Hello, 2015. Looks like I skipped 2014. Still here. 10 years later.
I'm not intending to dump my little blog. I just get paranoid about posting. There's so much junk on the interwebs, I wasn't really confident I wasn't adding to it.
My how the 'net has changed even in 10 years. Being fed up with the space junk has led me here. (And yes. I'm avoiding packing that last bit of junk in my little house on the prairie.) Social media- it became a thing when smartphones grabbed a foothold in 2007. Suddenly, we all were capturing the "happening now" in real time. Updates to Facebook turned us into ourselves and yes, attention...* ahem *
Posting to the blog might be venting. Maybe. Or is it more? Well speaking of...
I'm currently in a life transition of sorts. I don't have it all figured out. But I wanted to risk something while still "young", unattached, not married and no delightful dependents to think of. Just. Me.
I joked with family and said my whizz bang smartphone would be the last irresponsible purchase I'd make for myself. That may not be true. I mean, I could always get a car. The point behind the phone was thinking only about me, finances and sharing them not a part of the equation. Just one person to account for.
And actually, the same is true with this move. This is for me. This is a chance to see what my tree can be watered and humidified. Not exactly irresponsible depending on how you assess the situation.
I felt the most alive in college. Lots of synaptic connection. Exploration. Balancing and negotiating. And for crying out loud, creating! I'm moving to the land of opportunity- opportunity to fan that flame. Or flames.
Selfish? I don't think so. I'm moving to grow. You know that tree I mentioned? A guy named Tony has a miracle berry tree that he bought a few years ago. Long story short, the poor little spoiled tree just wouldn't give him berries. One. Two. But that was it. It was asparagus. In tree form. Tony put a bag over it to create it a little ecosystem the way you would those little terrariums. It was alive. But just not happy.
An unfortunate turn of events separated the biologist from his amazing roommate and on the hunt for a place to be watered himself. In a scramble to figure out the next move, Tony stayed at a local campus ministry house and relegated the spoiled tree to the back deck in direct sun and our state's fabulous, stifling humidity.
And the tree exploded in berries.
Tie up what you will about producing fruit with living water. I'm not stopping you. I agree whole heartedly. That spoiled tree wasn't spoiled. It was depressed in tree form. It needed love. And by love I mean proper care. Oh sure, the biologist loved his tree. He watered it. Put in the sun and did what he could. It's not like the tree could tell him, hey, I miss the steamy Sahara. Those were good times. I did well there. I like you, biologist. But this environment...
I want to produce berries, I mean, fruit. And, unlike the little tree, I CAN speak. I'd like some humidity, please. (Actually, my hair loves the humidity. Yet another reason those college days were good.) I want to share the love the flirted with for two years with others in Robin-y ways. I had no idea how dead I've been since moving from my home town. Don't get me wrong, I've enjoyed it here. I don't regret that BIG move. I had to grow. But I also had to realize what parts of those experiences lit my fire. And, after 8 years, I have a collective. As well as an intersection.
I don't write to justify anything to anyone. I write to say I'm disgusted with social media and life on the prairie. That's it. I'm looking forward to trees. Friends. Pottery. Cooking for friends. Less traffic lights. A roommate. I don't want to be alone. I want a community. And to be a hippie.
I want to live life more interesting. Live more giving. Life more loving. Give. Live. Love.
Robiana
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