I haven't been blogging very long.
In fact, I think I will have just celebrated my 1st bloggy birthday when I attend DPCON12, meaning it is fate and I must go or the world will end.
But when I started I had so much to say. So many ideas, thoughts, laughs at life.
They seem to have disappeared.
Part of the problem was that a couple of months into my cyberspace adventure Dinoputer died and I waited TEN WHOLE WEEKS for a new netbook to arrive.
I fell out of my bloggy groove and can't find it again. Instead I feel like I'm sailing across the wake of the Titanic.
So what's going on? Am I not cut out for this? Why am I no good at stuff?
I considered these questions very carefully and then my ego said "Hello? How can you NOT be awesome? You are asking the wrong questions my dear."
So I asked a better one - why can't I find my flow anymore?
Because I'm marking time.
Waiting for that moving day to arrive.
Waiting for my escape from this crazy hicktown.
Waiting until the day I no longer have to say "I live here."
Waiting for the beginning of the road to somewhere, instead of banging my head against the brick wall of this stupid community.
A community that I was born into, but I no longer love.
My feelings have been showing here. Oh so clearly, if only I had taken the time to notice.
Every second post is a big freaky emo rant.
My schedule has gone out the window, and even though I'm one for a bit of creative licence and randomness.... there has to be some kind of structure or everything just falls down.
On the days when WonderMan is home I haven't been posting at all.
I don't even KNOW why this has an effect. It never has before.
If you looked around my home you would think that I just don't care, or I'm too exhausted to care. Most days it's a mixture of both.
I don't want to be cleaning it. I want to be packing it. In boxes. On a truck that is going somewhere else.
If someone had pulled a truck up to my front door today I would have hurled everything in and driven away in an hour flat.
I can't stand life here anymore.
I. Want. Out.
And I know we are getting out.
But the waiting is killing me.
I'm counting weeks and days until I move.
I'm counting hours until WonderMan leaves to start work up north. And not because I want him to go, but because it will all finally seem real.
I will allow myself the chance to hope.
I mentioned my lack of direction to WonderMan tonight.
And he told me to write about it. To give myself some way of tracking our progress towards that Brand New Day.
A before and after, as he put it.
WELL D'UH! Why didn't I think of that?
Because sometimes you can't see the forest for the trees.
Because I am so kicked down by everything around me that sometimes I forget to look up.
Because he may be young, but by gods he's wise.
I will be checking in to let you know how I'm going - with the organising, the waiting, the dramas of solo parenting my way through the next few weeks and months.
Hopefully with a bit more direction, and a few more laughs.
Because one thing I've always been able to do is laugh, even if it means people do give me strange looks.
The countdown is on.
