I’ve been feeling pretty melancholy lately. I’m not really sure why that is – nothing’s really changed; things are still going well. I suppose it’s related to my general malaise resulting from the end of the busy season at work. Work is slow now, so I don’t really have a lot to do while I’m there. I’ve mostly been cleaning up my Outlook and answering a few questions here and there from people. I’m not complaining – I’m happy with the break from 12-16 hour days.
But I’m feeling directionless. Rudderless, if you will. I don’t so much mind drifting, but right now I feel as though I’m adrift without the proper supplies. Oh, I have things to read and plenty of food and whatnot, but this seems like a time when I should be rowing – there’s no wind blowing.
But I don’t know in what direction to start heading: there aren’t any islands nearby and I don’t particularly trust any of the mirages on the horizon that promise dry land. Dryland’s a myth.
Climbing those 29 mountains in the Catskills this winter was a good direction for me to have, but I don’t know that that trick will work twice. The next move is the Adirondack 46, but right now I’m waiting to hike Scott’s final 3 of the Catskill 35. Hopefully, we’ll be able to get that done this weekend and then I can continue my ADK list in earnest.
Still, I don’t think that’s a panacea.
I’m still procrastinating putting together a new inventory/priorities list – mostly because I’ve been over these things a million times in my head already. I know that things will become a bit more lucid once they’re on paper, but I don’t trust that I’ll find an answer there.
It’s a total chicken/egg thing with me right now: I’d put finding a mate at the top of the list, which means that I need to move. Sure, seeing Brooklyn/Manhattan as the promised land of dateable chicks is probably fantasy on my part, but that’s the only thread I can grasp at the moment. It makes no sense, however, for me to simply up-and-move to Brooklyn, though: while I might technically be able to handle it financially, the commute from NYC to NJ every day for work is stupid and I’d be spread unnecessarily thin moneywise. I have enough financial insecurity already that I don’t need to add that to the mix.
So dateable chicks = chicken and money = egg. Or vice-versa: however you want to look at it, dear reader – you always have options on this website.
So the money thing means looking at my job situation. Sure I’ve been getting regular bonuses and raises since I’ve been working at my current occupation, but the raises have basically been 3-5% cost-of-living salary increases (which are effectively not an increase at all about halfway through the new year) and the bonuses have been barely enough to cover taxes and some extra loot for xmas shopping at the end of the year. I need to be making about 50% more than I am right now, and those kind of raises really don’t happen.
So new job? Yeah, I’m thinking about it. “…the devil you know…” is, of course, not too far from these thoughts.
Maybe, now that I think about it, the chicken/egg analogy isn’t all that correct: it only really goes one way, insofar as finding a mate won’t lead to more money.
Crap. So it all comes down to finances.
F*ckit: I’m going to bed. I’ll be hiking this weekend and taking care of my brother’s dog Clyde.
Yeah, that’s the other thing I wanted to talk about: while I should have more free time as a result of work not being so busy, I don’t. The weeks fill right up, and when people talk about making plans for a couple of weeks or a month down the road, I balk. I wonder where/when I’ll find any ‘me’ time. I’ve been alone for long enough that I enjoy my solitude. This is not inconsistent with finding a mate, by the way. I’m not looking for someone to help me fill my free time – I’m looking for a mate in every sense of the word. A meaningful relationship that’s worth my time. Because time is my most precious commodity.