14 August 2006

11 August 2006
Well it’s finally time for me to grow up and stop this fantasizing about being a writer, a poet, a professor of such…I am getting a real job. That’s it, I am. And I am going to like it. I am. I will write in my spare time while bringing in money to the family income, saving for a house, planning a new baby, saving for Emmett’s education…you know, the responsible, adult things to do. And it’s about time, I mean I am turning thirty this year. Hmm. Time for that necessary loss of lost dreams, lost visions, lost self, of youth and spontaneity, and all that stuff that comes with not having any grey hair. Yes, I have grey hairs. Yes, I am reading Harry Potter books. And yes, I steer clear of mosh pits at concerts, even wincing when I see youths stage dive, watching them disappear into the crowd thinking, gosh, I hope they don’t get hurt. What a mother I am! I mean, I’m not their mother, why do I act like I am mother of the world? Am I just joined in that universal mother role where all we do is worry about the life on this planet? How is it that women, mothers, are more concerned with saving and preserving life than the men who are in power around the globe right now? It really does take a mother, a human who has been through the depths of pain and labor it takes to birth a child, a woman who has given small pieces of herself to nurse and raise the child in health and sickness and sadness and learning and teaching and loving and cuddling, and no, we will not let other people destroy this life we put so much of ourselves into. I know how Cindy Sheehan feels. When you destroy a child, a part of the mother dies, too. How many children and mothers must suffer before we realize we’re killing our own mothers. When we destroy ourselves we destroy our creator, Gaia, Earth, the one mother everywhere. I can’t stand it anymore. I became a mother to join the life-giving force, to share my love with a new little person of pure love, and here I am, I have to sit here and watch the death toll of sons and daughters rise. I guess if I had a full-time job I wouldn’t have time to think about things like this anymore.

2 comments:

cresmer said...

I know it seems like you're giving something up by getting a full-time job, but you might actually find that it gives you something else to write about. I was really freaked out about getting one years ago and discovered that immersing myself in a non-writerly job really helped me clarify my own goals about what kind of writer I want to be, and how to do that sustainably.

This, of course, was before I worked for 7D.

And don't forget, most of the best poets have had day jobs. Some of them have worked in academia, but lots of people support themselves using other means.

You don't have to give up writing, though you may have to part with some spontanaeity.

Denise said...

Oh Sam... heavy sigh...
As cresmer says, you may feel like you're giving something up. But, take my grandmotherly word for it: writing - especially poetry - will never give YOU up.

It'll be alright.