laptop

(written tue oct 2nd 2006 - posted sometime later...)

i got a laptop. i am so excited, because here i am now, being able to write anywhere, not having to make any special trips to the library, my sister's house, etc. actually, we only have wireless internet connection, so i'll still have to go somewhere if i want to access the net, but this is still a great improvement.

i feel a bit funny when someone asks why we got a laptop, and i say it's because i wanted to make it easier to write. when i say that, people automatically have expectations about my writing, and that makes me uneasy. it actually makes me so inhibited that i can't write anymore.
for me, writing is very personal. it's a great release. i can't say that i don't care what people think about my writing, because, obviously i do, otherwise i wouln't be sharing it. and yet, paradoxically, the more i focus on what others think, the less i want to do it.

it's hard to sum up why i like it so much..... i guess for me, writitng is about sharing myself. it's also about finding out what's in my heart. somehow, as i write, if i'm in the right frame of mind, not thinking about how this will sound or how it will be received, things come up that i did not expect and did not know were even there. so writing is a kind of cleansing, that always leaves me feeling lighter and happier.

writing is also about creating intimacy. the intimacy i experience in my dreams at night. all my life, i've had these dreams that are so hard to wake up from bc they're so beautiful. they're beautiful bc regardless of the scenario, the basic theme that runs through them is love. this is going to sound so flaky, but anyway...
in my dreams, i receive so much love, usually in the form of one person, and i also give back love, in a way that is much more open, natural, and free-flowing than i've ever experienced in real life. these dreams penetrate my whole being, and stay with me for days... they are usually so soothing that it takes me at least an hour to be able to get myself to a state where i can function again in the "real" world, in the awake mode.

i guess writing is a little like that, mostly because it allows me to share what's meaningful to me in a safe way.
i hope that if i write about my life honestly and openly, others may find it nice to read.

on to other things...
yesterday, i spoke to my boss from pratt. i am supposed to go back to (paid) work this month, and he wanted to have an update from me. i told him i would not be coming back. i felt bad doing this, like i was hurting him personnaly. cliff, my boss, is an amazing person, very easy going, very understanding. i like him a lot. i wish i could've been speaking to him about other things, something more fun, more cheerful. he gave me a week to think over my decision, till next monday...
i have so many conflicting feelings about this decision, so much anguish. a while ago, i summed it all up like this:

asking for guidance
(as i ponder / dread returning to work)

so how much do i sell myself for
this time?

is 30000 or so enough?
half-time, plus benefits,
and a retirement plan...

is that enough
for all those silent mornings
broken only by sleepy yawns of my children,
that i will have to miss?

enough to compensate
for the weariness that i know
will come to inhabit my soul?

is it enough
for all this freedom
that i have come to feel
and take for granted:
freedom to paint,
draw
sing
dance
cook
watch the sky
and just be as i am?

i picture myself back at work:
sitting at my computer
staring at it, empty-eyed...

walking to the bathroom
tired of so much sitting,
to find sterility,
women putting on makeup,
garbage can full of slightly-used paper towels,
it almost hurts to look at all the waste.

i picture the people i work with:
i like them,
they like me.
together, we are prisoners
of the system...

they have to pay their bills:
mortgages, car loans, college tuition...
some have to pay the doctors' bills.
nothing's free here.

some simply like their work.
they take it seriously

i like my colleagues,
but i don't see them radiant, and i am not inspired.
i am not myself.

will 30000 be enough
to cover the loss of Rumi?
loss of time, which will inevitably mean
loss of Rumi
and many other things
which help me get transported
into that most alive part of myself?

as i write this,
it seems so clear
just what i should do.
yet with that clarity,
old fears creep back:
fear of being judged,
of being labled,
of not having a "real job" again.
fear of being in need
helpless in old age, without......... retirement income?...

this prison is my own creation
(with your help -
we all help each other that way)
it's time to let it go.

awakening to new possibilities....
----------------

peace