While I wait for Julia Roberts to buy the rights to my book, I labor at a day job. It funds the basics: shelter, food, books, and printer supplies. Recently, I changed positions, which has caused a tremor in the force. I’ve had to re-balance my life.
Isn’t it always the way for a woman?
A woman’s life is tuned with greater precision than a Formula 1 racecar. Her contingencies have contingencies. Nothing can go wrong. She’s prepared. She’s cruising through life at top speeds in her shiny red ’62 Cadillac El Dorado with the top down resembling Grace Kelly—hair flowing gently in the wind—without a care in the world and then BAM! A tire blows and her serene existence skids off the motorway and leaves her stranded on the shoulder waiting for a tow.
She’ll sit in the car gripping the steering wheel, and check the wing mirror every three seconds for the tow truck. As is the case for most women, after an extremely short period of time, sixty seconds or less, she becomes restless, leaves the comfort of the car, and begins pacing. From a distance, she’d look a lot like a steam train with all the dust and smoke she’s generating because of her feverous pace and flurry. If you could see inside of her mind at that instance, you would see a room on par with the Operations Room at Cape Canaveral, a hub of activity with each task hinging on the next. So tightly connected are the facets of her life one minuscule break in the process can throw her entire eco-system into flux for days. For every second, she is idle something isn’t being done. In a woman’s life, this might mean the tipping point between sanity and donning a straight jacket for the rest of her days.
After about an hour she’ll realize no truck is coming. Nope. Johnny Depp will not come speeding down the motorway in his white Maserati to save the damsel in distress. It’s up to her to fix the tire on the dream machine. Thus, it has been for me. The new job rocked my tightly coordinated life. I was over the moon when the offer came through, ecstatic even. I had been working for someone with question ethics and business practices, and in all likelihood he is going to end up as someone’s girlfriend on Riker’s Island. Quite honestly, I was chomping at the bit for divine intervention. I had two wishes, win the Lotto jackpot or find a new job. I had my preference of course, but made a deal the heavens that I would take either. As happy as I was to get the call, it took less than a second after hanging up before my life skid off the road.
I am no longer working from my home office wearing Yoga pants, fluffy pink slippers, with smudged, day-old mascara, and sporting scary hair. Now I use an alarm clock and take a shower before noon. My presence in the office required a complete overhaul to the life schedule. The early hours I spent writing are now allocated to beautification and commuting. As for the new post, I am adapting to a new culture and learning a new language (every company has it’s own lingo and Modus Operandi).
I’m an adaptor. I know how to restore balance. I get it. Life shifts and we scramble behind it until we’re keeping pace. In the meanwhile, I continue to mourn the lost two hours spent at my keyboard. In time, they’ll work themselves back into my life, but for now, I am chasing along behind my own life wondering if winning the lottery is still an option. Until I settle into my skin, I beg, borrow, and steal time, to write.
How about you, are you an early adopter of change? How do you cope when your harmony is slightly out of tune?
If I haven’t stopped by your blog lately, bear with me while the space-time continuum repairs itself.