Free time

I left my job so that I'd have more free time. And for that I'm a better runner, a better mom, though just as bad a friend. But the worst part of this new pace is that I have too much free time. It gives me hours to think about whether I'm working enough, whether I'm loving enough, where I'm failing and falling short.

This constant self-evaluation is sometimes crippling. I had PMS to blame on my moodiness the last two weeks, but now that's over and in between happy times, I'm tearful, or on the verge of tears. By the way, do not watch Hotel Rwanda when you're feeling this way unless you need confirmation of what a fucked up world we live in. (Lesson learned yesterday)

Sometimes I think all I need is to be busier--more assignments, more appointments to be at, more people to interview. It was hard to dwell on things and to hang onto people's words for too long when you had a ton of things on your plate. But when your most important decision of the day is whether to make chicken with red onions or with a Thai coconut sauce, you find yourself wondering how you got to where you are.

There are happy times. And what keeps me going is this proverb I once read that said "There is no happiness, just happy moments." And I do have happy moments. And like an addict, I find myself often just looking for the next high.

Performance review

So it's going on a year now that I've left the paper, and I can finally say that if presented with even the ripest package to go back, I'd turn it down. Don't get me wrong, I still miss it. I miss the deadlines that aren't three months out, the immediate gratification of seeing your work done quickly, and the people...God do I miss the people.

But I do like picking up my kid on my bike (he rides on the handlebars) now that the weather's nicer. And even though we're not gathered around the table doing enriching activities, I'm still there for them.

The freelance life is still as tough as ever, but I think that as I'm checking off goals I've accomplished, I automatically set the bar higher. And when I don't immediately move up to the next level, I'm pissed. No, I'm actually in a deep black hole. Things seem pretty hopeless, and I imagine they'll never get better. It's weird feeling this way when you know that you're not being realistic, and that you just need to keep things in perspective. It's like looking at yourself from the outside and seeing that your way of thinking is totally wrong, but you still can't convince yourself otherwise.

Anyway, that little episode lasted a few days. I'm over it now. I've set some revised goals for myself, sort of like I would have at my old job. I interviewed one guy who was amazed I was writing for one particular magazine he had tried to break into for months. He was even more surprised I had been freelancing for less than a year. "Yeah, it's a different world," I said. He agreed, based on his friends' assessments, who had gushed about how much better the freelance life is. I secretly wondered who his friends are, and what kind of assignments they're getting.

It isn't the most positive thing you can say to yourself, but things aren't as bad as they seem.