I've received many queries about my new job, my house hunting. I feel I've been neglecting this blog. But the truth is, as I look at the blank page I find I'm empty. As I read another blog that I may find moving, I'm at a loss for words to comment or react. I feel mute and shy suddenly. I fell overwhelmed by my own past abundance of thoughts. I feel like a stranger.
I've been ill. I started with a nasty flu two weeks ago that is still hanging on to this day. I live at a very high altitude, and this makes any kind of shortness of breath that much harder. Isn't poignant that my loss for words is accompanied by my very real loss of breath? Isn't that rich?
I started a new job. This new job has been surprisingly easy. The truth is that my real job as a translator is much harder than anything I have seen thus far on the outside. Being my own boss, managing my own time, placing a monetary value on what I do, knowing that any single mistake could cost me, trying to get my impossibly late and tightwad Italian clients to pay, closing the door to my office when I'm not working, even only in a symbolic sense, are all so much harder. Suddenly I'm complimented daily on my efficiency and organization, which in truth to me is no effort. I am running my own tiny office and really have no supervision as long as things get done. And I get this wonderful thing, a paycheck, every two weeks. I am still translating, but I am working only for my favorite clients. Not bad at all.
We are house hunting. The excitement over house hunting is in a neck and neck race with our anxiety over coming up with the down payment. Patience is not one of my virtues and never has been. And the four of us have been living in such tight quarters for so long that the dream of a house on the hillside is so big, so tantalizing, that I am constantly reining myself in. It will happen, but not soon enough for me.
My mother and sister in law are arriving for a visit on Friday... Did you hear that? Did you hear the cannonball that I just dropped through the floor? Enough said. I promise to try and write about that in a coherent fashion, but for now I am steadfastly refusing to think about it.
So that's it. The secrets I cannot seem to write about. The blender in my head.