Good Afternoon. Since re-entering the modern age last summer, with the purchase of my laptop, I've enjoyed reconnecting with friends both dear and peripheral, via Facebook and E-mail. It's great to finally have the world at my fingertips, and should be promoting more general productivity in other facets of my life- right? Wrong. So here I sit, not folding the laundry, not shoveling the walk for the umpteenth time this winter, (although I did toss a little calcium out the front door), trying to motivate myself in any new direction.
I remember purchasing my first -and previous, you can see how long it's been- computer, a Gateway, probably fifteen years ago. I bought it so I could start writing. Uh-huh. The life of a single woman in her twenties with a mortgage to pay on a dilapidated 250 year old house, the reality of work scheduling and upkeep on said house, hanging together with my tendency to stagnate, has led to no progress on the writing front.
Next month, I'll be forty. I'm looking forward to the party, ( there had better be one), to the milestone the age represents, to the proximity it gives me to eligibility for senior discounts. I am not lamenting my lost youth, because I've not lost it, yet.
I'm still single, and childless. Neither of which reflects the vision I had of my future self as I saw her 17 years ago. Yet, I am currently involved with a good man, who knows me, loves me, and makes me laugh. Further, I have been constantly and closely involved with the lives of three children, (1 neighbor and 2 family members), - now grown- who have afforded and continue to afford me the experience of all the joys and pratfalls of parenthood, and then some.
The homestead has come a long way, and remains simultaneously my biggest life joy and the bane of my existence. I'm proud of what I've accomplished here, and grateful for the help of my family and friends along the way. But if you didn't see it 17 years ago, you might find it hard to believe that its current state reflects progress.
My professional life has blossomed, although not in a way that I could have predicted when they handed me the diploma I still can't fully read (I never took Latin) and sent me out into the world ready to conquer it. At my last reunion, several of my classmates were able to introduce me to my professional peers- their nannies, who they'd brought along for the weekend. An odd spot, but only the nannies seemed confused- I guess my classmates saw the perfect fit I'd found. I know far too many people whose working lives bring them none of the joy or satisfaction that I enjoy, so I try not to spend too much time explaining my choice. It was obviously a good one.
I still tend to stagnate, between periods of frantic activity, in nearly all aspects of my life. However, I've always found that when I'm writing something, anything, it seems to stimulate me. Perhaps it's as my high school English teacher said; "you're going to need to write". So, I'll start here. My life thus far has provided me with a wealth of stories to tell. As the man in my life is constantly telling me, "You need to write a book, Tea." I'll change or combine a few personalities to protect the innocent, the not-so-innocent, and the downright guilty. But I'm best at self-deprecating humor, so my intimates need not worry, further than owning up to their association with me.
I enjoy blogs' expansion of moments in time, the way one small encounter can lead us off into flights of thoughts and memories, can inspire us to new heights, can bring us so low. I've always believed that we are changed every day, sometimes by what everyone would consider 'life-altering events', but more often than not by much smaller, sometimes seemingly insignificant experiences, which lead us somehow to tweak something of our selves. And, further, that the 'size' of the experience cannot predict, and does not determine its impact.
Enough of the biographical, philosophical, postulatory exposition. I hope you enjoy hearing from me, and please do comment. Conversation is much better than speaking in a vacuum. Besides, I live alone; I can talk to myself any time!
---Tea
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