Writing In Bed Enjoy The Sirens Marianna Tabares

“You know, if you got a weekend job, you could make some extra money.”

I rolled my eyes at this painfully obvious statement.

“It’ll help you keep busy and you won’t feel so depressed and your head will be clear.”

I picked my eyes up off the floor, popped them back in, then snapped, “Who’s depressed?”

“What’d you say?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“Well, these are just ideas. Just giving you some suggestions.”

I suggested the conversation end. My mom means well, but I feel she’s trying to have pep talks that would have been more relevant about ten years ago while I was still in college, but even then, I was working 2-3 jobs while studying full time.

Just before I turned 29, I tried planning ahead in case I ran out of cool ideas for what to do with myself and bought a book called 30 Things To Do When You Turn 30. The book suggests a lot of great endeavors that could bring me right out of a mundane routine instead of sulking about the house when I can’t think of what to write. I’ve recently thought about looking up literary events where I might meet other writers. I’ve already imagined a romantic and torrid fling with a troubled, creative man who I will meet after he reads his awful poetry in some seedy bar’s backroom. I’ve imagined us lying lazily on the couches in his living room on Saturday afternoons as we sip whiskey, write stories, and he takes smoke breaks. Then as soon as he says something condescending, I yell and run out crying and go write in my diary about him.

Was I supposed to be very mature by now? I feel I had a chance, maybe about four years ago, to fully enter into being the kind of adult that pays a mortgage, marries someone, raises a kid or two, and has a 401k. I’ve changed my mind about all of these things and taught myself that if I really want kids, I can just borrow them from someone who already has them. There’s always a friend whose got a cool kid that you can take out for the afternoon and then hand right back as soon as the fun’s over.  I wouldn’t even have to be responsible for his or her psychological damage.

I could absolutely get that second job and rake in a few extra dollars that would pay for gas, booze, and Taco Bell, but I love the remaining hours of the day that I get to spend alone in my room. I like that with my job I can afford to pay for my own car, rent and have the rest of the time to drum up ideas for stories as well as give that time over to crossword puzzles and writing. One day, if some handsome man tricks me into using my superior genes for procreation, I won’t have this free time anymore. Even if now I spend it complaining or feeling bummed out, it’s still time that belongs to me.

I sit and listen to the odd noises in the neighborhood. There’s a dog that sounds like an old woman grunting, some dad across the street who yells too much when kicking the soccer ball around with his kids, and sirens. Always sirens. Even as I write this I can hear them mixing with the horn a woman honks as she pushes a shopping cart full of corn on the cob and pork rinds for sale. There’s going to come a day when I am settling into something new, years away from all of this, and someone other than my mom will be yelling for me to come downstairs and be around.

 Attractive sad girl lying on the bed in her room via ShutterShock

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  1. There is a little part of me that wants what you have. That part of me shows up usually after I dutifully write out my weekly budget and realize that I don’t care if the cable gets paid or the cell phone shuts off. I tell my self that if I had more time I’d make my movie or cut that album. I try hard to convince myself that responsibility is cool. It’s just responsibility. I don’t even have to stick with it if I don’t want but I do because, in a way, I think I’m addicted to the melancholy that comes from not achieving anything.

    • What do I have?
      Sometimes I think about how it’s really not important if I pay the cell phone bill and to hell with it all, but I sincerely enjoy being connected with friends. I can text a pal something funny or annoy twitter with my weird statements.
      You have to achieve anything, even if you start small. I feel so much better about myself when I finally conclude a piece of writing and can publish it, whether it be here, or amazon.

  2. I feel like I have had the same conversation with my mother, more than once. After reading this it makes me realize that I should appreciate my free, quiet time alone instead of dwelling on it as I sometimes do. I do love my quiet time but sometimes I feel like I have too much of it, so instead I will just cherish it because I know it won’t be like this forever.

    • Definitely. I remember when I was in my earlier 20′s, I used to freak out about having a Friday without anything to do. It seemed like every week we all had something going on, either a date or going to a bar as a group. But some time after college and once I started on a teaching career, my feelings changed. It might be that becoming overloaded with work had an influence on that, but now, I don’t have as much work to bring home. In fact, I have none.
      I don’t get wound up anymore about staying in on the weekends. It might also be the fact that there’s so much entertainment online that I didn’t used to have back then. There’s a constant “chatter” when I check twitter, tumblr, and facebook. The rest of the time, when I’m not reading social media timelines, is quiet time and I get to reflect on all things having to do with me.
      I talk to so many great moms and they mention how much they crave some time to themselves, and that has definitely influenced the way I feel about having quiet time here at home. Cherish is a great word for it, and I think you’re on the right track. Though there’s so much going on in the world, you’re still your own person and those personal moments, no matter how many you have in abundance, are so precious and valuable.

  3. Loved your article. I feel quite similarly. Today is my day off, I should be blood-letting my brain to paper. Instead I am sipping coffee, thinking about my uselessness, reading blogs, and letting every creak and groan from this empty house taunt me. Perhaps I will pour a tumblr of rye and set up some still-lifes for Instagrammin’.

    • Haha! Well there’s nothing wrong with that. I love enjoying the quieter moments, the not perfectly silent ones, but just the ones where you’re not exactly worrying about tasks that have to do with other people. Just personal moments to get in touch with your own desires and interests, as it is very easy to quickly lose sight of what you’re into and why you’re into it.

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