My parents, brother and I went to Des Moines today to partake in a near-annual tradition -- a Mini-Golf Tour of Des Moines. One of the courses we have played at in the past is flooded out, but my father had accidentally found a new course, which was the first one we tried. Our verdict was that the greens were nicer than our favorite course, the addition of floating golf balls and easily-accessible nets made water features less troublesome, and the hole flags were a fun touch, but there wasn't enough shade, which resulted in some minor overheating. After playing there, we moved on to our regular course, where my game completely self-destructed; I don't think Wii Golf actually helps with real putting accuracy :( When we were done with golf, we stopped at some home improvement stores, then followed up with a delicious dinner at our favorite Des Moines steakhouse (the perfectly-prepared prime rib that I had tonight made up for last night's devastatingly-overcooked ribeye, and the atmosphere was substantially nicer than eating in the faux-wood-paneled tavern in the back of my town's American Legion Hall).
Since neither my brother nor I are married, it's kind of easy to forget that we're grownups; other than the addition of a new course to our repertoire, today was eerily similar to any number of Des Moines summer daytrips that we took when I was a teenager. And while I'm supremely grateful that we still do things like this, I sometimes wonder how healthy it is -- or, to rephrase it and acknowledge the real fear behind it, how much more of an awful shock will it be when one of my parents dies, or my brother or I get married, or one of these years I'm not able to come home for Christmas, etc.? I think it's perfectly healthy to spend time together, but it's all a balancing act between hanging on to what you have and venturing out to find something new. Given that I've just spent four months at home, I'm clearly doing some clinging, but what's the right amount?
Brewing behind this is the years-old Iowa vs. California struggle -- I'm now committed to going back to California, even though I had valid reasons for not wanting to be there, but I have equally valid reasons for not being here. I'm also going back to my job, which (not so many months ago) I couldn't wait to leave forever; now I'm looking forward to going back, but how much of that is because I am too pragmatic to give up financial security in order to keep pushing forward with my dream of being a writer? And yet, is my dream of being a writer really that strong if my thoughts keep wandering to wondering what is happening at work? Or am I psyching myself out and telling myself I'm not good enough to be a writer, even though I know I have a history of tearing myself down like that?
Bleh. This post is all questions and no answers, and if you know me, you know I like answers and actions and plans. Taking time off has been good for my stress levels, even if it hasn't led to any really fundamental realizations/plans for the future -- and maybe the lesson that I need to learn is that I need to let go of all of the torment that I put myself through and just enjoy the life I have (while being open to and mindful of future alternate possibilities, of course). Then again, if I didn't torment myself, what would I do with my free time?
Okay, enough brooding for one night; I only have two weeks left here, and I need to make the most of them (even if that just means editing my book, sleeping a lot, playing Wii, and hanging out with the family). Goodnight!
1 comment:
to get you out of your deep/pensive mood: I was driving past a Rite Aid which had one of those signs outside where workers can manually change the letters to advertise specials/sales. The sign was advertising photo printing, I think. The second line said "Buy single prints." On first glance, I thought it said "Buy single priests." -tz
Post a Comment