It has been super hot. It’s Texas in the summer, I realize, so it is foolish to discuss the weather. But seriously. It’s been hot. I have been sitting around my house in my underwear for a majority of the summer. Or I have been underwater somewhere.
Also I have been blue. I’m still pretty blue. I’m going to put myself in the ocean this weekend, love my husband, and drink wine during sunsets, but I am still going to be pretty blue. I’m going to live in it for a while, because that’s really the only thing I can do.
Yesterday we went swimming here:
It was super. Hubs was there. We floated on those tubes (that are most certainly made for children but only cost $4 apiece, so we buy them every summer) and ate too many potato chips and all the sour patch kids. Our friends made us laugh until we cried. Then we celebrated an upcoming wedding with some dear sweet friends and ate sandwiches with cucumbers on them. I liked Saturday.
And now it is Sunday. Hubs has gone away again. I have an enormous & rather nerve-wracking work project that I need to get cracking on if I am to maintain sanity for the next week. And I would much prefer to look at beautiful pictures on design blogs of people’s carefree and gorgeous weddings/ dinner parties/ homes/ children/ crafty projects that I could never pull off. Because it’s Sunday, and at the risk of sounding like a complete asshat, I don’t actually get paid enough to work on the weekends.
This is an ongoing life dilemma for me. I work in the nonprofit sector. Before I worked in the nonprofit sector, I worked in public education. I choose these things because I want to feel connected to the way I spend my work life, to feel like it adds value to the world that I live in, and to feel like it matters. But sometimes I really wish that I chose money over value-added, or that I could shake my belief that those two things are mutually exclusive. Because sometimes I don’t actually feel like the work I do is all that meaningful on a personal level. And so then I get in this loop of questioning whether it actually works for me to try to work for meaning or if I should work for money and find meaning in other areas of life, because maybe then I would have the disposable income to really enjoy the non-working part of life. On days like today, Sundays where I need to research and write and think a lot about my job, I wonder if the problem is that I am not passionate enough about the mission or if I am just a little lazy or if it is some of both. It is unnerving to be 32, fairly well-educated (with the student loans to prove it. that’s mostly what proves it, right?), gainfully employed, and still really not know what I want from my career. I think other people at my age know what they want. Am I broken? Can I just take a year off and spend time with a talented life coach and work on my triceps?
So yeah. I’m cranky about working today when I would rather navel gaze.
Also, I definitely don’t want this blog to be about this, but life is kind of about this, so whoops. Oh well. Better luck next time.