Everything All At Once...Again

I'd like to blame the hormones.

Not necessarily my hormones, either.

How is it we can go weeks, months, possibly years (please, years is nice) with the same ole' same ole' and then all of a sudden, shot-in-the-dark-style, everything right is wrong again (to quote my favorite alternative 90's band.)

Maybe it is just me.  I am an ever-changing, adaptable, personable, professional (wait, that's the kind of stuff I put on cover letters, never mind...) But I have to admit, when I get this way, I look for new things.  It takes a LOT to get me to this point...I am in love with safe zones and comfort, maybe a little lazy at heart, easily amused, willing to let things slide off of me like juice off washable yarn...yet somehow?  It's happened.

NO!  Calm yourselves, it's not knitting that's brought me to this point.  That would be the exact opposite.  I know, I never post ANYTHING anymore, much less pictures of all the things that keep me from exploding.  Even the site that I joined that's wholly dedicated to all-things-yarn, well, it has my profile, but I'm just too quick at giving stuff away to document it.  Maybe what I need is a twitter for crafts?  Critter?  (OMG if I just came up with the next million-dollar social media site idea!!! Yeah, no. Way too many of those already.)  And it's not Seattle.  It's not friends, nor even family.  I know you're all intelligent stalkers/readers, so I'll not insult you and just keep going.

Anywho, parts of my life got ummm dull, and very soon started grating against me.  First extremely minor, but slowly building up into big whopping against the grain/nails on chalkboard/in the car with your sibling for way too long kind of ways.  And seriously I can't tell if it's me being overly sensitive, or if there really is a conspiracy going on against me!  You know, so I can be made an example.  Be shown "my place." At every-day-that-much-closer-to-forty*, I've learned I can't stand that BS.  I graduated high school So.Very.Long.Ago.  I do believe 2012 might actually be one of those "significant" years even.  Suffice to say?  I play very well with others, but I hate silly games.  Especially when people are only out to "prove something."  So I've officially taken steps.

As my mom said just yesterday when I let her in on what I needed praying for (What?  Doesn't everyone ask their religious-bent folken to intercede with their deities on their behalf at times when you think "A little more can't hurt?") we all have to keep moving forward.  Cuz, otherwise (thank you A.H. in whose little boy mid-west twang I will always hear this in my head)  you're stu-uck.  And now it's all about "hurry up and wait."  Either this will be a wake up call for them....or me.  It goes both ways.

I think I just need to know where I stand in the world.  Like I said, significant time has lapsed since I was fresh and young and had a whole life in front of me.  I refuse to become a bitter old mature woman.  I let a lot of things pass me by and sometimes do wallow in the "what could have beens" I will not lie to you, that would make all of this useless to me,  but you don't win the lottery by just watching the adverts.**  And I guess I just bought my first scratcher in four years. (Did that metaphor go to far?)

And thank you blog, for being here like an old friend so I can at least let that much out.  It's like taking an enormous cleansing breath.  I started you so I wouldn't make my housemates go stark raving mad about all the yarn and patterns and WIPs and FOs and rants like these...and I miss you.  And I'm trying to come back.  Again, taking steps...though some might be itty in comparison.


*I know, I know, I've got a couple years yet to go.  I think I hold forty as the new 25.  Or something. You know, that "age" that we used to make lists about?  "When I am 25 I will have a nice haircut."  Or is that something only I used to do?


**I have no idea where some of these sayings are coming from...I blame the creeping anxiety + maybe a little more coffee that I usually drink on a Saturday morning.