Like this afternoon, Joe called me up to go to Indooroopilly shopping centre with him, where he bought me dinner and later escorted me to work, and on the way we brainstormed and drew designs for Wicked Campervans. Given that I'd had nothing at all planned for today, that was an awesome diversion.
And in more general terms, in no particular order: I'm ever-slimming and got a bunch of free clothes when I was up at mum's. I had a Jangles-cat sleeping curled up against me all day today. I have great flatmates and a possible new flatmate on the horizon. I have a block of land that I'm paying off faster than I need to, and I have some of the best friends anyone could hope for, and I have all these exciting travel plans and shows to go to this year, and I have a decent job that pays well and has great conditions, and I finally have my room organised and fantastically comfortable and satisfying, and I've dealt with some old issues of low self esteem (which spawned jealousy issues that were highly unpleasant for everyone, most of all me) to the point where the change even amazes me. I'm 25, so still young, and my mind is keen and I'm attractive, I'm reasonably socially confident and I'm capable of both achieving goals and having fun.
Yet now and then, in quiet moments, I do feel as though something's missing. As though I'm idling, not moving through my life. As though I'll look back at this time of my life and remember it as 'that time when nothing in particular happened'.
My future always consisted of 'Work for Disney. Own awesome cats. Own a home. Write a book. Find someone to share my life with. Have a family. Grow old together.' That's basically all I ever wanted. I don't long for immortality, fame or wealth. The most specific and unusual of those desires, the Disney thing, has already been accomplished. I have a feeling I will have an easier time writing that book than I will when I try to do the rest. Somehow it's the everyday that eludes me...
To be fair to myself, I've already checked off the first two items and am working on the third. I should probably be working on the fourth, as right now the development is still all happening in my head, not on paper, and I can't keep using laptop issues as an excuse. If I were really ready to write, I could do it longhand. In the meantime, I'm just another one of those tossers who occasionally mentions That Book Which They May Or May Not Actually Ever Write.
It just feels like I'm stuck in a lull between Exciting Developments. I feel restless in the truest sense of the word: that is, unable to rest. I'm afraid of falling into a pattern of mediocrity because some of the things I want most out of life seem far out of reach right now. I was warned this might happen...
Still, it's up to me, so I guess I better shape up, eh?