Living in the Moment

There's something to be said for stopping and enjoying a moment. Since the age of about five, when my parents divorced and I first asked the question, "What happens next?" I've made plans and outlined contingencies, preparing for what happens next.

And this morning I sit at my computer and I find that I don't care. It's not a fatalistic, oh-what's-the-use angst. It's more of a I'm-safe-and-content feeling. It's a feeling that there is something next and it really doesn't matter what because it will be fabulous no matter what it is.

These past few months have been very disjointed. As planned, in order to keep my mind off the fact that I'm unemployed I've kept myself very busy. Applying to PhD programs, building a website, taking pictures, sending out resumes, interviewing...they've all been components of very large, very different plans. In some ways it's been a frustrating time, filled with disappointments: that certain jobs didn't come through, that my writing wasn't going more smoothly, that I lacked confidence in my PhD applications. The list could go on.

But this morning, at this precise second as I type, there is a contentment. Things are good enough. Even the imperfections -- my messy workroom strewn with important papers and dustbunnies, the refrigerator that contains a stick of butter and ketchup, the ancient cat who will not shut up until I open exactly the right can of catfood -- they all seem to fit into a perfect picture. I don't know how else to say it. I'm happy.