I like how this day looks. Its bit of symmetry. A palindrome. The addition and subtraction.
I woke today with a mega to-do list, one of which was meeting a friend I haven’t seen in ages for coffee; of course I canceled. This is my modus operandi. Long ago I believed he had written me off, but lo…
One of my personally subscribed task was baking for the office. Tomorrow is my one year anniversaire! I remember telling the owner-boss during the interview, I will firmly commit to two years. Halfway through the interview, the second-yet-equal broker came into the conference room to introduce himself and assess, and all he could ask me about was all of my travel; thus leading to why would I want this job?!
Because I’ve never in my life had an office job before. May as well put this notch in the belt. I’ve been wondering how long I will make it.
I baked the bread twice, two different recipes. Because I’m a perfectionist asshole and the first one tasted too sweet. I used an entirely different recipe for the second. Wrapped it up to take. No looking back now. This was the main reason I canceled the coffee.
This is all superficial. Where my mind has been really:
I read The Last Painting of Sarah de Vos a couple months ago and I loved it. During the rare Kindle indulgence, I emailed myself a quote which struck a chord. Can’t recommend the book enough. There’s current narration with historical flashbacks, art history, manipulation, kindredness, exquisite writing…
”You live among the ruins of the past, carry them in your pockets, wishing you’d been decent and loving and talented and brave. Instead you were vain and selfish, capable of love but always giving less than everything you had. You held back. You hoarded. You lived among beautiful things. The paintings on your walls, the Dutch rivers and kitchens, the Flemish peasant frolics, they give off fumes and dull with age, but connect you to a bloodline of want, to shipbuilders and bankers who stared up at them as their own lives tapered off.”
Then in today’s Brainpickings (every Sunday) by Maria Popova, another passage out of Diseases of the Will…the Six Psychological Flaws that Keep the Talented From Achieving Greatness struck the same kind of chord.
Considering the all too pervasive paradox of creative people “who are wonderfully talented and full of energy and initiative [but] who never produce any original work and almost never write anything,” Cajal divides them into six classes according to the “diseases of the will” afflicting them — contemplators, bibliophiles and polyglots, megalomaniacs, instrument addicts, misfits, and theorists.
I read through this section and felt another ping of disappointment well up within me.
I am so grateful , don’t get me wrong. I am so grateful. I just need a little clarity and a lot of courage for the next plan.