Good afternoon, Wednesday. It's so gloomy outside and it's taking its toll on my mood. Though I am romantically in love with the weather of Wuthering Heights, in reality it is no bueno for my spirit. I'm feeling a bit wilted and really would love some sunshine soon pretty please. I can't handle much more mist, and neither can my hair for that matter. I love Emily Bronte, but enough's enough.
But weather aside, I'm coming clean- it's no secret I've been feeling a little bit stuck of late, and though it feels terribly indulgent to talk about it, talk about it I must.
So in my home in Brooklyn, I have a beautiful and not tiny yard- this is it above- and I'm not even showing you that there's a whole other side to it that belongs to us too. It is full of trees and grass and flowers. It's nice. But I have no idea what in heck to do with it.
I stare at it often as I watch Khan use the yard as his personal pee and poo zone and wonder why I can't seem to wrap my head around decorating such a magical and rare space in a town like New York. Summers come and go and the garden and yard remain barren- yes we have a grill, some version of a garden, and a table and chairs on the deck but man, it's hard not to imagine how much more spectacular it could be back there. Yea, by now you're thinking I'm a little baby bitchface who is whining about a backyard, but really, I'm paralyzed by its possibilities, and I can't get past it.
I have no green thumb whatsoever, but surely I could have someone help me craft this space into something magical. And yes, there are these places that sell outdoor furniture called stores where I can go and pick out some great pieces that would work for dinners and parties al fresco all throughout the Spring and Summer. But more often than not, I get daunted and distracted by the potential of said yard and well, it remains the provenance of my dog Khan, and really, a sad spot that could be oh so much more. That's pretty much how I feel about my career.
As someone who has steadily freelanced for years on end, I've reached a point where I'm happy to still do it, but I'm ready for something more. I've mentioned being torn between wanting to write full time and wanting to use my years of experience to start some sort of outfit that speaks to my expertise in production. So let's talk about it.
I have been gifted with a lovely yard in the sense that I am fortunate to have done some amazing work in my life, and I can see the potential of many more years of great work to come. But lacking the ability (just like in my yard) to make things grow and prosper and bloom is a real problem of mine. And just as I have no place to sit with friends and drink rose in my big time yard, I have no place to sit and craft the next phase of my career. And though I know I could speak to many people about what's next, I hesitate, because I am still staring at a big, blank space. It's green and fertile and lovely, but there's nothing going on there. And though I have a vision, I'm having trouble tending and caring for its growth. What to do about that? I suppose the answer is not to hide under the covers, right? Right. I know. If I do that, I will never be able to enjoy that damn yard.
Perhaps if I get my yard in Brooklyn in order, the rest will follow. You're all invited to my first party there. Let's all pray that it takes place this Summer, and not the Summer of yet another year gone by. Sometimes a metaphor is apt, and that's the truth. Cause that's what's up this tending to my garden kind of Wednesday in the 718. Yours, in fixing up, looking sharp, and hopefully getting it right. XO