Only The Curious

I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. My 30th birthday is later this week and it’s been giving me pause. It’s a good time to stop and think about things, kind of like New Year’s eve. Except instead of looking at the next year I’m looking at the next decade. And the past one.

It always seems like life passes so quickly. But then I think back to 10 years ago, and everything that has happened in that period of time, and it calms me down. I have a lot of time. All the time in the world.

…which is not to say I’m going to stop trying to live every day like it was my last. I heard someone use that phrase on the radio the other day, they were saying that 9/11 is a good reminder to live every day as though it’s your last, because you never know when it will be. Which caused me to stop and ponder, what the hell does that mean, anyway?

Really, if it was my last day and I knew it, I’d probably fly somewhere I could stick my toes in the ocean, go skydiving, eat all of my favorite foods, and round up all of my favorite people in one place. But I can’t do that every day. And most of us will never know when our last day will be. I have come to the conclusion that “living every day as if it were your last” really means not to do anything you’d regret, or wish you could go back and re-do, or change. It means to be nice to people, don’t go to bed angry, tell the people you love that you love them.

But it also means not to concede the things you want. Make the choices that are what you really want out of life, every day. Live with integrity.

As I’m writing this, I’m thinking that these things sound a lot like The Four Agreements: Don’t make assumptions. Don’t take things personally. Be impeccable with your word. Always do your best.

Really, that last one sums it all up. If you’re always doing your best, then you’re already doing the other things.

So I will live every day like it is my last by doing my best.

How will you live every day as though it were your last?

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I took November off from blogging. This wasn’t really intentional; I never sat down and said “I’m not blogging for a month.” In fact, I’ve felt really guilty about it. But the hiatus was part of me continuing to get my shit together. Ever since April, when I didn’t get what I thought was my dream job and kind of fell apart, I’ve been going through a slow process figuring out what I do want out of life, and of getting myself back to standing on solid ground. In November, part of this was getting back to budgeting and goal setting, and as a result of doing both, I made a rule that I always had to do all of my billable work first. Before blogging, before anything distracting, I had to get my billable work done.

It’s both a good and a bad thing that has meant no blogging. Good that I have that much work. Bad because I need my personal writing outlet too. I’ll find a balance.

But back to that good news. I haven’t had a “real” job since last March. I’ve had a couple of part-time, contract gigs, but no regular, steady-income, 9-5 job. I’ve been writing, and doing some social media consulting, and trying to “make it” working on my own terms. As of this past month, I’ve finally reached a point where I can say that my freelance work is my job, and my jobs are my side gigs. I’m just $300 short of what I used to make on salary (okay, that’s admittedly not all that much, but still,) and am optimistic about my business continuing to grow.

Hold the champagne, though. I know full well the folly of thinking that one good month means smooth sailing from here on out. I know that I’ll need to continue to push myself and constantly be reaching out to new potential clients. And while I managed to pay all of my bills without pulling out the credit card this month, there’s still a lot of room for growth. For example, if I’d like to have the money for something wild and crazy. Like a savings account.

But, I am really excited that my patience and not really even scraping by the last six months looks like it’s finally paying off. I couldn’t have possibly done it without the support of a couple of very important people, and since I never did a Thanksgiving gratitude post, I’d like to thank them here:

THANK YOU…

…Alisha. For standing by me, letting me vent, and helping me to laugh through the tough times. For getting angry on my behalf when I didn’t have the energy to care or fight for myself anymore. For going out to five points to rescue my stolen iPhone. For upholding our “no-judgment” policy. For making me feel normal again during those worst times.

…Heather. For letting me “live” with you, even though I was almost never there and it kind of got us evicted. For never judging me, and for being so chill and understanding, and for trusting that I’ll pay you back when I can and not letting rent get in the way of friendship. Also for inspiring me to get stronger.

…John. For giving me so many opportunities to sing and perform and explore new music, and for being so encouraging about it. It made me feel like I was accomplishing something even when work didn’t seem to be going anywhere. But more than that, thanks for always welcoming me with a smile and a hug, for asking how I’m doing and letting me talk for half an hour after rehearsal was done because I just needed someone to spill to.

…Zac. Because I know you’d be there for me no matter what. Even though we haven’t gotten to hang out as much as we’d like, knowing that you’re there makes me feel like I have a safety net. And thank you for encouraging me with the music, too.

…Karl. Thank you for believing in me and being there for me from day one. For helping me move at the last second, for not giving up on the possibility of us, even when I didn’t see it. For making me meet you for coffee just to make sure I got dressed and left the house that weekend. For making sure I never went without dinner, and convincing me that using a slow-cooker would not, in fact, turn me into a mediocre housewife. For all of the ways you’ve supported me – financially, emotionally, and even physically. For driving all the way to and from Wisconsin on your own, and not begrudging it later. For giving me a home. Most of all, for loving me, and letting me know that you would still love me even through those tough times.

______

Look for posts daily for the rest of December, and sometimes two. I’m participating in #reverb10, a blogging inspiration project devoted to reflection on the past year and intention for the coming one.

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It’s been over a month since I posted. Again. But I’m back, and planning to continue to grow this little ol’ blog into something beautiful. I could give you lots of excuses, about how I was traveling in Wisconsin for two weeks, and about all the crazy weekend shenanigans that have been going on. Or about how I kind of got evicted. But I still could’ve found a few minutes to sit down and hack something out.

Sometimes time off is okay, to recharge. But this case was really just an act of grand procrastination. And the problem with procrastination is that the longer you let it go, like a weed, it grows. It gets bigger and more daunting. It roots deeper in your mind. You start “shoulding” on yourself. And you lose all desire and motivation to do whatever it is you’ve procrastinated on. Until it gets so big that even the thought of trying to start is overwhelming.

Funny thing is, once you start, usually you realize it wasn’t so bad. It was just your mind making things out to be bigger or worse than they are.

Okay, so yay. I’ve started writing. On to the moving.

If you’ve been reading for awhile, you know that in the last year I picked up and moved myself from Wisconsin to Colorado, got an apartment and a job in Denver, and 6 months later left both to go on the road with Trek Travel for a month. Then I got back, traveled around a bunch, and suddenly ran out of money, got really depressed, and found myself staying with the friend whose basement my stuff was being stored in. Around the same time I met Karl, and for most of the summer have had my stuff divided between the house he bought and the one I shared with Heather. For the last two months I’ve been procrastinating on making a decision: whether to officially move in with Karl or maintain my place at Heather’s for the nights that I need a break, or in case things don’t work out. Because, you know. Things happen.

The day before my birthday, that decision was made for me. I had stayed at Heather’s for the first time since July one night, thinking how nice it was to do my own thing for an evening, and that I should start trying to be there at least two nights a week. Keep some independence. Get more writing done without distraction. In the morning, I got up, got ready, and headed to a coffee shop to write my birthday blog post. As I headed to the car, the owners of Heather’s house, who live out of state, approached me in the driveway and started shouting, asking how much I was paying for rent, (nothing) how long I’d been there (a grand total of about 12 days since May) and why my mail was coming to their house (because I didn’t want to get Karl’s hopes up about me moving in by changing my official address to his, even though it meant Heather bringing my mail to happy hours and such every few weeks.)

It was kind of dramatic. And ridiculous. And I hadn’t had any coffee yet.

Heather’s agreement with them was a verbal one. There was nothing in writing that said she could or could not have me stay there and leave some stuff there. But they felt they’d been massively lied to and deceived, and therefore that the sting operation was necessary. Heather just didn’t think they’d really care. She was helping out a friend.(Thank you Heather!!!)

They said I could sign a lease and pay $500 rent monthly and $3k in back rent, or I could be out by 6 pm the following day. I was out by 4 pm the same day.

It really kind of sucked.

I spent the rest of the weekend and week being kind of stressed out and bummed out about the whole situation. I liked living with Heather. I felt bad that they were really mean to her. I felt bad that the situation even had to come up. But most of all, I hated that I was moving in with my boyfriend not because we were both really excited and happy about our relationship and decided to take this step together, but because I had to.

That being said, Karl is pretty happy about it. He’s been wanting me to move in for awhile. And I am grateful that I had a place to go. A comfortable, safe place that I like. Most of my stuff was here anyway, so the actual move was one hour and two cars. Since I’d been staying here most of the time anyway, it’s not like it’s a huge change or adjustment. On the whole, it’s a good thing.

I just wish it could’ve happened on better terms.

Over the past week we painted the bathroom, hung some artwork on the walls, and I put out a few of my decorative things. Seeing familiar stuff in the house and putting some work into it has shifted the energy for me, I guess you could say. I’ve let go of the anger and feeling bad about how things happened. I’m feeling good about things, and in all honesty am pretty excited to have a home, a place that isn’t a temporary fix but one I can stay in for awhile. Maybe I’ll even go get my CO driver’s license now that I have a permanent address.

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