At best I’m a scattered mess.
I’m reasonably comfortable admitting this now.
I’m not even sure what this post is really about, but woke up this morning feeling that it was time to get back to writing…any writing…even if it is just a rambling blog post. I pulled out a stack of old journals, sifted through snippets of poems, giggled, and traced through a rather mixed up geography of thoughts.
13 moves in 6 years. 21 moves in total. Do I have just a terrible case of wanderlust? Not really. The moving and constant uprooting does little to satisfy my urge to explore and rather counter-productively destroys all funds and time for real adventure. It is to the point now where I can barely tell the difference between an old familiar place and a new one.
2009. The year I turned 30. The months leading up to my 30th birthday I was a madhouse of writing. (and perhaps even an actual madwoman…but why dwell!). Journals that I had failed to fill for years suddenly ran out of room. I house sat a big old place on a hill with a 180 acre view and something about that space, two summers of being a caretaker at a cabin (and a decision to not simply jump at the first urge to flee) allowed me the space to write. But my inability to secure long term employment and housing meant everything (including emotions) remained in boxes. Labelled, but contents still vague and mysterious.
I feel I am starting to unpack now. Figuratively. Literally, I am still living in a rental which smells of stale cigarette smoke from the previous tenant and is punctuated daily with arguments and bad language from the other side of our paper thin walls. But figuratively i am starting to pull out the necessary tools for some much delayed goal setting. (and yes, top of that list is still ‘buy a house’ and ‘consider vacations instead of moving’).
Here is what appeared in my ‘year of turning 30’ journal titled: 30
a decade of knitting
gnawing at memories
picking nails
fidgeting from one foot to the other
passing time at being suspicious
or questioning
anything that doesn’t bite back
and even some things that do.