What is enough?

What is it to have enough? What is it to be enough? Maybe I am just sick of being sick; maybe the sinus ache has leaked into my existential state... Maybe it is not enough sleep, or too much cleaning, shopping, feeding, eating....Maybe it is too much quiet time and reading.

I just re-read The Hours, which boils down to be about how life incrementally robs you of your essence, tamps you down into some weird semblance of something you never wanted to be, until you no longer are at all, either violently and suddenly, or just step by tiny step until you wake up and don't recognize yourself.

I still remember what I wrote once, furiously, in my scrawled-upon, duct-taped high school journal, leaning it as I wrote against my fish-netted legs stuck defiantly into combat boots-- who said you couldn't be sexy AND kick ass-- I wrote about how "responsibilities" were the adult excuse for embracing banality.

Who was I 20 years ago that I thought I would never be here, walking dogs, paying bills, schlepping in and out of a 9-to-5 job that is just exactly that, no more, no less? Did I think I wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep? That I would have no responsibilities, no bills? That I would be above it all?

Here I am, so NOT above it all.

Yep, it's Holiday season again, and yep, I'm one of those who uses it as an excuse to let all the ennui and angst that has accumulated over the year rise to the surface, an opportunity to air out the pond scum of my soul.