Normal and OK

Hi there.

I am home now, back from a postcard week with family in the Columbia Valley, BC. I flew overnight and lost 2 hours in the process, so I am tired and calm. This summer has done some good to me. My favorite part was not working in Amsterdam; it was BC and it was Florida too: the true holidays.

Coffee at 8 o'clock? Why not, I'm still in it. I am returning as the new/old me: a bit bigger, a bit slower, similar but elsewhere. Same same but different, as some would say. Crickets are chiming in loudly in the dark evening beside me. It's the first time that I hear them here, from the wide open back door of home.

I continue to know that I need to write. Always have and always will, and I will get into that now. First thing first, I need to write my own sad and sappy story. I won't publish it, I think, but this autobio has been clinging to me like an old, rundown, wet gown from another era since forever. It's a fact: even at 5 years old, not long after learning to read and write (self-taught), I had my mom setup the typewriter in my bedroom so that I could write the story of my short life.

What I really want to write is not that, and here is my problem: I get stuck at the very first questions. In what language do I want to write? I can't choose! I want freedom to write in both English and French. What, then, is it that I will write? A fiction, a novel with characters I'm guessing. Short, I hope, to start with. How? When? On what medium? For who, etc. I don't know -- but I want so much that I can't choose.

I'm good at writing in here because I have no agenda, it's different.

So I decided to do some online writing workshop to get me going. I'm tempted to do a full-on career change and to Study too.

As far as my current career goes, it sure has been a roller coaster ride. I grew in it more than I could imagine. And I can grow some more, but I need to watch my health. It's a high stress world, and a challenge for me always, to keep my emotions at bay and to feel 'normal' and OK.

I'm thinking now that mental illnesses aren't illnesses. I'm thinking that it's adaptation and evolution in the Darwinian sense. We need to do things that work well with our minds. If I am dysthymic, autistic, borderline, depressive or bipolar; if I am right-brain, left-brain, or even just very creative, then I need to find the life that makes it easier to live with that quality. And that life may bring a quality Me out. Just a thought.

I'm not reproducing anyways, in the Darwinian sense. Not at the moment.

I haven't been bored in a very long time, so I must say, this is a big step forward. The gown is falling off me.

Amourx.