"He is rich who is content with the least; for contentment is the wealth of nature."
- Socrates
"One should either be sad or joyful. Contentment is a warm sty for eaters and sleepers."
- Eugene O'Neill
After posting yesterday I did a lot of thinking about my attitude and how I deal with the frustrations in my life. I found these two opposing quotes on contentment. I'm not sure which one to believe but either way I need to try and live in the moment and appreciate the gifts of each day.
Wednesday, February 01, 2017
Monday, January 30, 2017
What Is Wrong With Me?
There's so much going on these days with work, the family, public politics and every day life that sometimes I crawl into bed at night feeling remarkably unproductive. Maybe I got sucked into social media instead of reading my current book or instead of working on my writings I crack open a beer and zone out in front of the boob tube or Mario Kart. I am often disappointed in myself for various reasons. It's a new year... But the same old me.
I spend half of my day at work,which some people might consider productive, rolling that same boulder up the same hill day in and day out. I'm thankful to have a job that allows me to feed and care for my family but that's all it is and will ever be. The company is a good company to work for if you have bills to pay - everyone does - but I never walk out after a shift feeling anything but relief to be free for the moment.
"Daddy, tell me a story."
"Can you tell me a story?"
"Tell me a Star Wars story, Daddy."
No, I don't want to tell a story. I don't have the patience, right now, to tell a story. Sometimes Evie Sue is just trying to get out of eating her dinner or going to sleep but sometimes it's a legitimate request. She loves using her imagination and pretending and sometimes she just wants to hear a story. Sometimes, I cannot be bothered. Why is that?
I like stories. I write stories. Writing stories is what I would like to be doing with my professional life. Instead I work to pay bills and then am, apparently, too busy, distracted or uninterested in sharing a passion of mine with my child. Why? Is it a waste of time? No, sharing these moments with my girls is one of my favorite parts about being a parent. It's like pulling teeth getting daddy to tell a story, however.
Where is my voice? What has happened to my creative momentum? I haven't cranked out anything creative in such a long time, and even have a hard time believing that my writing would be worthwhile anyway. What would be the point?
I see people "going live" on Facebook with messages of hope, while others are attempting to brand themselves on Instagram by posting inspirational quotes and/or hashtags, and there are friends podcasting and trying to combat the political upheaval in our country. Me? I'm not doing any of those things. I can't even find the time or motivation to tell my five year old a simple story much less pick up an old draft of a script and attempt revisions or start a new project.
Button just came up to me as I'm attempting to finish this post and gave me a hug before climbing onto my lap. "You're my bestest daddy," she added. Hm, maybe I'll try a little harder next time she asks me to tap into my creativity and share a story.
I spend half of my day at work,which some people might consider productive, rolling that same boulder up the same hill day in and day out. I'm thankful to have a job that allows me to feed and care for my family but that's all it is and will ever be. The company is a good company to work for if you have bills to pay - everyone does - but I never walk out after a shift feeling anything but relief to be free for the moment.
"Daddy, tell me a story."
"Can you tell me a story?"
"Tell me a Star Wars story, Daddy."
No, I don't want to tell a story. I don't have the patience, right now, to tell a story. Sometimes Evie Sue is just trying to get out of eating her dinner or going to sleep but sometimes it's a legitimate request. She loves using her imagination and pretending and sometimes she just wants to hear a story. Sometimes, I cannot be bothered. Why is that?
I like stories. I write stories. Writing stories is what I would like to be doing with my professional life. Instead I work to pay bills and then am, apparently, too busy, distracted or uninterested in sharing a passion of mine with my child. Why? Is it a waste of time? No, sharing these moments with my girls is one of my favorite parts about being a parent. It's like pulling teeth getting daddy to tell a story, however.
Where is my voice? What has happened to my creative momentum? I haven't cranked out anything creative in such a long time, and even have a hard time believing that my writing would be worthwhile anyway. What would be the point?
I see people "going live" on Facebook with messages of hope, while others are attempting to brand themselves on Instagram by posting inspirational quotes and/or hashtags, and there are friends podcasting and trying to combat the political upheaval in our country. Me? I'm not doing any of those things. I can't even find the time or motivation to tell my five year old a simple story much less pick up an old draft of a script and attempt revisions or start a new project.
Button just came up to me as I'm attempting to finish this post and gave me a hug before climbing onto my lap. "You're my bestest daddy," she added. Hm, maybe I'll try a little harder next time she asks me to tap into my creativity and share a story.
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