This week had been the kind of week that makes me wish I knew how to juggle in real life. Maybe if my hand/eye coordination were a little bit better, I’d have the skills to balance out everything else, always keeping one flaming torch, or razor sharp knife, or more realistically a bean sack or piece of fruit in the air. Let’s be honest, I might have some talents, but keeping things up in the air isn’t one of them… but I’m optimistic that even though I might not possess the coordination to literally juggle, that I can somehow keep all the different aspects of my life up in the air and off the floor. It might not be graceful and effortless, in fact, it might be downright spastic, but at least I’m trying.
Yes, I like to be busy, yes I like to procrastinate, and yes I work really well under pressure and deadlines. Just because all of the above are true, doesn’t necessarily mean that I was thrilled to get an eviction notice last week. As if I wasn’t questioning my karmic timing before… how is it that I am having to find an apartment, pack up and move all within the same timeline that I am coordinating two separate volunteer writing events, shifted job responsibilities, anxiously awaiting to hear anything from graduate schools, and going on vacation? All winter I have been looking forward to February. Four days of vacation with my best friends on the East Coast, Paper Gardens deadline, New work schedule, Getting my taxes done, these were all things I was planning for. And now throw in the scrambling that comes with a move, the excess meetings (for both work, and volunteer projects), attempting to keep some semblance of a social life, re-budgeting the next six months, the business is suddenly chaos. Don’t get me wrong, it’s the good sort of chaos (mostly) but keep in mind that I am writing this before I have even packed one box.
Four months ago when I first contemplated moving into this apartment, I was able to justify it because I knew my quality of life would be better. I was thinking ahead to February, and envisioning the stacks of Paper Gardens entries, and organized piles of grad school stuff, work projects, and the mountains of laundry that seem to accumulate with no notice, and I knew that even though the apartment was more expensive, it would be worth every penny. So moving was a hassle, but it was only next door, there was no maneuvering the stairs, no renting a truck, no real packing involved, just transferring my life next door. I was willing to undertake the hassle, because I figured I would be living here until I went to graduate school…knowing that even if that wasn’t this fall, I would be living in my dream apartment for another year. So I settled, and decorated, nested even, spread out. And now I’m getting ready to pack everything up, and change my address (before I hear from any of the programs I applied to) and make a move that may or may not be just a six month fix before I head off to the next great adventure.
Of course I deal with all the stress of the unknown, by reaching out for something familiar and comfortable…. Which in my case is always a bad choice, because more or less that usually ends up being an ex-boyfriend. Why do I do this? I am a fairly sane person, I know in my head, it’s a bad idea, and that nothing good can come from it, and yet I have found myself on more than one occasion sitting next to an ex, watching Raiders of the Lost Ark, thinking about how a little cuddling etc. would make life so much more tolerable. Firstly, it should be a red flag that this has happened more than once (change the starring roles, and location, add or subtract a glass of wine, but literally the same situation down to the movie).
So there’s the cliché saying that history repeats itself. (It is also a sorta catchy song by the Propellerheads which will now be stuck in my head for days…) And in my case, this always seems to involve ex-loves and Indiana Jones… I don’t know how it happens. I didn’t actually realize my déjà vous moment until this week I found myself sitting on my couch, glass of wine in hand, and it’s the scene where they have just escaped the tomb with all the snakes, and they are trying to stop the Nazi’s from flying the Ark out of Egypt. There is the fight scene & Marion almost gets blown up, and it is probably actually the least romantic scene in the entire movie (maybe minus the face melting one). I don’t know what it is about this part of the movie, but it totally triggers something in me. Fight or flight kicks in. Maybe because it is like the point of no return in the movie, there isn’t a lot of film left, so if I move is to be made, it’s the now or never moment?
In theory, I love change, crave it, embrace it, and accept it. So why is it that when life gets a little bit chaotic and stressful, that I seem to run in the opposite direction. Reject the change, reject the new, and settle on the old and familiar? I guess it’s the same reason why we eat comfort food rather than trying new recipes, but still I wish I didn’t have this reflex. I take a situation that is already complicated, and in an effort to satiate the daily chaos, add a dose of awkwardness, and almost screw up a friendship in the process. I’m already juggling the moving, the work, the volunteering, the vacation, the grad school angst, and then add a dose of awkward to the mix. I mean, yes, I am looking for a distraction, but I should still know better… As if the juggling wasn’t already a little overwhelming… Thankfully at least one of us was thinking clearly.
Maybe next time my life gets chaotic I’ll at least recognize the pattern, and try to go on vacation before opening up a bottle of fine wine and putting Indiana Jones in the DVD player.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment