In my head

The fire is in my head. In fact, there may not even be a fire. Maybe it's just smoke.

Things are changing and the older I get, the worse the changes seem to be. I guess I'm settling into a routine. My life is becoming more and more routine the farther I get from the constant flux that is life in school, university especially, when you didn't know where you were living one year to the next or how you would make enough money in the 4 short months of summer to survive 8 long months of school.

I'm getting old. I'm married, have a house and a full time permanent job - all good things, but all lead to routine living. But when I think about me, about who I am, I don't think I'm average, that what I do, even if it's the same day in and day out, is the same as anything anyone else is doing. I take my cue from the people who tell me that I should write a book. These are people that don't know me well and don't know about this book: my blog. My question is always: who would read my book. I would, they always say. I'm sure you would, but you could always just ask me questions until I've told you all my stories. How long could that possibly take. Ask J, I think he's close.

The routine that I didn't entirely realize I had, was badly disrupted in the past, oh, 3 weeks or so. I would say things were pretty normal until we went to Mexico. We came back and haven't settled in - being sick and apart and thrown off are some things getting in the way. Other things are unbloggable and mysterious even to me. Everything seems to be conspiring to change me, change how I do things and change the things I want to do.

All this time pondering my navel, to steal a phrase from Crazy Aunt Purl (who got a book deal based on her blog I should mention), and I finally figured out what to do. Do I try my best to go back to the pre-Mexico routine or do I forge ahead and create a new normal? The answer to that question is to forge ahead and that's what I'm doing, grudgingly.

I'm finding that I don't blog as often as I did before, even though it still acts as a catharsis of sorts, I don't take as many pictures and I don't seem to care. I'm spending more time in the kitchen, preparing healthy meals, more time with J and with Sandy, more time sleeping. I suppose my focus has shifted somewhat and, apart from being a little freaked out by the resulting fire, I'm going to go with it. To the new, glowing me.