Musings

I am feeling better, though still having some tightness in my chest. I think I will live.

I've spent the better part of the day pondering my direction. My work is sluggish and I need to look elsewhere. The writing I do for various newspapers is not enough, financially, to take me where I feel I need to be. This is particularly true in the current economic climate, which, in spite of the government's edicts, is not being especially kind to us.

So I want to augment. But I need to decide how I want to do that. Do I want a part-time job in an office? Do I want to be a sales person, maybe a Tupperware queen? Do I believe in myself enough to spend months finishing a novel, which may or may not sell?

Let's face it. I just spent part of the holiday weekend in the E.R. My health is not the greatest. I honestly don't know if I could hold down a job outside of the house, one with regular hours that requires me to be there. I used to. I was once a very good legal secretary. But I can't say I really want to go back there.

That leaves working from home and finding some way to supplement what I do already. And any of it means taking risks, chances, and movement. I am stagnant, like an old pool of water, and it's time someone threw a rock in me and forced me to shimmer and give up some of the dirt. And I need to do my own rock-throwing, before some boulder falls into my waters and splashes me everywhere.

Would that I could be like the doe, curious, cautious, and able to take a step and stomp my little hoof when I spy the interloper with the camera.