Damien Rice is singing about time. And, as per usual, I am wasting it. These aren't the procrastination diaries for nothing.
Unsurprisingly, after a seemingly unending series of unhappy days, as soon as I made the decision to leave the universe cranked up to warp speed. Now I am running on quicksand: writing articles, editing and re-writing other articles, pulling loose ends together, planning out the last month in minute detail.
The funny thing is, I still have no concrete plans. As of June 11, I have no itinerary, no job, no plane tickets.
Stuff is in the works, interviews are pending, and my bank balance is (for now) healthy. I am practicing deep zen breathing, because we all know how well I handle uncertainty.
What I have found interesting, as I search for future opportunities, is how much my perspectives have shifted. Jobs that a year and a half ago would have been first on my list, are relegated to the maybe list by virtue of what would have attracted me to them in the first place. Case in point: Uganda. A fantastic journalism job, opportunity to travel and work on human rights issues. The possibility to actually do good things in the world and change stuff.
And the thought of accepting (if in fact it is offered to me, which, to be accurate, hasn't happened yet) turns my stomach. Another instance of Claire running away from the chaos that is home. Immersing myself into a whole other type of chaos because I don't want to deal with the familiar stuff. Selfish. But also... angry with myself for caving, for giving up something that I would be good at and that I've always wanted.
It's not a fine balance. There is no balance.