The cake fork goes above

I'm going to let you in a little bit of my brain: I, like most of others who write, I suppose, write to figure things out. It is a way to process what I'm working through or thinking through. Unfortunately, words are often lacking and simply can't quite nail what it is that I'm feeling. And, let's just be honest here, blogging is a way to write and others can see it. We write publicly. I expect others are reading this, although, admittedly, I am always surprised when someone tells me that they are, in fact, reading this or still reading this (thank you).

I'm not always prone to sentimentality (despite what some of these blog posts suggest). I don't really collect tchotchkes, but I do appreciate small aesthetic objects and things that make me laugh. We do collect rocks and books, though. I'm not particularly fond of hugging, but I will hug; I grew up in an affectionate family, Scott gives hugs freely, and a number of our friends are huggers. I am, as I explained to Joey years ago, a converted hugger, or a hugger by default.  I don't like the smell of other people on me, whether it be perfume, cologne, or body odor; it is this scent-based reaction more than the physicality of touch.  I don't like inhaling people I don't know. The just-met-you hug is misery (stop doing this, people). There are also certain colognes that are still being worn (I'm looking at you anything CK brand, and I'm not smiling) that assault my physical senses and my memories (it is the smell of bad, angsty dates that usually occurred in some awful chain restaurant and too close cars). And getting back to the point I was making at the beginning of this paragraph, I do realize, however, as you have noticed if you have read any of this blog, that I have perhaps an unhealthy need for introspection that may lead to misdirected and misguided nostalgia, which isn't a lot of our nostalgia misdirected and misguided?

I was sitting this evening (just joking--this post has been sitting in my drafts and worked over for weeks now), working on a project and reading, and I found myself mulling over strange paths in life--specifically the "what led me to this point," Sliding Doors, fork in the road path that I took to get here.  Nobody's road is straight; they are winding, twisted, motion-sickness inducing roads. Sometimes people get to the crossroads and sell their souls to the devil, and I completely understand this compulsion or need now. I sometimes wish there had been signposts for these moments in my life: "Road closed: Terrible weather ahead" like this sign (a favorite and too appropriate at times):

 

What are those tire marks doing?!

 I can think of a few times (specifically two, possibly three) when I actually stood at the crossroads and realized that one way would lead to a certain way and the other a different way. And in the silly way I had (may/probably still have) of facing down the scary things in life, I ran away, and took the path that confounded those around me. "But I thought this was what you wanted/worked so hard for," they would say. And I would wail in reply, "Me toooo!" all the while stubbornly plowing down that path I never intended to take. I've turned out okay even though I've blundered around directionless at times. I have worked hard to get where I am without a map or good sense of navigation and direction. I still look back and wonder and then look forward and wonder, too.

Anyway, all of this to say that there are strange things afoot, and I'm a bit frightened and hoping I'm making the right moves.  2014, I have decided, is the year I do things and meet some pretty hefty goals. Last March was a mess, I was a mess, and I let things just tumble into a panicky, vast darkness within me, but last March also shifted a direction in my life, if a bit smaller than those crossroads moments. I can't tell that it saved me from more student debt, from years of tears and a happy misery, and set me on a new path, but I'd like to think that some good came out of it. Last spring I was barely keeping my head above water, but 2014? This year I'm swimming the effing ocean, punching sharks as they come my way*.


*Just kidding. No animals have been or will be harmed in the making of this new year.