Since I'm only on a short contract for my job, I'm left with this feeling of uncertainty that I just can't shake. Yes it's true that I'm enjoying my time here and the job is great, however there is the looming inevitability that I'll be moving onto something else by the end of January. To what? That's the part that drives me nuts. This not knowing where I'll be in 3 months. You know, for a person who lives in the moment and takes life as it comes, I do have this streak in me that demands I know what "The Plan" is. I know, sounds shocking but it's true. I'm a walking contradiction, it's what I do.
Sure, I don't have an RRSP- but that doesn't mean I don't WANT one. Lord knows (because he knows everything I hear) that the CPP will be dead by the time I retire and I'll be eating out of a dumpster if I don't plan ahead. Mmmm, week old spaghetti from outside Eastside Mario's...I can hardly wait...I've narrowed down what I call "the practicals" that I'd like to achieve. I know what I have to do to cultivate that. I know that all the fringe activities will fall into place nicely as time and space permit. I just keep having faith that somehow, between my hubby and I, we can make the life we want. With alot of breathing room of course. Because there is loads of possibilities, and those beautiful and not so beautiful unexpected plot twists.
It's not just the time of year, (although that's nice icing on the heart-attack cake) I'm stressing out a bit. I'm going to be thirty in the spring. I'm just really behind on my "to-gitter-done" list and now I'm just really frustrated. My license (yep, I'm watching another personal goal/deadline go by because things have been set back, again. again. again and again.). A house. A family vacation. Perhaps I'm just not very patient. Things take time, things are not in my control and I just feel like I don't want to wait for forces I cannot command. A trip to Darfur would smack me outta this funk. I know.
I also really put most of the blame myself for the "follow the artsy rainbow" attitude which is what Financial Planners point and scream in fear at. My poor mother has heard my ranting. She's kept me warm, and she held me after I sopped up an entire $3.55 Starbucks Juice off the floor, my pants and my coat. Whether it was meant to be or not, I did take that as my divine punishment for such a frivolous indulgence. She's watched front and center the Broadway production that is my life. I hope she doesn't want her money back. Stay for the popcorn, and the grandson! I love you mama!
Creatively I feel like I'm just a sponge...I'm intaking, just not out-putting. Which is off-putting. I've started back to improv but missed it last week and will miss it this week because of work - I look forward to it next week ;)