the deep heart's core...

So I’m migrating my files from AOL, a tedious, monumental task if one also chooses to migrate the comments, which I do…and I was only on AOL for a few months. Those who’ve been on there for years have my sympathies. If you don’t know what I’m talking about…the posts must be copied and moved ONE at a TIME…and the same holds true for the comments. Well, that’s not true, you can copy all of the comments and paste them in a block, but Virgo that I am, that offends my sense of orderliness…and if I post them one at a time, there’s the added advantage that I can post them in chronological order, rather than reverse chronological order. Yes, I’m a Virgo through and through.

Anyway, in doing this, I’ve made some observations. First, I wrote a lot more on AOL. Of course, I wasn’t gainfully employed at that time. Work and the commute have really cut into my writing time…and I’m so disgusted with both at the moment that I’ve been spending a fair amount of time trying to figure out what else I could do. There is a sort of craziness in the life I’m living right now. I’m not cut out for corporate America. I work with very bright people, but I can’t believe what we do. A colleague says she can stand it because it isn’t her real life; she just does this to support her real life. Yes, but in the meantime, to quote John Lennen, life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans… The work that I do seems totally pointless to me. It makes a difference to no one. Add the commute, from two and a half to three hours a day spent in my car, driving through traffic…Mike sent me a book called Problogger, and I’m reading that. A part of me wonders if I couldn’t sell my house and move to someplace where life is simpler. Are there any places anymore where life is simpler? And even if there are…do I really want to do that?

I think about it. In my head I hear Yeats:

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the mourning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

I’d miss the symphony. There is nothing like live music. I know I’m spoiled…plus, I admit I like putting on a little black dress and pearl earrings and Chanel 22, and sitting in Bass Hall or the Meyerson and getting lost in the music…but on the other hand, to get up in the morning and see beauty all around me…to watch the rhythms of the seasons, and to find my own part in all of that, that I once felt but haven’t felt in years…to make that connection again…I’ve been missing that for a long time, and especially as I approach the autumn of my own years, I miss that sense of connection. Well, we’ll see…