The Still Life

Things aren’t bad. Things aren’t utterly amazing, but that’s okay.

In my last entry I talked about “life at the airport,” where every plane is an opportunity taken, missed, or delayed. Both my professional life and personal life seem to be abundant with opportunities… decisions to make. I tread carefully, cautiously optimistic, naturally afraid to make the wrong choice or squander a good thing. It’s human nature, I suppose, to worry. And it shows in the latest series of dreams.

For a while I keep dreaming about losing my car in a parking lot. It’s a maddening dream, taking up the entire span of the dream.

Dreaming parking lots are often difficult to navigate and all too often cars will go missing. Such dreams tend to occur when you are making an important decision in your waking life concerning your career and life path. Getting lost in the parking lot suggests confusion and if your car goes missing, you may feel that you have lost your identity in the struggle to succeed and meet expectations. The parking lot itself could be seen as the illusion of the good life. You can make all the right moves to get ahead but in the process you may find that something important is missing.

Now, that’s an interesting interpretation to dissect. I’m certainly unsure about which opportunity or what career path to take–now that there are so many invitations and possibilities. I’m worried about the future as far as where a certain path will take me. What if this department gets eliminated in the future? What if it gets outsourced to another state? What if I’m not good at it? What of my writing?

I miss writing. We know that. It’s harder and harder to make time for it with work getting so busy. Yes, a part of me feels that “writer” side of me get lost in all this. It’s not entirely lost, I’m finishing up my cover with my artist and I’m slowly editing the next book. Very slowly.

Something missing? Stability? Certainty? Or, is it someone and not something?

This last question causes pause. There’s a smile on my face as I think about a certain someone, but as with the career choices, I am cautiously optimistic. It is new. It is someone I’ve met in this “airport line” as I get ready to board. Is he coming with me? Am I going with him? Are we taking different planes? I have no idea. Meanwhile, the line is moving and we’re still talking and smiling.

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