It is extraordinarily unfair that when I am happy I find I have nothing to write about, and when I am unhappy I lack the wherewithal to bring my numerous thoughts together on the page. How I have ever written anything at all seems a complete mystery. But happy or unhappy; content or blank, there is still, always, a small part of me that longs to put something out into the world. The sight of new posts hovering under my blog’s heavy header satisfies me and quenches my thirst for novelty.
It isn’t that I lack a creative impulse when I am happy; happiness, for me, is borne out of certainty. It comes from knowing that the basic structure of my life is in place, strong and sturdy; it isn’t necessarily the promise of exciting new things or life-changing events; it’s the knowledge that if such things occur, I will still come home to comfort, security, and a productive routine. A weekend spent in the arms of lovers will please me, but what makes me happy is knowing the real life I return to on Monday is steady. But the creative impulse, in this instance of happiness, is to make plans. I want to create lists; places to visit, projects to work on, study plans – which will most likely be made with good intentions and forgotten in laziness. I want to save money and learn to drive; or perhaps start a fund that will allow me to go to more conferences; or buy a new lens for my camera. I want to find a little flat for one and furnish it all by myself. This is where my creative impulse is currently leading me. It is alive and well, but does not, perhaps, lend itself particularly well to writing.
Nevertheless, I am writing.
Yesterday I spent the day with the company I will be working for come September. Having kindly granted me a week off in October in order to attend Eroticon USA, they requested that I come in for five days over the course of June and July to make up the time I will be away. Expecting to be set to work reorganising the files, or given some similarly dull office task, I was delighted to be called into an impromptu meeting with the two other women in my department, wherein my duties, hours, and salary for September were negotiated and laid out clearly. Without even asking for it, I was given certainty and structure; and, I might add, very reasonable and pleasing work hours.
Having been unemployed for a year now, the prospect of a steady job is endlessly pleasing. I can’t wait to start; I can’t wait to be part of the working world, putting something out, and being paid for it! But the pleasantries of the near future do not begin and end with employment. Within the next couple of weeks my degree modules for 2013/14 will be announced and confirmed and then I will not only have a clear schedule in terms of work, but also in terms of studying. I will be able to map out my week and see how it all fits together. Then, in early August, my brother is moving in with his girlfriend. Whilst I will miss him, I will not miss cleaning up after him, and I am looking forward to reclaiming my sitting room (where he is presently living). I am also looking forward to a little more household income in his absence. It will be nice to have only two mouths to feed instead of three.
Over the past year my family has seen too little money, and too much illness. Being unemployed has not only meant scraping by on pennies, but also lacking a daily structure and routine. Not to mention the abundance of time I have had to ponder ailing relatives and lost loves. The situation has not suited me well. But now, with loved ones recovering, and the future slowly materialising, structured and steady, I am beginning to calm; beginning to make plans again. I have certainty. And while it may not lend itself to particularly scintillating writing, it does make me very happy indeed.