I’ve done it. I’ve gone and let my blog molder and grow all viney and cobwebby. Eleven months. I swore I wasn’t going to let this happen. I wasn’t going to be that person. That kind of wannabe blogger that posts every millennia or so. Well, damn it, I’ve been busy.
Ok fine; so not your everyday kind of busy, like soccer mom busy. Or over-extended executive who sits on three boards and a gaggle of community service committees busy. Or even successful-mid-lifer-who’s-working-their-dream job-made-it-to-the-top-of-their-pay-grade-and-is-up-for-the-big-promotion busy.
It’s been more like in my head kind of busy. Some might call it just sitting and staring busy. And that may be true. Okay it’s true. And maybe sometimes there’s a little rocking…and humming…but I’m a year (and a half) past the shores of fifty and I have a lot of stuff to figure out, so stop judging me!
So I’ve been busy…thinking.
“But what the heck’ve you been DOING?” you may ask (or not, because, really, who the hell cares as long as it hasn’t involved hacking or YOUR bank account).
You see, back in aught-eleven when I started this blog thing I said I was setting out on a journey to find myself. How middle-aged cliché of me. I’ve also taken up yoga and green smoothies and photography and red wine…and blogging. Oh God. I’ve become a cliché.
(From beneath his hood the old saggy man says, “Take your pen. Write that memoir with all of your hormones and your journey towards the dark side will be complete!”)
And so oh yeah, I wrote a book.
And I guess now, it is complete. Not my journey. The memoir.
“What the heck’s this tome about?” you may ask (or not, because, really you’re a smart cookie and have already divined: Hm. Memoir. Probably about her).
And so it is.
You see; about ten years ago, I woke up. From a near-quarter-century deep dive into the Charismatic Christian church.
It’s a simple story arc, really. Young starry-eyed Hollywood-bound heathen finds Jesus; spends the next twenty-two years as a bona fide Bible-totin’, tongues-speakin’, Gospel-preachin’, rafter-swingin’ Born Again; then becomes a heathen again. There may be a little more to it than that; a lot of stories pile up in two and a half decades. Funny stories. And weird. And a little sad.
I started working on the beginnings of it about four years ago, but had to tuck her back away for a while. Waking up kinda threw me for a little loopy loop. (No I do not mean loop de. Or loop the. Or even loopty.) Loopy. Yep. It left me with lotsa stuff bumping about in the ol’ noggin. It took a few years for me to figure out just how deeply buried I had been. After the bends subsided. And the grieving. And the regret. It takes time to sort this kind of thing out.
But I’m fine now, really. There’s no call for an intervention here. I’m just sayin’ it’s been a ride.
Anyway, about three years ago the time finally came when I could breath air again, so I took up my pen and wrote the book.
Now begins the real journey… Here’s some of what’s to come:
- Get the sucker published
- Write the next thing(s)
- Move to New Orleans (needle scratching across vinyl…wh…woa…wuh?!)
Ok, wait. That last one’s done. Moved to New Orleans. I’ll fill you in on that next time.
Meantime, this little bloggy thing here will be the place where I shall keep you in the loopy about the above three items.
Hang on. Ya know something, I just gotta say…
Starting this blog and writing my story taught me some stuff. (Steps up onto soapbox. Changes mind. Hands soapbox back to husband.)
So that’s what I’ve been up to. Wrote the memoir. Taking back my blog. Moved to New Orleans.
Yes, Mike came too.
Stay tuned, more to come.
Some years later…
Unexpected Pleasure
