hello and welcome to the world of bumland! where everyday starts whenever you feel like it and ends when your eyes are just too tired from reading. where mealtime is arbitrary and options are exploratory. where budgeting rears its ugly head more often that you'd like and forces you to be more creative. where everyday is an unexplored adventure in a single port of call.
little by little you pick up the pieces of a cluttered life you'd allowed to fall by the wayside in the mad routine to make a living, chores you'd relegated for a later time that would never have come if you were honest enough to admit it.
you discover you have now all the time to stretch, sort out your desk, reread your books, bond over pita bread and the ironies of daily soaps, try out a recipe, play with your dog, rekindle true friendships, attend family gatherings, fangirl over the net, join that free workshop, befriend strangers, work on your (self-proclaimed) art, practice that stroke, find the perfect shade, redesign, realign, bring to order, walk as much as you want, get lost, find where you are.
you unravel the things undone and don the apron of domesticity, however much the concept alienates you at first, and are strangely glad to do the laundry, wash the dishes, and clean your room. glad to bask in time and no longer chase it like you used to, like a dog would run in circles for its tail.
you respect time more because you now have more of it to spare.
little by little you remember to dream. to recall all the fancies you entertained growing up, the convictions of your early twenties when you believed you could change the world, before the world changed you instead and allowed other goals to take root.
you know this is all just a respite though, and you can't stay this way forever. sooner or later you emerge from your cocoon to a landscape harsher than what you left. be that as it may, you have to strike your road again. for that is what comes of remembering your dreams.
little by little you pick up the pieces of a cluttered life you'd allowed to fall by the wayside in the mad routine to make a living, chores you'd relegated for a later time that would never have come if you were honest enough to admit it.
you discover you have now all the time to stretch, sort out your desk, reread your books, bond over pita bread and the ironies of daily soaps, try out a recipe, play with your dog, rekindle true friendships, attend family gatherings, fangirl over the net, join that free workshop, befriend strangers, work on your (self-proclaimed) art, practice that stroke, find the perfect shade, redesign, realign, bring to order, walk as much as you want, get lost, find where you are.
you unravel the things undone and don the apron of domesticity, however much the concept alienates you at first, and are strangely glad to do the laundry, wash the dishes, and clean your room. glad to bask in time and no longer chase it like you used to, like a dog would run in circles for its tail.
you respect time more because you now have more of it to spare.
little by little you remember to dream. to recall all the fancies you entertained growing up, the convictions of your early twenties when you believed you could change the world, before the world changed you instead and allowed other goals to take root.
you know this is all just a respite though, and you can't stay this way forever. sooner or later you emerge from your cocoon to a landscape harsher than what you left. be that as it may, you have to strike your road again. for that is what comes of remembering your dreams.
No comments:
Post a Comment