taking the passive out of passive-aggressive

Monday, July 07, 2003

Everything’s becoming more and more mine—waste a night, there it goes, no one to blame but myself; run ten miles, feel the pain, no one to blame but myself. At the same time: behave well, go to sleep on time, wake up feeling good-hey I did that, no one else, I can take the credit. This responsibility is new to me, or at least the perception of it. I can’t really believe that the way in which I affect my own world is not at all mystical but pragmatic. How boring! How utterly true.

So I guess it is, after all, really up to me. What I make of my life, How I choose to spend my time. This should be an obvious thing, right, at thirty? But no! Of course it’s not, this is me, Claire. I should be able to smoke a pack of cigarettes and not feel it—do anything and not feel it—I’m above the law. But now it seems really clear that my time is limited—not in the helpless, shit-I’m –actually-gona-die way of my twenties but really, what am I going to spend this time doing? meditating over candles??? dreaming big dreams? No, possibly getting some sleep and gardening? That’s more like it, in a way.

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