Don’t want to say journey, but certainly a new Story. A new device, a new creative license licensed especially for me. The world gifting me more ideas and sights, conversations useful. No more overthinking, I tell myself in this cubicle. No music, like when I run. Just the sounds of the tractors out in that field clearing and preparing a field for a new vineyard. Listening to everything, studying everything.
Out of the wine industry, finally. Not that I’m bitter, or over-eager to get out, it’s just time. Very much time. And for my writing and travels, how I’m developing as a writer, this is what needs to happen. A new field, not so much a new job but something NEW, an exploration and new flight. A bridging of what I do here in the wine world, but with more dimension and facet, more intricacy and creativity-beg.
Older I get, I find work so funny. At times frankly hilarious, if you must know. Why… well, just what w put into it. How we see it. How so many of us want to get out of where we are, our job/jobs, but do nothing but grieve. We let the work, the JOB, have control over our senses and actions. With my new assignment and story, I’ve made quite clear I refuse angrily to allow such.
This day… like yesterday… strong. With no fear. Nothing getting to me. Have a meeting in 19 minutes downstairs but I’m going to utilize and weaponize every drop of this time to self. The cubicle I’m in, have to laugh. Not only does it make me think of Napa, ‘the box’ as I called it (office where I made calls for wineries for tailored sales campaigns), but how so many work in these things. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. And I won’t. Not only is that a choice, you could say, but a conviction. A functionality in my character.
Saw a picture this morning, one of those Facebook reminders, of me 8 years ago talking to a then-reality TV Show chef/contestant. Eight years ago, I said to myself just after brushing. EIGHT. Time as wife cited this morning passes without caring how it harms or saddens us. Today, NEW. NEWness. Enjoy…. And I will.
Hear those tractors. Wonder what they’re doing. My friend Chris downstairs not the crush pad frustrated with barrels and how many there are, how the barrel company crew is over 30 mins late. Again, work. What it does to us, shapes our moods and voices, conversations, how we walk and what ripples through the day. I sit and smile in this cubicle. New adventure, new words, only accepting elevation and happiness. Life, its lessons, not waiting for me. And they don’t have to. I’m here, already learning and noting, present, recording, writing. I, not failing. Time won’t let me. WORK, won’t let me. The new ME, definitely not allowing any back-steps.