Last week Joe blew my mind by informing me that I’m not a practical person. He said it after I blew his mind by commenting on what a practical person I am.
“No you’re not.”
“Yes I am. I’m like a fridge”
“No. You’re not. I’m not either. We’re not practical people—look at our lifestyle, who else would do this!”
“So you don’t think of me like the most practical of kitchen appliances?”
“I think you’re crazy.”
“I had no idea.”
I really didn’t. For many years now I’ve thought to myself with pride and joy just how practical I’ve become. The self-congratulations may stem from an awareness of just how many things I stop myself from doing-- like, 97% of what goes through my head. Somewhere along the line practically got confused with common sense. Still, it’s shocking to find out you don’t have a quality that you thought you had. Now I’m down to just one.
It’s true that we’ve taken on a rather haphazard existence, one in which making good [practical] decisions isn’t necessarily a part of, though it has been fun. Any hope of stability is a long way off at this point, but one aspect of our capricious journey that will soon change is location. And as any realtor will tell you: Location Location Location! Where and when remain to be seen, but somewhere awesome and soon are the answers we’re going for.
On that note, it has come time to apply for jobs and with that, inevitably, comes the interviews. And with the interviews come the internet searches for discriminating information, much of which this blog has. Not because I say nasty things about my old job or because of questionable hobbies, but because in a working environment I’m expected to be professional… and, well… ahem… I’m not. I’ve explained to Joe, after tugging relentlessly on his shirt until I had his attention, that my immaturity is great practice for when we have little kids; he’ll know just how to deal with them. And yes, I throw tantrums. Routinely. But for a few minutes during a job interview I can put aside my infantile nature to sound like a grown-up, something I hope to never actually be.
So, until this madness is over and someone gives me a job, this blog—my precious medium of expression, is regrettably going to become private. I will happily, welcomingly, include any readers out there who would still like access, and for the few of you who regularly read this I believe I already have your emails. It occurs to me that without the feeling of putting my words out to the world (regardless of whether or not the world reads my words), I may feel less and less inspired to write. Hopefully that won’t be the case, but even if it is, I promise to resume public posts as soon as I’ve tricked someone into hiring me. [See, that last sentence is exactly why this blog needs to be tucked away; it has a mind of its own.]
If you’d like to be put on the “un-private” list, you can send me your email at: firstname.lastname@example.org