Monday, March 27, 2006

One Ride Only

If I had ever been here before
I would probably know just what to do


Despite David Crosby's claims to the contrary at the end of that song ("We have all been here before"), and even if his claim is true, this is the life I'm living now, and I'm not always so much with the knowing just what to do. I keep trying to focus on the immediate necessities, because that's what I do: make croissants, manage our resources so we don't get backed into any more corners than necessary, do the mundane task(s) in front of me. Because, when you come down to it, the croissants won't make themselves. But I'm coming up hard against the realization that the things toward which I've been working may not be possible after all. Leave aside for a moment the interpersonal drama (yeah, go ahead and avoid the herd of elephants in the living room . . .): even if one has a good business plan, and reasonable financing, and even a moderately successful business to start (which is extremely unusual), this is still a very low-margin business, and there's not much profit to be had. At least for a few years, you really can't expect to make very much money; it's really more about the losing money in the first years. So I need a Plan B, as well as more detailed work on Plan A (all while shoveling elephant shit), even more than before. And, today at least, I don't have much energy. My brain has been deciding I don't need much sleep (I'm trying to convince myself that it's hormonal, which could be true, as that causal chain does work with me), which also doesn't help. And I need more exercise, except, wait, no handball--even now that the season is over, because S blew out his arm in the all-the-marbles-and-a-new-jacket championship match the other day, which totally sucks. (It might be a torn triceps, and, really, you don't want to be tearing any muscles if you can help it.) I need to do more yoga, I suppose.

I'm sorry; I've been short on details here, for two reasons. One is the privacy of others--I don't much care what people know about me, at least up to a point, but putting someone else's stuff out here has its limits for me, and I've probably even said more than I really wanted to say. The other, more important reason is that, even though words are one of my favorite media, words contain things, they fix things in an order, they shape what we think happened, what we think will happen next, what we think is going on. Sometimes that's useful--necessary, even--but sometimes it's better to let things kind of settle, let the words shape themselves, see what emerges rather than try to impose a structure. I don't know what the fuck will happen next, I often don't know what's happening now, and it's easier to make the croissants and do the side jobs and try not to think. Today, this morning--and yesterday, for that matter--the thinking is happening anyway. I suppose I should put it to good use and start developing a business plan or a database or something.

Plus I've apparently lost my wonderful, soft, colorful, polka-dotted, angora and wool scarf that one of my best friends sent me for Christmas. And it's still cold here. (Yeah, okay, that was just whining--unlike, say, the rest of this post, you say?--but still. I really liked the scarf a lot.)

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