Living alone and being unemployed messes with my head sometimes. Every day is pretty much like any other. Even the weekends don't offer much variety. I can putter around my broken house and fix a few things that don't cost much money, but the kind work it really needs is something I can't afford. Sometimes it feels like I'll never be able to afford it. But doing these cosmetic fixes does make me feel better.
I just turned fifty-seven. Every year I chide myself for not having it more together by now. That vision I have of my possible self just hasn't materialized. I know there's no sense in whining about it. It's just one of those tedious personal struggles that most of us have in one form or another. Most of the time it obediently stays in the back of my mind with the rest my unfulfilled dreams. Every once in a while, though... Damn thing just can't behave.
You know, these days I think about that girl a lot- the girl I was. I think I was mostly oblivious to myself back then. A lot of what I was got squished out or suppressed by those who didn't value those qualities, or understand them (or ever wanted to). But I guess that's true of pretty much everyone.
These days I find I really need that girl. I need her boldness and her clueless courage. There's a photo of me from back then that speaks to me every time I look at it. It's like she's looking at me and saying, "This is what you used to be. Stop being so chickenshit and be me again. Everything you had is still here. Dig it up and use it."
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