Generally, I try to make a point of not starting posts with lengthy explanations about just where the fuck I’ve been. I suppose this time is a little different because it’s relevant beyond just curiosity. As I mentioned in one of my very long posts, there is no part of me that runs towards change. I don’t necessarily run from change either. I tend to just dig my heels in, fight it, and shelter in place. Much like the idiot who refuses to sell to the city in cases of eminent domain. Sure, you might win your case but you live in a highway median now. Grit serves us well, belligerence shoots us in the foot.
|One of my favorite Barbie photos ever.|
|Remember how I was giving up carbs...|
|The sunrise on the vernal equinox was absolutely unreal. It had been weeks since we'd had anything other than grey skies and it broke for about 15 minutes to reveal this otherworldly show.|
So you can imagine my shock when I started feeling the urge of change before it started calling me. While I started my business amid personal chaos, personal chaos does get sorted out with a steady hand and a corkscrew. Things that used to make your blood boil now barely merit an eye roll and there is comfort in the minutiae. Though it can be murky realizing that not feeling plagued doesn’t exactly mean you’re thriving. Recovery of any kind--addiction, heartache, financial exhaustion, grief—must be taken one day at a time to reach success. But how long? The only people with a RECOVERED stamp to press to paper are the IRS. There is no clinical assessment of how healed a broken heart may or may not be. So at some point, it’s up to you. No surprise as a well-cushioned Taurus, I moved a little slow. Somewhere in the last year, the propellers began to rotate here and there. Kicking up mire and that sat previously undisturbed. And in these cycles of clouding and clearing, I made more room. More room for options, permissions, and allowances. Forgiving people in earnest, not based in declaration or pomp. Apologizing to others in sincerity, not hinging on manipulation or motive. If I could term this time, it would be that everything was placed under review. The mental equivalent of Janet’s favorite hobby: removing everything from your house, cleaning it, and scrutinizing each piece as it comes back in or is officially divorced from your life. I learned things like I need a lot more white shorts and a lot fewer celebrity memoirs. Not exactly enlightenment but I’m on the road.
This is challenging because you come face to face with the unrealized pieces of past and current dreams. It’s confrontational and dusty, both mentally and physically. Hopefully through this, your gaze is widened. And where you lived in the myopic cycle of surviving the recovery, you can reset the course from decisions and plans you made while treading water. The hardest part is accepting that failures along the way do not need to be final, they are allowed to just be knots in the wood.
I came into the new year with a sense of restlessness and unease. I needed to think. And since I’m slow it took a while. Like, I feel like for about five months my free time was spent with a vacant stare and radio silence. Maybe I just got fat enough that I was in hibernation and didn’t know. Regardless, it was good. While my mind at work is a one way tunnel, my mind at rest is more like a summer treeline at dusk. Between the squirrels boning, birds chirping, and lightning bugs twinkling, it’s hard to focus. But as everything in my head boiled, steamed, and distilled, I began to get a vision for a new direction. Or another direction, I suppose.
So first things first, I am still going to do hair and have my salon. I still love doing hair, I love my clients, and I think they love me. In addition to hair, I’m moving into real estate. I’ve always thought about real estate, as it’s a natural fit with my talents (if we can call them that) and interests. God knows I have an eye for detail and can work a list. But it wasn’t until I braided in a Hilton Head connection that it made perfect sense. As many of you have sensed, a part of me belongs down here. Yet, not all of me. If rain and wind-whipped October days amid the decadence of decay were no longer a part of my life, I don’t think any amount of dappled golden light dripping in through Spanish Moss could spackle the hole left in the absence of deciduous magic. If you’re familiar with HHI, you know that it really could be OHHIO as the amount of Ohioans there practically makes it the Midwest. So my working plan is to provide kind of concierge service, connecting with people in Ohio and then also working with them down in South Carolina. I’m currently working on my Ohio license and will then also become licensed in South Carolina.
I wanna live two places. Can you do that? Have you done that? This is where having a blog comes soo in handy. So many of you are smart and experienced and willing to share. Please share your thoughts about living two places at once. Have you done it? How’d it go? Was it for work or pleasure? Have you owned a vacation rental? Horror stories? Tell me, tell me, tell me. If you are or hear of someone interested in Lowcountry real estate, thiiiiink of me. My cell is 614-314-8099. Put me in your phone just in case! It’s written on most mens bathroom walls anyway. It’s 2017 and we all know privacy is dead. Speaking of which, you may throw rocks at me and call me a hypocrite. I am now on Instagram in official capacity. Follow me! Or don’t, it’s fine. I probably will actually post a photo of myself there though so if you’d like to grab a seat for the horror, it’ll be there.
|Gorgeous Red Headed Woodpecker|
|An Indigo Bunting! I hadn't ever seen one before.|
So the plan at this point in time, is to buy a place down there as kind of an office, place to stay, place for Barbie, and maybe I’ll offset the expense by renting it in season. I need to get my fucks in a row before I do that, but I’m hoping sooner than later. I’m sorry to say this will all happen more slowly than rapidly. It’s not really my nature to share things like this as they unfold, but I suppose sometimes we cannot be omniscient narrators in our own lives. So rather than my usual practice of sitting here and updating you on the other side of whatever the focus of the story may be, I’m going to trepidatiously share a bit more in real time. As Mr. Gorbachev and I tear down this wall, I’m wearing a little bit more vulnerability. Which, admittedly, makes my skin crawl. But it’s good. I’ve ended up opening myself to other phenomena of the natural world as well. After all, change does have a ripple effect...
I’m sorry for the long silence and truly touched that some of you really missed me. Thank you.