall project lists (knitting and sewing for the family- I hope to accomplish), and enjoying the cool air. I try not to lay awake worrying about the state of the planet but i do. Lets do a few guilty things too!

[Shannon]

What about the list of things you DON'T do, which thus makes you feel guilty? That's my biggie. You know: excercise--right now!--while the babies are asleep and you have the chance; exercise more in general; vacuum the upstairs already, how many days has it been put off now? weeks?; find some way to earn some money without having to put the babies in daycare and also without losing your mind and also without falling over with exhaustion; dust the damn ceiling fans; be a more fun mom. Sigh.

[Mary Tsao]

I think it takes a particular kind of training to truly enjoy things that don't fall under the category of "work."

Lately I've noticed myself creating goals out of recreational pursuits. For example, instead of taking the kids to a carousel, I am researching ALL of the carousels in the Bay Area and taking the kids to each one of them. Not all in one day or anything, but for some reason the idea of visiting all of the carousels (and learning about their history, taking pictures, blogging about it, etc.) is more fulfilling to me than a random visit to a carousel.

I don't feel guilty for a one-off visit to a carousel, but I don't feel fulfilled, either. I'm going to blame this on some kind of Protestant work ethic, which, even though I'm Catholic, I seemed to have ingrained in my soul.