Skip to main content

A Gypsy Life

Forgive me.

I'm going to do some thinking here. Some sorting. Some processing through the process of writing this blog.

The last week and a half has been a whirlwind for me. Thoughts and emotions have swirled in my head. I'm sitting here still letting them wander around my conscience and hoping they will eventually find a place to rest.

A few days ago I had a conversation with my dear Lawrence who told me that he thinks I'd finally find happiness if I embrace the gypsy in me and live my life with the reckless abandon I seem to crave. This cardboard box of traditional living is certainly worn, and the duct tape I've been using to hold it together is separating along the seams.

But what next?

I have some serious questions to answer in the upcoming weeks. Deep down, I already know the answers, and I have no doubt that the people around me will question my sanity as I make them.

And you know what?

None of it really matters at the end of the day. I fully intend to find myself one day sitting on my front porch--long after my body is sagging and wrinkled--with a smile on my face. When I'm left with the memories I've made from a life I've created and re-invented over and over, I'll know that I truly lived.

This is life not by the rule book. I'm tossing it out. I'm scared out of my mind by the thought of this because so much of my life has been dictated by it.

But I think it's the only way for me.

Comments

Christy said…
From one gypsy to another - as long as the opportunity is there or you can make it be there - move, go with it, dance to your own song. I think the biggest regrets are rooted in the things we didn't do.
5:17 PM
frabjouspoet said…
I really want to talk to you about what's going on. I've had to do some shifting in my head about the current situation, and it's one of those things that not everyone gets. I know you do.
5:39 PM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Tough As Nails

I found "The Chub" last night. This is a small, thick spiral notebook that I had carried around with me for several weeks last winter and spring. Its sole purpose was to be an immediate reservoir for any brilliant ideas I had during the day. The only thing I ever wrote in there (besides grocery lists and bill schedules) was during my family's reunion-birthday-anniversary cruise last January. My words were interesting, and I clearly remembered writing them on the little boat that took my aunt, sister, and cousin to go snorkeling in the Bahamas. The funny part was that I wrote about how the breeze was making the weariness "seep from my bones". I read it yesterday while I was home from work. That is, after I was sent home for nearly fainting during a class. Apparently, the look of my skin was so bad that my students thought I was pulling a Halloween prank. While driving myself home, I was thinking about the recent events that led me to the afternoon and how embarra
1 comment
Read more

Busy Days Ahead

It's been a busy week for me. I left my house at 4:30 Monday morning for my drive down south and pulled back in my driveway at 1:20 this morning. The days have been long, too, between working at the new school from 7:30 until 3:00 or 4:00 and then working at the new place until 9:00 or 10:00 each night. I now have callouses on my fingers and not one intact finger nail. I think I've also developed a new twitch somewhere on my face. One afternoon this week, I stood in the middle of our new living room and took in the sight of missing drywall, a growing hole in the floor and soaked up my husband's predictions that we still won't be ready to paint by the weekend. All I wanted to do was cry. All I felt was nothingness. Numbness. Anyone who has ever reached the point of numbness knows that it's scarier than feeling like you're falling apart. It's one step beyond feeling like you're falling apart. I couldn't help but wonder just what we had gotten ourselves
5 comments
Read more

A Restless Soul

Someone recently told me that I have an impulsive streak. ("Just an observation, not a criticism.") My initial reaction was to vehemently deny that statement despite the fact that I had just confessed to walking into Total Wine and buying $200 worth of wine just because it seemed like a good idea at 11:00 on a Thursday morning. Me? Impulsive? Don't answer that, especially if you know the truth. I shared this with my therapist yesterday and his eyes lit up when I said, "I think I have a restless soul." The fact that his eyes lit up is significant since we spend most of my sessions arguing with each other about ideas like whether or not a book he recommended is filled with psychobabble bullsh*t or why I should do a bit more thinking with my heart instead of my head. For once, he agreed with me and quickly pointed out that this is not necessarily a bad trait. In fact, it's what stirs my needs to explore and to write. It's also the reason why I don't, by
5 comments
Read more