I have been twice-weekly blogging for a British website called LoveKnitting, and the respnose and experience has been fantastic. While I admit I need to brush up on my British English a bit, the writing has been successful. To give you an idea of what I write, here is the most recent post:
And while I still write my Examiner.com column, these past two months have been difficult keeping up since I moved and changed jobs, blah blah blah. But here is the fun part...this is the reason I decided to blog today as it is. More than just to say hello, I am a bit full of discovery and felt like sharing with the masses.
This was my sixteenth move in nineteen years. I know it is not my last...when I walked through my condo for the first time, my first thought was "Ooh...dollar signs!" and my second thought was, "Hmm...I could live here for a bit." I own a real estate investment company. This company is why I was able to quit my job and take a massive pay cut so I could figure out who the hell I am and other existential crap I cannot quite articulate after a night of working. My condo is a part of that...I paid cash for it, and the fact is that it will make a perfect rental property for me when I decide to move.
But for now, though, it's cute. And it has a yarn room...seriously!
So anyway, I was unpacking and putting things where they belong and creating spaces for things that did not have a home yet, and I became aware of two notions regarding my possessions. The first is that I feel my bedroom is private enough where it should be the home for items like my old diaries, private photographs and letters, and publications that may not be appropriate for everyone. And I am not talking about dirty magazines or anything like that...just some stuff that is only someone's business if I make it their business.
I was actually flipping through my diaries a bit...this is the second thing I discovered...and when I was reading entries from fourteen years ago, I had that pang of truth where you realize that the more things change, the more they stay the same. If I am to believe what I wrote when I was in my mid-twenties...and let's face it, I tend to think lying goes against the ways of the universe...then I am to accept the fact that I was not settled then, and I am not settled now. I talked about not feeling like I was home, not having any stability, and not knowing how I felt about certain people both for the here-and-now and for the long-term future.
I'm referring to family members, friendships, intimate relationships...all of it.
So I came to the conclusion that perhaps I should stop trying to seek out stability. What is so wrong with taking life as it comes, anyway? If I cross the threshold of "home," or meet "the one," or land THE job, or even get slapped in the face with a dose of karma telling me what I should be when I grow up, I may listen.
But for now, I LIKE me. I like not knowing what is next, and yet still being a psychotic planner for the ticks in my life that I can control.
I am going to try my hand at being a real estate agent. If it doesn't pan out, well, let me just get out a thick notebook to catalogue all of the various endeavors I have tried that did not work out...
I am going to get my non-profit off the ground this year. Someone recently started following me on Twitter and I took it as a sign that this is, in fact, the year to do it. I am thinking sometime around July I will be able to have the business plan ready, have the tools to know the next steps on how to proceed, and maybe even have a vision of my life after starting it.
My life is not a river. It is not fireworks. It is certainly not a well-beaten path.
My life is more like church: it has its constant qualities, but you never know what lesson you will learn from one week to the next.
I am going to try my hardest to be fine with it. Seriously.
In the meantime, here is a picture of me in a baby hat. Seriously.