I’ve been unemployed for a year.
I’ve done a lot in that year. The Husband and I traveled abroad to Paris, Madrid, Stockholm, Helsinki, and St. Petersburg. We also visited the Pacific Northwest, Colorado, and Las Vegas. In between those adventures, we took advantage of our tri-state area status and visited off-the-chain breweries in New York and New Jersey, sampling the finest suds in the region.
It’s okay; you can be jealous. I’m still in awe that these incredible, tasty, and memorable moments happen to me, and so very often.
In addition to expanding my travel log, I’m proud to say I made a lot of progress in my journey as an artist this past year, both in writing and in painting. I took classes at my local Art Association. I set up a make-shift studio at home, complete with drop cloths, easels, and an array of deliciously colorful acrylics. Our house displays my work in nearly every room, as odd and imperfect as it may be.
As far as the writing goes, I sat in numerous main-stream coffee shops, typing away like a stereotypical douchebag. (Currently am, in fact!) It is cliche, but solves the problem of both Henry and Raj either sitting directly on top of the keyboard, or being so damn cute that I just can’t help but stop everything and snuggle. (Yes, that happens. It’s as sweet as it sounds.) Anyway, I have a handful of chapters that I’m proud of. They’re still little babies at this point, in need of much development, but like a parent I’m banking on the potential that lay within.
So, I promise I didn’t start this post with the intention of bragging. Instead, I wanted–needed–to reflect on another year gone by. (starts singing: Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred min-utes! How do you measure, measure a year?)
Indeed, we all have ways of measuring our lives. For us academics, the school years make this all too easy. There’s New Year’s Day, of course. Birthdays. Anniversaries.
Take your pick, but Planet Earth keeps spinning (until we fuck it up so much that it inevitably disintegrates) and it’s up to you to make those days count.
So while I’ll continue to celebrate the big things, I want to savor the small as well.
Because perhaps life is also measured by the immeasurable: those tiny, intimate specks of time that go unphotographed, but add up to a lifetime of character.
This iced coffee has never tasted better. I’m wearing my favorite bluebird earrings. I just heard an obscure Queen song being played at Starbucks. The sun is shining.
I have a shelf full of books to read. We’re rewatching Game of Thrones. My heart is still beating for another day.
My grandmother’s ring sparkles on my finger. I feel warm. I’m getting a tad bit hungry and have money in my wallet to meet this basic need.
I have a brain in my head, a skip in my step, and a smile on my face, because I’m alive, goddamit.
Here’s to another 365 slices of life.