This morning, after dropping Viva off at preschool, I had breakfast with a friend of mine. We are not old friends, and we are not best friends, but she is one of those people that you can speak your whole mind to. She is articulate; she is brilliant; she is well-read; she is principled; and she is really fucking funny. I admire her a great deal.
After we ate, we went for a walk, and as it turned out, I spent my entire "No Viva" time with her. The whole morning! We just would not shut up. We talked politics and capitalism and feminism and ethics. We talked about the mundanities of everyday life. We talked about one's life purpose and careers and family and what the next step for each of us might be.
Well, for her, it's business school. She has been accepted to one of the top programs in the country and she'll be moving east in July.
For me, it's not so clear-cut. I want to write, and yet I have not made that happen. Not yet. So here I sit, after having this thought-provoking discussion, and I have no answers, and here is a quote for you to ponder:
There is never enough time for writing. It is a parallel universe where the days, inconveniently, are also twenty-four hours long. Every moment spent in one's real life is a moment missed in one's writing life, and vice versa. - Gish Jen
This pretty much encapsulates how I have been feeling. I am going to work this, though, so help me God.