CSI: Genie

Sometimes I get too caught up in my inner space, intent on solving it like a crime scene. I become an investigator, trying to piece together the remnants and fragments of past hurts, trying to find clues that have lead me here. I become a medical examiner, deconstructing the body I carry around, disconnected to who I was and who I am. I become a prosecutor, condemning myself for all my faults and many mistakes. I become a forensic specialist, taking the jack hammer to the hard shell that encases my heart to find what hurt it so.

There is much to investigate, but I'm not a crime scene. I'm a person. Speckled, imperfect and alive. I don't have all the answers, but I am responsible for the life I am leading right now. I can let it slip by while I swim in a murky pool of whys and wherefore. Or. I can get on it.

So that is what I choose to do. Get on with my life. I can't promise myself that every day will be as perfect as today with the sun streaming in through the windows, the smell of Murphy's oil rising from my freshly washed floor, and the smell of mowed grass wafting in from outside; but I can promise myself that today is a new day. A fresh start. A slate of possibilities.

Over the next few weeks I will be chronicling the changes I will be making, and the steps I will be taking in pursuit of a more authentic life. A more productive one. I need to tackle my procrastination and see at least one vision to its fruition. So many started projects have been left by the wayside while I moan about the way things suck in my life. Moaning doesn't get anything accomplished. Action does.

I have been considering deleting all my posts on this blog and starting fresh here too, but that would be as inauthentic as buying a rug to cover the scratched floor. There's no reason to delete anything. This blog chronicles my ups and downs, my joys and losses and it is part of me. Its the forensic evidence of who I am. Speckled, imperfect and real.

Manifesto of Change

Here's the thing. I can write about my problems until my fingers fall off; it's therapeutic. However, I don't want to get stuck chasing my own tail of issues. To the outsider, I might be bitching too much, or focusing on my losses too much, or stuck in a holding pattern of regret.

Regret is a waste of time.

Things change even in infinitesimal amounts. This weekend my almost 20 year old indoor cat decided he had enough, taking off to explore the world as his last hoorah.  He's been out before, but never for four days; and I am left to struggle between sadness and hope. Sadness because I didn't get the chance to say goodbye, and hope because I know the courage his little soul has in taking on the world at his age. He has become my new hero who has delivered a powerful message to me. It's time for me to do the same.

I have decided to sell my house.

It's time to acknowledge that the reasons for buying a house have been miscalculated. I felt that in a house I would feel more of a sense of community, but I have not done so in either houses I have owned. Neighbours in reality, I have discovered, bear no resemblance to neighbours in the media. Sure, there are the waves and quick hellos as I walk to my car or water my garden or shovel the insane amounts of snow that fall, but there have been no block parties, or casserole dishes or friendly cups of tea. In a house, as in an apartment, I have been left pretty much to my own devices.

In a big city, everyone tends to their own, and good luck to you if you don't have a family or a group of friends that you've grown up with. You have to struggle to make and keep connections, otherwise you're a floating buoy in a sea of nuclear families and couplings. I thought purchasing a house would have given me a sense of belonging, instead, it's given me bills, and chores and headaches.

So it's time to call it a failed experiment and go back to compartmentalized living. I need an open concept unit with windows, in an area that's mixed residential and commercial. I want to be able to walk around, window shop, go for a coffee, get to know my neighbourhood. I need to be in a environment that's not solely occupied by families, couples and retirees. I'm looking for the right lifestyle, not just a place to live. I'll leave the gardening, snow shoveling and remodeling to those who love it.

It's time.

It's time to focus on the things I love like painting, jewelry-making, writing, dancing and photography.  It's time to look forward not backwards. It's time to heal from past wrongs, mistakes and abuses. It's time for my manifesto of change. Rather than go home to read or watch TV or putter around, I am putting together an interesting cocktail of classes for me to take during week nights. It's time to learn more about and participate in the things I have always wanted to do. It's time to act rather than wish things would change in my life. Now that I understand why I'm so screwed up, it's time to get over it, and just live the best life I can in a new environment with renewed interest.

It's time to follow in my beloved cat's footsteps. Meow.

~~~~~~~~~~

As I browsed through my favorite bloggers, I found that, yet again, Jamie Ridler has worked her magic. 

In her Wishcasting Wednesdays Jamie asks, "What do you wish to transform?"

 And there it is, perfectly aligned with my post. 

I wish to transform my life. 

Please join the Wishcasters as we weave some dreams into reality.

Cave Girl

This morning I woke up looking like a Kiss extra. I really should remember to wash my eye make-up off before bed, but sometimes shit happens. Besides, it was good for a morning laugh. It's funny brushing Tommy Thayer's teeth in the mirror.

Now back as myself, gulping morning coffee and pondering on my plans, I am stuck with how many times I have had to reinvent myself. When I went to Greece at age 16, my life had changed drastically. I left the cloistered environment of my restricted adolescence to enter a world filled with fascinating people from all over the world, rife with ideas and enthusiasm, filled with the pit falls of social interactions.

You would think that I would have fallen flat on my face, given the sorry state of my social prowess, and my zero understanding of the male species, other than men who can take the form of a benevolent dictators or preying abusers. Quite the reverse is true. I thrived. For the first time, I had the freedom to be, even though I did not have the slightest clue as to who I was. The truth is I was 16 frozen at 10. Stuck somewhere between the age I was a relatively normal girl to when the darkness swallowed me.

They call it sunny Greece for a reason. I went from a very proper, slightly robotic life to one bursting with the sticky, sweet juice of living. There was noise everywhere. Everyone talked at the same time, with the the same gusto that they laughed, ate, argued and loved. I felt like the cave girl discovered under layers of ice, perfectly preserved and frozen in time. I thawed a little bit more each day, as I became conscious of the world around me once again. I also became painfully aware of myself and the fact that somehow I was very different from everyone else.

Yet, I was deliriously happy and empowered for the first time in 6 years. This set a pattern for me, a pattern I only just recently realized: I am most happy around creative, thinking individuals. I love the chaos of discovery much more than the stability of knowing. I dive into new ideas as if my soul is parched for them. I swim in pools of color and textures. I don't like to lounge in the sun of complacency. I need movement.

Over the years, I have often felt the need to change things up. to experience a different perspective. If I stay stagnant too long, I start to wither. And this is precisely why I have decided it's time to make another step in my life. I need to be around creative people in environments that breed discussion and ideas not conformity and routine. In other words, it's time to stop living a life I think I should be living while yearning for a life I love, and start living the life I love.