Sundays used to be the day people went to church or slept in. Big dinners were served and grandma and grandpa, even aunts, uncles, and cousins were important. It used to be a day where everything shut down except ones self. It used to be a day of rest and a time to reflect. Not anymore.
In my idea world, I’d be sleeping right now, maybe til nine am. I ‘d wake up and curl into my hubby’s warm body and we’d make love taking our time knowing we’d have no where to rush to. After, we’d lay there for a few minutes, maybe doze off for a little while longer.
Breakfast would happen in the middle of the day. Some eggs over easy with bagels. Maybe even some cream cheese and lox.
The rest of the day would be spent piddling around, self reflecting and journaling. Or, spending some time in one of our near-by parks walking or biking. Maybe I’d go see my sister, my dad, my brother, and some of my grown daughters.
This is my idea day off but it doesn’t exist, not even on my day off. Every Sunday I rush to get to work like a million other Americans. This my friend is what progress has brought us to. Futuristic slavery. No rest and little time to pursue your personal dreams.
Yup. Shelly is feeling the stress, the body aches, and the exhaustion that comes with pursuing a dream. My life is being strangled by a corporate schedule bending me to be flexible for them, not me. But my dream lives on and my fingers continue to peck at the keyboards. My brain never stops. I refuse to be anybody’s slave. Some how, some way, I’ll break free from the corporate chains that bind me.
One day, I’ll have my day to putz around and rest. One day my world will evolve around me. Not me, around it. It’s coming one word and one chapter at a time.
Okay, enough of that blah..blah…blah.
What’s your idea Sunday or day off? How do you see progress in the 21st century? How are you guys dealing with American slavery and following your dream?
Happy blogging, reading,and writing!!!
Shelly
P.S. I’d rather be working on my writing today.
I love the quiet of the mornings, a perfect cup of coffee and a good book. Birds are busy fluttering about, reading themselves for the impending arrival of mating season. A light breeze is blowing, just enough to bring in the aroma of the early spring flowers. I sneak out to the front porch, leaving my sleeping wife in the bed and settle myself into a soft chair. With my feet propped up, I slip on my reading glasses, open the book resting in my lap and dive into the world that waits within. Just an hour, maybe two is all I ask, before the world awakes and the hustle and bustle of life starts all over again.
ReplyDeleteHold fast to your dreams.
ReplyDeleteI'm happy to be working again but I need to stay focused on my dream of publishing my novel.
@ Tyro:
ReplyDeleteThat was beautiful.
Shelly, I got a lump in my throat when I read this post. I relate on so many levels. You spoke my heart into words. We've got to hold on to our dreams. If we don't, then who will. Here at the Writer's Digest Conference in New York, I'm meeting so many writers whose dreams are coming true. I wish you were here.
ReplyDeleteJodee:
ReplyDeleteI'm hanging on no matter what.