I am not a New Year’s Resolution type of person. I have strong issues with the idea that you can turn your life around just because you hit an arbitrary point on the calendar. Ever since my trip to Torvehallerne this weekend I’ve been restless. Scrap that, more restless than I already was. Restless in the this-is-not-my-life-I’m-going-to-jump-out-of-my-skin kind of way.
I have had trouble making this new apartment seem like a real home. Part of the problem is the poured concrete walls that make it so difficult to hang pictures up. One of my colleagues said, ‘You should just use a hammer drill.’ I gave him a look that I hope conveyed the message, ‘Listen, sunshine, I’ve been drilling holes and putting things together since before you were born so don’t patronise me. Dumbass.’ What came out was, ‘I know. But that doesn’t mean that it’s easy to drill those holes. Having the right tools make the job possible, they don’t always make it easy.’ Such profound wisdom for a Tuesday afternoon.
Last night I rearranged my bedroom and put the bookcase from my room in the hallway. I need to go to IKEA to buy another one. My idea about transporting books back and forth between my two houses would work fine, space-wise, if I didn’t keep buying more. Don’t even think about telling me to stop buying books!
Today I have to go through my drawers. I have chargers lying around that I don’t even know are for. I have bags filled with pens. I have old notes and receipts that just got stuffed somewhere because I thought one day I might need them. When I move into a new place I arrange things quickly so I can unpack my boxes and get on with my life. Last night I thought perhaps I’d done that too quickly. Believe me, I have enough experience with this to know what I’m talking about.
My kitchen cupboards are a mess. They’re next on the list. I took a little detour last night and searched online for cake molds and chocolate. Actually it was a long detour. Do you ever get the feeling that your life is rewriting itself around you? That there is something else out there for you, another life, another way of living?
It’s not really my concrete walls or my bags full of pens that are the problem, it is?
Ever since I was told that my next logical career progression would be an IT Manager, I’ve felt like a wild horse that someone is trying to put a saddle on for the very first time. Or a cat trying to claw its way out of a bag before it drowns. Sorry, don’t know where all those animal metaphors came from.
I’ve professionally boxed myself into a corner. I’m sure I’m not the only one with that problem. I can’t afford to go back and start over. I don’t have a loving spouse to support me while I go reinvent myself. Right now I don’t know what to do next.
Something will happen. Something will be the spark to light the powder keg. (I’ve been reading Shogun again.)
I can feel the storm gathering. While I wait for it to break, I can organise those kitchen cupboards.