Hobbies, Habits and Hobbits?

 My brother David has dedicated his life to the game of basketball. It's his entertainment, his source of income, and passion. It always was, it always will be. And he works damn hard at it. My friend Beth practically runs the local church where she is the children's pastor. She keeps the office moving, writes curriculum and acts as a leader day in and day out. And ya, she works hard because that church...well it's her life. And she's good at it. My mom is a gardener. I can promise you this is true because I spent the greater part of my child hood hiding in bushes when it was time to do yard work. My brothers and I also grew to hate the "garden center" of Fred Meyer and til this day I get a strange headache when I walk by it. She works at a Nursery in town handing out plant advice and stocking the home/garden center with it's various knick knacks and decor. She's good at her job, she likes her job (mostly) and basically she's the queen of plants. My friend Lavenda searched around for awhile trying to find her niche, but when she finally settled on photography she never had to look again. She must have been meant to do it all along, because her work is beautiful. She has a successful photography business and I wouldn't be surprised to see her work in Vanity Fair someday. It's true, I'll be sitting in the doctor's office when I'm 50 about to get a mammogram and there her pictures will be, staring back at me from a magazine while a nurse squishes my boob.

I digress.

Me? Well I'm what you call a hobby hobbit. I creep around my little apartment (when I'm not working) sorta wondering what to even do with all the thoughts in my head. Do I put them on paper? Do I put them on paper and then burn them? I have a box containing every card or note that's been written to me in the last 6 years. I'm a bit of a dress whore, I own far too many. I'm interested in becoming a labor doula or midwife. I make greeting cards. I write nonsense. I'm decently good looking and a little overweight. Okay, now I sound like Bridgett Jones.

My boyfriend is the same way. He's saving money to buy a flying machine one moment, and the next moment grinding flour in his apartment to make homemade bread. All while writing a screenplay and brewing beer simultaneously. He calls this liking variety. It seems to work for him and I love him for it. 

However, my cycle of never ending unfinished dreams, projects, and goals leave me feeling paralyzed.

 The question is....should I paint, sketch, write....or just scream? I don't have time to paint because aren't I suppose to be out helping people or selling all my clothing to buy a small community in Tibet a yak? How about I just watch hulu.com instead? And it's like that. I can't quite get myself together or figure out exactly where I fit in this world. 

And maybe....just maybe....that's how most of us are. We are decent enough at a few little things. And those few little things will bring us great joy every once in awhile on a peaceful day, in a work free moment of quiet. Maybe that's how it is for all the people who seem to have it all figured out and excel at one thing. I don't really know. 

I would be lying, however, if I said I didn't feel like I'm letting some unspoken loveliness pass me by. I can taste it, smell it....but I can't name it. It whispers at me.

Oh....I'll find it, but damn....it's annoying.