I feel such a weird frustration at this juncture of my life... It's exemplified in my work situation, in which I KNOW that I have a great job, in which I'm paid very well to sculpt all day, I have flexibility galore, my boss knows and trusts me and is a friend, and... I get to sculpt all day! But I also have all this frustration about the fact that I'm doing essentially the same thing over and over. And for whatever reason I feel like I'm regressing to an earlier, less social version of myself in which I submerge myself in my work and don't connect with coworkers.
I'm wallowing in the negative view.

What makes me happy is going home and being with my Ross and my Toad and my yard and my house. What makes me happy is going climbing with my dear friends and pushing my mental and physical limits. What makes me happy is pulling weeds from my garden and lawn, and moving plants and watching plants grow. What makes me happy is doing things that I don't have to do but want to do anyway. What makes me happy is reading books... but then I become frustrated when I think about the fact that at one point in my life I yearned to write science fiction books and could have if I had sufficient gumption/encouragement/dedication. I get frustrated and angry. Maybe I am only now dealing with anger that has built up for a long time. And maybe some of that anger is aimed at myself, which leads me into a difficult and unproductive cycle of frustration and self-blame and guilt and bad feeling. It is SO difficult to be proactive and positive.
Of course even in writing that I think that some people do not find it so difficult, and if only I could be one of those positive people... and thus begins the cycle of guilt and blame.

I'm frustrated that I'm not and have never been ambitious. And because of the peculiar state that I've been in, I find it easy to blame my parents for my lack of ambition. It's not particularly fair, but there it is. Maybe this is a step along the way to truly owning my own lack of ambition. If so I should be celebrating.

The truth is that I could start writing the great american novel tomorrow. It is not too late for anything, ever. How's that for a positive thought? And here's another: I can do stuff. So do it - now. That's part of the point of this blog.