Gold Dust Woman
Never have I been a blue calm sea, I have always been a storm
I was recently talking to a friend about our existence so far and how certain periods are so very distinctive that they feel like totally different lives. Until 2003 I was still in my happy-go-lucky bubble. I was working on projects, didn't have bosses, didn't have responsibilities. I didn't have a purpose either, nor the patience to look for it. I did have a kid and I felt at least responsible for providing a healthy role model to him. I have no idea what kind of a role model he'd think I am if he'd stumble upon my old blog's archives in a couple of years. Someone told me long time ago I was too aggressive. I actually thought I was feeling sorry for myself using a very aggressive language. I can't approve of disapprove of this now, I can only look back and understand. Nobody reacts elegantly in situations that lack any elegance. Not on the get-go anyway.
My blog was a journal of my becoming a woman. I became more responsible, I grinded my teeth and worked a couple of years for small people for even smaller payments. I wrote about this and I felt sorry for myself. Ironically, I had more "boyfriends" after my divorce than prior to it. I've always chosen fast and poorly. Some say I never chose at all. Although rather on the sad side, my accounts of love and loss came across as a diary of a diva. Nothing farther from it, but it seems the blog has served its purpose of helping others misunderstand me better.
In time I became more patient, and more selective. I started looking for substance. Perhaps the reason of my failure to change things was me needing to add more substance myself. For a couple of months now I've been feeling different. I am not oozing with happiness and I haven't uncovered some secret of the universe. I have a clearer vision of who I am. At least I know what I don't want anymore even if I'm still yet to discover what it is that I want. I know I don't want to feel sorry for myself. Or to cry. I have declared 2010 a tearless year. A year where every day is a joy because I have the chance to do something marvelous with it. I write, I read and I learn. I'm living instead of waiting.
I kept clearing out my closet from things from the past. So far the closet is empty but I know it will fill up in time with things from the future. I have nothing against my previous internet persona, but she could only carry me til here. I'm still writing, and I'm still writing under an alias. But I'm not doing it to hide myself, but to find myself.