The crux of it

I had some time to reread my blog. Yes, I just blogged about not having enough time for anything, now suddenly I'm blogging every two days and rereading posts to boot.

Life is weird like that.

In rereading some posts, I realized what a crazed, whiny nutbrain I sound like. Granted, life is chaotic right now (two kids, two working parents, overeager grandparents), but I want do better. I want to see better.

The first step is this.

The second step is...well, the second step is usually the harder one, isn't it? The second step is when you actually get off the pot, then the ensuing steps kind of fall into place.

One hopes.

All I know is this: Last week I tacked up the following quote from Anaïs Nin on my wall at work. My co-workers have since accused me of being a nerd. I don't care. They don't get it:

“You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book… or you take a trip… and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom (when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death): absence of pleasure. That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness. Monotony, boredom, death. Millions live like this (or die like this) without knowing it. They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children. And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death. Some never awaken.”

I think I am going to quit.