Morning

I've been up for several hours already, thanks to an early morning flight that's taking my significant other across the country as we speak. For the last two weeks I've had an extra person in my house, now I have one less than normal. It's a lonely thought knowing that the dog and I on our own for the next week, but this morning I couldn't help but bask in the quiet of an empty apartment.
Morning has never been my forte, but once I'm up and moving it's one of my favorite places to be. The lovely, slow pace of the sunrise reminds me to stop and gaze out at the long-legged birds stalking the shallow tides of the bay before I'm forced to scurry off to the bus stop. Most of the time the ride into the city is enjoyable in its own peculiar way; I get to be an observer of the hustle in the streets for a short time before having to become a participant. The speedy, tottering walk of women in high heels, the saunter of square-jawed black men in crisp white shirts, the unenthusiastically dutiful shuffle of those charged with keeping the plaza clean; they can all be missed when that hurried feeling kicks in at the first crosswalk counting down the seconds before traffic comes speeding back in your direction, and often doesn't end until after 5pm.

The beauty and the inspiration end as soon as the elevator starts moving toward the top floor of this splendid old building. I read an article the other day that talked about how being pigeonholed in a cubicle drains the life and creative energy out of a person; you're telling me. I don't know if its the lack of mental stimulation, the tedious repetitive tasks, or the coworkers I want to strangle every so often, but there's something about 9am that kills the tranquility of the morning and tends to ruin the rest of my day. But don't worry, I'm already planning my escape. I'll be 25 in March, and I've decided that its time for me to leave the North American continent, at least for a while, in pursuit of a lifestyle that stays inspired from dawn until well after dusk.

Fulfillment

Every time I find myself doing some tedious, menial task I start to feel the cynicism creep up my spine and into my internal dialogue.
Yeah! I went to school for an extra five years so I could be an expert filer! The thousands of dollars of student loan debt I've accrued is totally worth it now that I'm qualified to sort manila folders into reusable and to-be-recycled piles!
I know I should just be grateful to have a job at all at this point in the economic saga, especially one with benefits and paid vacation. But I can't help but think that my life has a higher purpose than the copier can provide, even though it is a very nice copier.
I'm searching for my dharma in the wide world of clerical duties, and for some reason, I can't find it. So at the end of every day I'm left with resounding questions: Where am I going with my career? Why can't I just be grateful for the opportunities I've been given? and whose science-project cheese is that in the break room fridge?

Love ~H

Such a Monday

Today is such a Monday. It's drug on for hours, and though I'm waiting anxiously, 5 o'clock has not come around yet.

I've become increasingly bored with my occupational duties - maybe I just work too fast; or at least thats what my co-workers tell me right after I fruitlessly ask for more work. And since when is that a bad thing, anyway?

The often empty hours between 9 and 5:30 leave me ample time to think about all the things I'm not currently doing with my life. I'm not traveling; I'm not writing the novel I promised myself I'd have started by now; I'm not even getting outside as much as I'd like.

To sum it up, here is the email I sent to my significant other at 11:30 this morning:

"Kill me. Smite me, strike me down… if I didn’t have margaritas after work to look forward to I’d steal your golf clubs and go look for a lightning storm."

Love ~H