I got nothing.
In school studying journalism and each week’s assignments are blowing up my mind. Learning how to manage my creativity and workflow is something I’ve never really done before and I feel like a stranger to myself. Having to produce week after week in stretching, practical, technical ways is a powerful antidote to self-doubt. Keeps me too busy to think about the future, men, or logistics. Nose down, next step.
That’s not to say that I’m not filled with self doubt, but I think it’s from the debris field. Everything feels up in the air: how I talk to myself, what I expect from myself, what I want from my life, and how I engage with the world. I didn’t realize how insular I am. So very, very self-protected. Have had to be.
I think I am excited about the future, and hopeful, but I’ve never really felt that before, so I don’t trust it yet. Will be nice to get THAT behind me. You know: the feeling that I’m fundamentally broken and the next shoe is about to drop.
Talking to my sister about the other gender today. Told her about a blogger I heard about who took a year off to just date – no strings, no agenda. Just date.
“What did she come away with?” was her question. “Don’t know,” was my answer.
Not sure why the thought of dating seems so viscerally repulsive. I’m sure I like guys instead of girls, but at 45, the whole Pavlovian dating / intersecting rubric feels like a whole lot of slightly moldly bread. And who likes that?