Money. Sheesh. Nothing can get us as frantic as money, huh? Trying to earn enough. Save enough. Make it stretch far enough (then maybe a bit farther). Money. Sheesh.
I've been thinking about it a lot lately. Caught between a hated career that pays the bills and an impatient dream that doesn't (for a while anyway), I'm left wondering: what's really important to me? How am I really spending my days? And why... why does such a huge chunk of our lives have to be devoted to staying ahead of bills? Today I feel like a gerbil on a wheel. Sure, I'm working my heart out, but am I getting anywhere?
These past few weeks have been a blur. A pretty, busy, money blur. Money comes in and money goes out. Things are bought and things are sold. Days begin and quickly end. Outside - in my neglected garden - strawberries are ripe and arugula is going to seed and rain drops are dripping from pillowy, unfurled roses. I hardly notice. I'm too busy. I have an oil and gas business. It's all a blur.
I hate that I'm so busy. I feel guilty for all the things I should be doing but neglect for the sake of earning money. Joyce's son just got shot by a sniper in Iraq; I should be taking her flowers. My Grandfather has Parkinson's and isn't doing so well; I should be watching the Rangers with him. Sue, Jen, and Dawn have all been promised packages. The library needs more volunteers; I should be helping out down the street....
Sorry to pile my mountains on you. Maybe I just need more (or less) caffeine. It's just lately I'm thinking: if it all were to suddenly stop... if it all were to suddenly end... what would I regret the most: not earning more money, or not taking garden roses to Joyce?
I feel a change coming very soon....
I don't want to make money, I just want to be wonderful. Marilyn Monroe