The airplane is pulling away from the terminal. I’ve pretty much settled on where I’m going, what career path I’m taking at the moment. The past few entries have been a metaphor for my current situation, a terminal of opportunities–each plane representing a possible career path.
The beautiful thing about this metaphor is I didn’t stop to realize how much of it applies to my situation. That is, I don’t have to commit to one as an end all, be all–which was part of my quandary. I don’t want to commit to something I may not like, or something I may not be good at. The great thing about this airport metaphor is the plane may take me to another airport where other planes await for another destination. Sure, my decision now will impact the “planes” I’ll get in the future, but it’s not a forever thing. Nothing is a permanent destination.
Work has always taken a back seat; it’s a means to an end, it pays the bills. Some people take joy from their day jobs, while for others it’s simply a way to pay bills. And while every job has its rewards, the pinnacle in the reward-accomplishment mechanism in the human psyche, for some it’s just a job. People get their rewards elsewhere, in a hobby, volunteer work, or art.
I’ve slowly started getting back to my art, back to writing. It’s baby steps… mostly editing old work. I’ll slowly chisel away at something I’ve been working on for many years. In the end, I have to remind myself not to be discouraged by the small progress. I’ll get there.
I recently had a physical exam and while I was there I had the complete STD screen. All clear on the STD front (not surprised, but always good to know for sure). Blood work good. Unfortunately, I do have some mild heartburn and stomach-lining issues. It appears I’m a little stressed. Kinda funny when you go back to consider my last five entries. The travel to Texas and the lingering career decisions that have remained have certainly taken their toll.
I’m more relaxed knowing where I want to go, though I am wary how the new job will impact my stress levels. I don’t want to risk my health. I like being happy. I was fine where I was before, but as I’ve always told myself “complacency can be bad.” Mostly it’s a fear of missing out and a fear of Stockholm syndrome why I think complacency is bad. I won’t know what else is out there unless I try something new.
Speaking of new. I’ve started going to the gym. It started as a way to cope with a breakup in April. Now, it’s just turned into something I enjoy. I’m not all buffed out or anything, but it’s a way to stay healthy. I’ve got some minor goals in mind. I figure I may as well enjoy this fleshy body while it’s still young and still mine. Regret, like complacency, can be a terrible thing.
Here’s to new things.