the days roll by. sometimes i feel like i'm in a 1940s movie watching the calendar pages flip over to signify the passing of time. although each day is unique and filled with hope and promise, there still lingers a sense of the mundane.
i wake up.
i eat breakfast.
i shower and dress.
i drive to my office.
i eat my lunch.
i drive home.
i make dinner.
i wash the dishes.
i go for a walk.
i make lunches for the next day.
i may plop on the couch and watch a bit of something on PBS or wait for the weather.
i wash my face and brush my teeth.
i change into my pajamas.
i go to bed.
i realize each and every human being experiences the ennui of day-to-day existence. i am not unique or special. the free-time that modern conveniences have afforded us have given us, as a species, or more specifically as inhabitants of the first world, the luxury of self-examination.
and as i've written about here in the past, self-examination is critical. the act of looking deeper into our motivations and feelings about what we experience helps us grow into elaborate beautiful creatures.
so where does that leave me? torn between the daily grind and the notion that the creative life, in my case, is the one worth living.