I have been meaning to write a blog for the past 10 years. A kickass, variegated, fascinating blog with
exciting and quirky links to interesting, attractive stuff
photos and tutorials of the clothing and furniture and things I make with my hands
deep and meaningful discussions of poignant life epiphanies
the changing and growing moments that progess my personal life
but
somehow this didn't happen.
The blog didn't happen because I was concerned that I was just going to add to the redundant hordes of blogs flooding the internet, without adding any real value or humour. The links and things didn't happen because, although I was encountering heaps of awesome, wonderful things online, it was mainly through other pre-existing and inspiringly good blogs. Which ironically de-motivated my drive to create one, since I was just going to end up repeating stuff. The DIY stuff didn't happen, well it did happen because I love having a project and making things with my hands, and slowly accumulated enormous piles of tools, props, stash and swag with which to actively do it (myself). All to varying degrees of success.
I went from hideously unsuccessful baker to conquering ordinary baked goods and becoming the go-to person for impromptu and adequate cake. I attempted planting a small herb garden to introduce fresh herbs into my slowly growing recipe assortment. Turns out I possess the rare and amazing Black Thumb. They all withered in sheer delight under my caring deadly hands. I sew and knit at least once a year, a feverish two to three week bender with my head bent and fingers numb, painstaking calculations and fittings so as to ensure a perfectly constructed piece of happiness for me to revel in. I made it! For meeeeeeeeeeee! I haven't yet made one thing that I've worn more than once, and that's because either they do not fit as they should, having three armholes and a large area in the back for a hump that I don't yet have, or they come apart during the wearing and I am threatened with the propect of making it home in only mismatched granny underwear and stray threads. That doesn't stop me from doing it because I really love it despite how thoroughly aggravating the whole process is. Because if I work hard enough, I will eventually get that back hump and then it will all magically work out. And I'm not even going to talk about my solid lifelong resolution to fluently speak Mandarin (I can't), that piano gathering a knitted coat of dust, or the several guitars littering my house that I can't actually play a recognisable song on yet.
I think the reason that these things were all false starts (or picked up again only to discover that I was out of practice, then would get back into practice and then get complacent) was because my life was pretty static as well. Each thing that didn't progress was another brick in a wall that was slowly getting above my eye level. Things were happening, all the time, every day, by miniscule increments, in the slowest amount of time possible.
In high school, I showed intelligence and promise in that vague, smart-kid-who-is-bored-and-getting-distracted-by-a-burgeoning-social-life way. In uni, I was all "I'm an adult and I can have it all! I know exactly what I want to be and I'm going to have my cake and eat it or throw it or do whatever the hell I want with it! I will bring this town TO ITS KNEES." And then I found out that my course and I were not compatible, because I was far too busy bringing small areas of Perth, if not to their respective knees, then at least a slight stoop, to study. So I changed courses, and three years later earned myself some very expensive paper. I had also begun a long (long, long) term relationship, which is everything I expect and want in a real relationship, and is bloody hard work at times, but we are both moving at the same snail's pace in many areas. I've let myself get lazy, just because my partner doesn't nag me about it. That isn't the right way to do it, but if I'm one thing, I am a habit-forming fiend. So by the time I graduated, it felt like it had taken way too long, too many turns and speed bumps and tears and blood and years of my life. I was world-weary at 23. I was world-weary, naive and full of myself. Because then came work.
Oh, work. There are no words for the emotions that work arouses in me. Actually, I quite enjoy work. I find my industry interesting (I'm a geek), challenging (not the sort of geek that built computers when they were in primary school), and rewarding. (because showing off the knowledge I do have to my friends is a terrible habit I can't kick) The problem I have is job hunting. I have been contracting for most of my work life, or had setbacks like the Global Financial Crisis rendering me redundant not once, but twice by the same company, who then folded. Presumably because they couldn't retain employees. I mean, it happened to a lot of people, and I bear no ill-will but I think I learnt some lessons over my years of working. Unfortunately, after three years of working in the industry, I don't have that solid chunk of experience required by every potential employer, and so have issues with job hunting. I approach the whole thing with trepidation and anxiousness to say the least. I am currently job hunting after an extended travel break, and I'm having to apply a 12-step program to the whole thing. I come back to Denial every morning and have to work up the cheer to fight the mild depression that threatens to hole me up into a sweaty mess of blankets, hair and tea.
So at the moment, I have free time, a little more humility and a full understanding of how my life, while not hopeless or even consistently shit, is not the blinding blaze of glory I expected of myself when I was vainer and prouder. To put is baldly, I am mildly disappointed with myself. So ignoring my aversion to New Year's resolutions (that was pretty much founded by my inflated ego, who is now leaking air, holding its wound closed and crying quietly in the corner) I have decided to make a public record of the things I need to achieve my goals.
This blog is going to be all the things I wanted it to be.
I'm going to get a kickass job and concurrently, become kickass at it, by applying myself to applying to jobs, and then by having a schedule of personal learning that will end in my being someone that a knowledgable person can speak to about industry topics and still be interested.
I'm going to cook something every day, picking healthy meals as I am wont to do, and tremendously renal failure inducing treats to supplement. As I am also wont.
I shall have a new project each fortnight, and finish it within the fortnight. I think the deadline will be the thing that brings me success rather than the plastic bags stuffed with half-finished scraps of sad impotent projects that usually appear.
I'll sleep properly, eat properly and become truly fit, tracking satisfactory improvements as I go through the year, and by the end will have zero body issues and still be able to eat like a monster when the mood hits.
I will put aside an hour each week, to learn something. Anything useful, I can read a science text, or learn some more Mandarin, learn how to play The Final Countdown on the piano or read up on ancient history.
In general I'll be spending less time seeing and more time doing, and I think I'm really going to enjoy the feeling of those bricks coming down one by one.
