Okay brain, here’s a blank page and a connected keyboard. Dump it out.
It’s 1:08 am on a Saturday morning and I’m trying to type as quietly as I can, hiding under the blanket-turned-tent as I prop it up with my head, trying to let Jarrod sleep undisturbed.
I tried going to bed close to midnight, so I’ve been up a while. Was scrolling Tiktok earlier for about an hour.
Lemme try and change position, my legs are about to cramp.
Ahh…
I feel like the day was over before I was done.
I’m not stimulated enough, not tired enough. I spent the day doing mentally light tasks, things that didn’t mean much, but still needed to be done, and that’s contributing to my boredom and the feeling that I have more to give.
It’s like I haven’t sucked out all the juice that I want from the day.
Perhaps watching Dead Poets Society is affecting me. I haven’t carpe-ed the diem. (Side note, seeing a young Robert Sean Langford in a Shakespeare play was strange and gave me newfound repect for his acting ability.)
But I’ve had feelings like this before. I know that I’m unhappy when I haven’t used my brain during the day.
So I’m awake squeezing satisfaction out of life.
An intellectual life.
The ideas “personal curriculum” and “writing a column of your life” are being bandied about in my frequency of Tiktok. The former asks you to choose what you would like to study, and to create something out of it, much like how a class would result in a paper or a project. The latter asks you to notice and perhaps even romanticise your life, or maybe to investigate and write an incisive commentary.
I need to change position again. Owww… Whoops Jarrod’s awake.
I didn’t think much of the concepts until we were watching The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel and the dad, Abe, was talking to a friend about how they wanted to start a newspaper when they were younger.
I didn’t start a newspaper, or even a cool ‘zine, but I did start a blog.
And sometimes I want to — no, take away the “sometimes” — I do want to write something that helps, that matters, that is beautiful, that has meaning.
Sure I have many stream-of-consciousness type blog posts.
I wonder what happened to the version of me that wrote compositions and papers. I know I was traumatised and put off them by university and English tutoring, but somewhere deep down I know I still can and want to write like I did.
Move legs again. Goodness, how did I use to do this for hours when I was in my bedroo… ohhh. *tries to make it work here*
I wanted to learn about colour and style and beauty and health and fitness. I might not turn these into personal curriculums, but they are a part of my interests.
I might, however, want to turn my realtor side into a personal curriculum.
It’s strange that I’m not choosing writing. Even though I’ve been doing this for most of my life, I can’t see myself creating content about writing (and I’m on that frequency of Tiktok as well). So much of what I can do is so innate — I never properly learned the English language, I just absorbed it — that I cannot dissect it or observe it well enough to teach it. It’s quite a loss, when I have a degree in Linguistics and I tutored the language, but I know it too subconsciously to want to bring it out into the light.
Perhaps one day I will, and turn it into a craft that is also conscious. I will gain much from it.
Leg cramped.
As for being a realtor, I’m a complete fish out of water, and that’s the perfect place to be when you want to observe and learn things.
There’s:
- basic real estate knowledge (to start out)
- getting clients
- negotiation
- branding
- advanced real estate knowledge
- running a business
- perhaps even creating systems.
There’s a whole world there to learn.
Ker-cshhhhh
12:28 am on Sunday, the next day. This time I’m tapping on my Google Pixel 4a and it’s silent. Now all I need to take care of are my back and my legs.
Jarrod asked me what I wanted, out of life. I told him I didn’t know…
I do know. Or, at least, I know now.
I’m a writer. A presenter. A content creator. I hope to make money out of the words I write, out of the things I create.
If I could make things that people learn from, that would make their lives better, that I could create a community with, and would also made me (us) rich, that’s what I’d like.
I also realised that I’d like to have a long-term goal. Something to work towards. Something that guides my decisions because it’s the basis on which I say yes or no.
A home? (We have one.) A home of our own?
A career, a business, in writing? Making life a little better? Better living? Sounds like a magazine. (In fact, I think there is one. Probably a home decor or health thing. Goes to check. There’s a website for travel, food and entertainment. The main domain name and .blog are taken, but better-living.com is available.)
Leg crampp. At least I’m not assulting Jarrod’s ears.
12:44 am.
Do I dare be seen yearning and working and trying and failing and… succeeding?
I look at Wendy, Jarrod’s friend, and she’s out there doing it, cringe be dammned.
I look at her and I think “Yes girl!”
I look at my friends and I think I need a change.
There are some — no, many — wonderful people I’ve met in real estate. There are people working hard and growing and learning and chasing their dreams.
I don’t look at them and feel inspired.
It’s just the way it is.
I see Wendy and I think “She’s getting it.”
I look at Jarrod and he’s burned himself out building his dream of creating communities around the world that help each other, and I know I’ve met someone with a purpose.
Taking a moment to say “thank you” to Divinity because this is a life I didn’t even know I could have. Not the burned out bit, the partner with a real dream/direction/motivation.
I don’t think it’s coincidence I’m with someone who’s a coach. I don’t think it’s coincidence I’m in therapy. I don’t think it’s coincidence I’ve been reading self-help books. Life/Divinity has a way of making sure you’re exactly where you need to be.
Do I, dare I, show that I want something? To live life to the full? To break out of the mould I’ve placed myself in?
Girl, where’s you disappear to? What happened to… Oh. She got hurt. So she’s afraid, and she kept herself hidden away.
Well, here’s the thing: I’m not going to get much sleep if I don’t make life interesting. So this hurts me on an everyday level.
What would happen if I joined Jarrod at Mind Evolve?
What would happen if I decided I’d run my own thing?
It’s been a while since I chose a spark and a light.
I wonder where that would take me?
💖
Image of a firework going off in the evening sky by StockSnap from Pixabay.
