Something about eggs, baskets and wanting to smash them all

Running with the rats through the city
Makes you feel like you’re a partner in crime
Girl, once you were young and pretty
Now won’t you stop to watch that little girl die …

I know you want to curse
This place
There’s only one thing
That’s stopping us now is

Fear, fear, fear
Of a new thing
Fear, fear, fear
Of the brass ring.”

— Bon Jovi, “Fear”

I saw one of my friends who had to work today posting their lack of enjoyment of it. I worked a bit too, from home. I’ve got to let a lot of dogs use this hydrant and I’m woefully behind.

I had one of those mini-revelations this weekend. I’m thinking that I don’t like the publishing world anymore. I’m sick of being beholden to constant deadlines. Daily deadlines.

I mean, I usually thrive with them. But I’d give my life to take a week off to meditate (or medicate) and then come back full-force without the entire world having changed without me.

Maybe I need to move fully into marketing. Or management. Or copywriting. I think a combination of each. Even though I love love love editorial more than everything else combined. I just … need to do a job switch for a little while.

Or a life switch. Whichever.

I’ve given up everything in my life to have a great career. I’ve lost hundreds of friends, thousands of hours with people I love, opportunities to go on dates and maybe even get coupled-up, the chance to have a kid … maybe the chance to have kids entirely, and trips and vacations and all kinds of other stuff that could have changed the course of my life.

But it’s OK … I’ve given my heart to my career. I’m now at the point of “What if it wasn’t worth it” or “Maybe I’ve had my priorities fucked up” or “If I just keep going, just push as hard as I can for as long as I can, it’ll all pay off, right?”

The still, small voice in my head said to me today, “You’re afraid of losing all you’ve achieved so far.” And it was right.

I fear that my life, uninspiring though it may be right now, could crumble. And I couldn’t handle waking up to anything less-thrilling than the way things are now.

I guess I just want to know that everything I gave up, everything I continue to GIVE up, isn’t being done in vain. That there will be a nice retirement, a travel fund, good health, and people to love me at the end of all this.

I know there are no guarantees. And I don’t know whether to risk what I’ve got on the shot of getting more, or just keep chugging and hoping that by staying in one place, luck will finally know where to find me.

What would you do, if you didn’t know what to do?

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