So on January 6, 2012 I blogged that in my gut I thought 2012 was going to be a good year. That’s funny in retrospect. 2012 was a pivotal year. A major turning point year. It was a year that started off going one way work-wise, and then it took a sharp turn. It was difficult, empowering, a little torturous, and a lot stressful. And I’m pretty sure I cried a lot. In fact I remember sitting at the McDonald’s playland with Shane while Beau played, feeling panicky that I had to decide the rest of my life and career right then and there. To say I took it one day at a time is an understatement. I’m pretty sure it was more like one hour at a time. I was doing my best to balance loyalty, pragmatism, inner peace, and my own sanity. I felt like Atlas and I was shrugging. A lot. But I was determined to hold fast and persevere. Life had thrown me a curve ball, and while it may not have been major to many, it was all-consuming to me. I was strong. I wasn’t going to fail. Nothing doing down on my watch. And here I am 2 1/2 years later. I think I’ve made it. My days can still be stressful (okay, who am I kidding, a lot stressful, but I’m starting to think I might just thrive on the stress…) I’m not freaking out at a McDonald’s playland wondering what I’m going to do for the rest of my life. And I’m not shrugging so much. Life is good.
Once upon a time I started this blog to document this thing called life. And it kind of morphed into my ramblings. And then I stopped. (See above ^^) and I started over somewhere else. And even though that was fine enough, it wasn’t home. Something was missing. So I’m back.
Bolero. Always Bolero. Listening to it late at night, earbuds in, the only one awake, I can believe anything is possible. It’s a little bit of classical therapy.
Gifts can be unexpected and come in all forms. Sometimes cloaked in sadness. Sometimes just around the corner, behind a hidden door. You never know what is coming your way.
On my Saturday morning walks I come up to the canal. Walking along it in the heat (and recent humidity) I’m brought back to long weekends at my Grandpa’s lake house The fishy smell in the air and I’m a teenager at Hidden Valley Lake, apprehensive (to say the least) about setting foot in the lake with all the reeds and fish. Funny how just a smell can transport you back 20 years.
I feel something brewing. Something changing. Some aha moment. Or maybe it’s just that late at night feeling when you’re sleepy but your mind can’t slow down lest it miss something.
How long until Christmas? Mostly I just want to smell some pine and listen to Christmas Carols. (Funny, Beau chose his weekday alarm to be Barenaked For the Holidays, so it’s a little bit of Christmas in our house every day.)
“We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.” — D.H. Lawrence. Apparently, not long ago, I wrote this on a piece of paper and left it on my night table. I don’t recall writing it, but I do like it.
Tomorrow I’m adventuring to IKEA with my friend Tamye. We’ll see if I leave with a full cart or not. So far nothing is on my list, which means it could go either way…
Happy (almost) weekend my friends!