Sunday

So here I sit.
It's Sunday evening and my photographic working week is metaphorically hitting it's Friday afternoon, while my other job working week is hiding just over the horizon and spying at me through a telescope. Fighting a headcold and a to-do list that's far too bloody long; I realise how tired I am starting to feel.

Some nights it is a good tired, weary from doing great creative work and fun things, tired from the euphoric adrenaline enriched buzz of taking a ton of great pictures that tell someone's story. Whereas other nights, like tonight, it is just a plain and simple weary, everything aches and I want to stop the ride for a few hours, type tired.

In the great bar of life there are so many shots to drink, and here I sit feeling like someone just handed me the keys to the place and told me to go nuts while nursing a bitching hangover before I have even uncorked the first bottle. In some ways this could be considered paying ones dues I suppose; not getting what you want unless you push hard and work hard to get it and all that. I'm fine with that in principle, but I would just every now and again like to sit and stare out of the window and watch the world without a care for a while, and without feeling I should be pushing on to finish this, that, or the other.

So dear reader, whomever or wherever you are, if indeed you are anyone at all other than in my head, I bid you a weary good evening, and hope that you have an enriching and personally fulfilling week doing whatever it is that you do to bring you peace and happiness. May you never be too tired to pull up a chair and try a new cocktail or two for the fun of it, and just watch it all go by for a few hours.