I'm bored.
Not only am I suffering from scandal fatigue, I'm bored out of my skull. As another tourism season winds down, and visitors diminish to a mere trickle here in the southwest, I am ready for a completely different life. I am bored silly with this business; frankly, I've done all that I planned to do and SO much more since we moved here. I'm ready for a change, but I don't think I'll ever be tired of hiking in beautiful places.
I'm troubled a bit and haven't been sleeping well at night. I feel as though I've missed other opportunities and callings in life that were inscrutable to me at that moment in the past, but now haunt me like some kind of embarrassing video moment I'd rather forget. I know I'm not an ignorant person, but looking back it seems that I was simply blinded in a most unattractive manner by the petty emotional dramas that overtake twenty-somethings. I'll be 40 next spring, and although I am proud of my accomplishments in business, I am decidedly less than pleased with my cultural and intellectual pursuits. Living in the middle of nowhere does not allow for much of that, unfortunately. I had no choice at the time to do anything else but leave the city and its opportunities. After years of character-crushing attempts at corporate America, I made the choice to be in nature, not in the un-real world of cities.
Yesterday, I went on a wonderful hike. There really is a canyon named Coyote Gulch; it is one of the most beautiful places in the world and most assuredly on my top ten list of favorite places anywhere. I volunteer with the park service and I was asked to help tend to some trail housekeeping in Coyote Gulch. It sprinkled lightly the whole day, and when a breeze blew the yellow Cottonwood leaves would fall into the stream and float away in the red world that is this canyon. It was so beautiful and calming; fall is my favorite time of year anyway, but fall inside a deep, red-walled canyon is indescribable in its bright yellow and copper red color palette. I'm not sure how the hiking anywhere else will compare to the hiking here. I can always come back and visit, I suppose. The reality of living in a very small town in very remote Utah has great drawbacks, unfortunately. Hiking is not one of those drawbacks; small-minded people and general unavailability of culture, goods, and services are.
I'm at an emotional and intellectual crossroads. From what I understand, these places are few and far between in the course of a life, thank goodness. My husband is also at a turning point, and we're ready for a new adventure in life. I suppose I should make a list of the things I would like to have near to me when we move so I know where we may begin looking for our new home. This kind of freedom of choice is rare in America. Altough Americans are a free people, sometimes debt and family obligations conspire to tie us down. Luckily, I do not have those problems. I think having many choices to choose from in life can also be a problem. I can only hope that my years in business, my wisdom and thoughtfulness from being outdoors, and my ever-curious mind will guide me to the right decision. I would just hate to look back at this moment in life and think, "Gee...I should have made a right turn at Albuquerque."
I'm troubled a bit and haven't been sleeping well at night. I feel as though I've missed other opportunities and callings in life that were inscrutable to me at that moment in the past, but now haunt me like some kind of embarrassing video moment I'd rather forget. I know I'm not an ignorant person, but looking back it seems that I was simply blinded in a most unattractive manner by the petty emotional dramas that overtake twenty-somethings. I'll be 40 next spring, and although I am proud of my accomplishments in business, I am decidedly less than pleased with my cultural and intellectual pursuits. Living in the middle of nowhere does not allow for much of that, unfortunately. I had no choice at the time to do anything else but leave the city and its opportunities. After years of character-crushing attempts at corporate America, I made the choice to be in nature, not in the un-real world of cities.
Yesterday, I went on a wonderful hike. There really is a canyon named Coyote Gulch; it is one of the most beautiful places in the world and most assuredly on my top ten list of favorite places anywhere. I volunteer with the park service and I was asked to help tend to some trail housekeeping in Coyote Gulch. It sprinkled lightly the whole day, and when a breeze blew the yellow Cottonwood leaves would fall into the stream and float away in the red world that is this canyon. It was so beautiful and calming; fall is my favorite time of year anyway, but fall inside a deep, red-walled canyon is indescribable in its bright yellow and copper red color palette. I'm not sure how the hiking anywhere else will compare to the hiking here. I can always come back and visit, I suppose. The reality of living in a very small town in very remote Utah has great drawbacks, unfortunately. Hiking is not one of those drawbacks; small-minded people and general unavailability of culture, goods, and services are.
I'm at an emotional and intellectual crossroads. From what I understand, these places are few and far between in the course of a life, thank goodness. My husband is also at a turning point, and we're ready for a new adventure in life. I suppose I should make a list of the things I would like to have near to me when we move so I know where we may begin looking for our new home. This kind of freedom of choice is rare in America. Altough Americans are a free people, sometimes debt and family obligations conspire to tie us down. Luckily, I do not have those problems. I think having many choices to choose from in life can also be a problem. I can only hope that my years in business, my wisdom and thoughtfulness from being outdoors, and my ever-curious mind will guide me to the right decision. I would just hate to look back at this moment in life and think, "Gee...I should have made a right turn at Albuquerque."
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