Failed at Segue, return to Go

Yes, I got the promotion. I have graduated from level-8 peon to level-7 peon-- sound the trumpets, let the wild rumpus begin. Benefits of movin' on up (cue the Jeffersons soundtrack here) include: a decent pay raise, an additional week of paid vacation, and most importantly, getting recognition for doing the work. Because I'd already been taught how to open accounts and etc, I know that even if I stayed in my position my managers would have me doing accounts, doing desk work, all the time.; even if I was only being paid for being a teller with only a teller's responsibilities. I figured that if I'm going to have the extra work and more responsibilies, I might as well have the title and the money, right? Right.
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I have had a realization, lately. Not an epiphany, but- a slowly dawning recognition that in the past year or so, I haven't been doing any of the things I like to do. The things that make me happy. Baking. Cooking. I still do maintenance-level cooking, fixing dinner and all that. But cooking for fun? Trying new recipes? Bringing homemade baked goods to work? Haven't done that hardly at all since moving here. My quilting stuff--fabric, patterns, half-finished quilt-top-- is still in its box. I haven't used any of it, haven't taken a single stich. This time last year, I was working on my quilt every day. I used to sketch blueprints, house plans, all the time. I would read architecture books, get inspired, and then draw and draw. I'm no artist, but it is something that I love to do; I can visualize exactly how what I'm drawing in plan would look-- window seats, fireplaces, staircases, dormer bedrooms. I haven't even had to buy a new enormous-graph-paper-pad since coming here. My piano gets dusted more often than played, and it's hardly ever dusted. Even just listening to music, as though picking out a CD is too much trouble or something. The funny thing is that I don't know why, and I don't know what it means. Am I depressed? Bored? I don't know. I don't know if it has anything to do with the move, or if the move just makes it more noticable because it's such a concrete way to measure time: since coming to Virginia, XYZ has/ hasn't happened. I'm confused because these little things are what defines us, to an extent; so who have I been this past year? But I have decided to do something highly unusual for me: to take action instead of just thinking and thinking.

I've decided that the best thing to do is just to start doing everything again and worry later about why I unthinkingly stopped in the first place. So in the last two weeks, I've been baking bread; I've been making huge batches of broth and freezing meals'-worths of soup from the end-of-summer CSA bounty. Going to the farmer's market. Playing the piano, sketching houses. This weekend, I will clear off the table that I set up for quilting, and unpack my quilting box. It's like getting re-aquainted with an old friend: why hello, self. You enjoy this, remember? See how good it is?