I bob along on a stream of days
which blend and blur and
into the past.
Days without shape.
My normally tight grasp
on the calendar
and I am prone to moments
‘Should I be working today?’
‘Am I supposed to be in a meeting right now?’
‘What exactly did I do last weekend?’
The future is full of haze and mirage,
the horizon obscured by fog.
More than ever,
the only thing that seems real
is this one
Right now, I have a full time job. It’s interesting, sometimes challenging, and it pays the bills. Mostly, I enjoy it.
I’ve never really liked working full time, however enjoyable the job is. Because I like to have time to do my own creative stuff. To paint, to write, to mooch around dreaming up ideas. And time to be outside. And see family and friends. And exercise. And…..how to fit it all in?
I’m not sure I’ve found the answer yet.
Though now the nights have drawn in, I find myself reaching for my watercolours. Ideas form and want to be written down or painted. The summer was for outside, for evening walks after work, for pottering in the garden. Now, in the post-work dark evenings, time is opening up, time to get up off the sofa and away from the TV, time to start creating.