Jill makes light of how many times she and John have moved...I make light of the number of relationships I've been in and the belongings I still have to retrieve from the people in those past relationships (pretty sure I can still rock those boots from 2008 once I get them back...). I'll be 40 exactly three months from today and I've never been married (hasn't been a blip on the proverbial radar) and I don't have any kids. I have multiple tattoos and piercings, I drive a dented 1999 Buick and I don't have a 9:00-5:00-I work two part time jobs I am overeducated for. I have a gypsy soul.
So...in that second paragraph, there is enough there for any reader to surmise why I am the resident wacko. Of course, there is more, and that may or may not be shared in good time. I probably drink too much and think too much...both double edged swords, in and of themselves (as they say, no good story ever started with someone eating a salad). I'm the daughter neither of my parents know what to do with, regarding life philosophy and life choices. I've been fortunate over the years to have honed a circle of friends who love me because of and despite all of that.
It has probably been in the past five years that I began the journey to embracing the self-designated title of wacko (I remember when my nephew Trevor was really young I stated that we all knew I was going to be the "crazy aunt"). I think it is one of the most beautiful and authentic things about me. In my opinion, those things about me that are outside the normal bell curve that is Midwestern US society give other people the confidence to be a little wacky themselves or at least talk to me about the things they might be self conscious about, feel vulnerable about and find some kind of comradery and understanding without judgment. I can't count the number of times someone has been talking to me and said to me...I don't know why I'm telling you this, I really don't just tell people this, I haven't talked about this in years...it just feels comfortable to talk to you.
I also love my life. I just got back from a vacation last week and I worked twelve hours at both of my jobs the next two days after that, starting at 5:45 a.m. The fact that I was not stressed or cranky but excited and happy to go to both jobs was a startling and joyful realization for me and a testament to how right for me the sometimes difficult career choices I've made over the years have been. I felt so fortunate to be a person that felt that way about going back to work the day after getting back from an awesome getaway.
Will I be upgrading from my '99 Buick or retiring anytime soon based on the amount I make piecing things together from two part time jobs (neither with benefits of any kind)? Not a chance...and that's okay with me because I'd rather drive an old car that has a random silver strip hanging off the side (still not sure how that happened or what to do about it so I'm choosing to ignore it for now) and love coming back to my life than deal with the reverse situation...a shiny new car and the outward trappings of "success" in this society and the stress of a job and life I don't want to come back to.
I started writing this blog post in a way that is uncustomary for me...I normally have an overall point or intention I want to make and lead up to it (I had two awesome contenders that will be seen at a later date). This time, I just started writing about something that felt important to get out there...and now that I'm asking myself why I started writing about this, I think it is partly as a "confessional" or a way for readers to get to know a little about my life. I think more of what I write in the future will make sense given the context this blog post provides. I also think it was for me...a public way to acknowledge and affirm my wacko life that I love.
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