enfinblue's Bluey (credit to Fifi for the nickname!) Diaryland Diary
"I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart." -Vinc3nt V@n Gogh
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I don't want to second guess myself.
So I'm up early. I couldn't stop thinking and crying. Hopefully this will stop soon.
I like being up early though; I think I will try this (I always say this and eventually it fails) from now on. It would be nice to have an hour or two each morning to write and think. And then I could get to work early/on time and return home at a reasonable hour each day.
Artgnome wrote an interesting comment: happiness comes from within; that it doesn't relate to your surroundings.
I sort of agree. I mostly agree, actually. In fact, that's what I've been working on for a number of years: finding joy in things, building myself out of the rubble.
But there's another degree to which I disagree. Do I think I could be happier on the inside if I 1) lived in a more beautiful and interesting place; and 2) were in love...Yes.
Yes, I do.
Yes.
I want yes. I want to embrace life. I do try here and I certainly MUST try harder, but I am not happy here in Ottawa. The ugliness of the city gets me down each time I turn my eyes to it. There are no beautiful churches. There are not beautiful frescoes. There are no buildings of interest. There are no lovely patios where I can get some fresh chianti and some fagioli all' olio.
No. There are not. And the men are often brutish, dull, and semi-illiterate.
I am pretty good at building a life inside, a life of the mind. I read. I read. I read. I look at books with pretty pictures. I spend time with my friend. I ride my bicycle in the woods.
But the imagination, although great, needs so much fuel! I find myself getting burned out and tired from all of the work it takes to feel happy when I have to go to work and struggle in that grey office for eight hours a day and then come home to a lonely house.
I must admit that the idea of finding a better apartment has crossed my mind. The three big things that keep me on the fence are that 1) it's very quiet (that's very, very important to me; 2) it's located perfectly and there are very few available apartments in this neighbourhood; and 3) it's cheap for the neighbourhood and the size.
So, I think it's a matter of fixing it up. I have NO money for this, but I think that if I gradually get rid of stuff and buy a couple of decent dressers (instead of the one I picked up on the street whose drawers I can NEVER open), and buy a sofa instead of that dumpy armchair from a student house that I cover with a quilt! And get if I buy a couple of proper bookshelves, etc.
Actually, I think that apartment fixing up, even if it means getting a bit off my fiscal austerity plan, could be a good distraction right now.
OK. So each weekend I am going to make a plan to clean up one corner of my apartment. I should budget a small amount of money for this.
I also need a wardrobe, as being an old house there isn't even any proper closet space. It is a mess.
ANd I need decent hangers so that I can hang my clothes properly.
Yeah. I won't lie. I am sad.
I'm trying to get to the root of it.
There is a root other than the obvious, I am sure.
Part of it has to be the job.
When I was in the art studio in Florence I heard a story of a woman who had packed up her life in Germany and had about enough money to live in Florence and study at the studio for eight months. She just knew that she had to do it. She didn't know how she would be able to stay. But she was good and so she was hired on subsequently as a teacher.
I wish I were that good.
It was like that when I was a marathon runner. I just knew that I had to do it and that I could succeed at it. I quit my job and packed up and moved to Vancouver to do it. And I did it, and I made enough money to live doing it.
I wish I knew what to do next. But this job that I'm doing now is not it. It is killing me, as I've said before. I am afraid that I will be trapped in it forever.
The foreign service IS looking more attractive, which is interesting. There was a woman at the BI in Florence who was studying Italian and who was a former diplomat with the Foreign Office. She actually said to me, "I could see you as a diplomat."
I don't know. Is that what I want? Not passionately, anyhow. But I do think that I could enjoy my life more if I were living in Europe, anywhere in Europe, and able to get around within Europe on weekends.
Do you know, when I was in Italy this time I was mistaken for an Italian much more than before? It's something you pick up when you become comfortable with the place. Also, the owner of my pensione said, "You are Canadian, but you live in Europe, I think." He was surprised when I said that I do not.
I find myself each time I go, naturally, feeling more and more at home in Europe. Without a passport, there are not many ways that I can go there. But being in the Foreign Service would be one way.
So for now, maybe in addition to working on my apartment, I will throw my full weight into working on my French. French is so frustrating to me. Since I don't use it every day it doesn't come naturally. It is so challenging to use a language beautifully when you are older. When in Florence I met a French girl and initially I stumbled all over the place. I was quite chagrined.
Yeah, I could cry. I need to figure out what my goal is right now. Artgnome has the passion of her art. And she also has her son. As a result, I understand the "happiness is here" philosophy. It makes sense.
But for me...I don't have those things and so I feel as though I am shriveling up inside whenever I return to this place. I wish I could find a "goal" other than la dolce vita, but it isn't forthcoming. There is no driving passion for me right now. It's quite depressing.
6:29 a.m. - 2009-05-26
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Come al solito - 2011-04-16 unfettered spending - 2011-04-15 How does it go? - 2011-04-14 Whirlwind. - 2011-04-13 bleak that flips over to daffodil - 2011-04-08 |