Wishing on a Blue Moon...
My personal life has been a bit lonesome and logy of late (shocker, huh?). As I mentioned in my last blog post, I’ve decided that I should try to get out “there” a bit more, both for networking and dating. Well, in networking I’ve succeeded in pushing myself to be social (attended an RYP event!) but in my attempt to date, it’s turned into what I term “non-dating”. As in, “sure, I’ll go out for a drink with you but you realize this is not really a date, right”? Getting out “there” involves making yourself vulnerable, however, if you go out “there” with a big solid dam shrouding your emotional availability, then you’re not exactly out THERE. You follow?
My dad never had friends when I was growing up and come to think of it, he still doesn’t. I always thought that was a problem and I would fear that I was going to grow up like him; friendless, curmudgeonly, yet somehow contented. The great thing is that after him and my mom divorced several years ago, my dad met a great lady who seems to have become his best (and only needed) friend.
Am I like my dad? Yes, I think I am. I shun the notion of strong friendships in preference of solitude. However, when good things happen in life such as signing with a literary agent or bad things happen such losing an employee without notice, I find that I really have no one to turn to, rely on, or share these things with. The person I’ll crack open a bottle of champagne with? Me. The person who’s shoulder I’ll bawl my eyes out on? Mine. These are the times in which I ponder the benefits of solitude versus the benefits of sharing life’s moments.
My Aunt and I met in June over some cocktails and she advised me to manifest my wishes by writing them down and offering them to the universe. I always thought this seemed silly, since I’m the type that struggles between believing and not believing. I’d like to believe that everything happens for a reason and I firmly tout my ideologies of serendipity. But to be honest, I sometimes anger myself with my own hypocrisy exemplified in discussions of destiny. Is the universe magical? Is anything in this world really ever random? I like to think random acts are not really random, but sometimes I just don’t know…
Tomorrow evening is a blue moon, which in ancient folklore is a rare occurrence and the perfect time for wishing. I’m closing in on 30 (gah!), progress is happening (or should I say I’m MAKING progress happen) in my “professional” life and I think I’m ready to take down my walls, MAKE myself vulnerable and available, and tell the universe that I’m ready for love. I haven’t been ready before (which has been apparent in my men choices) and maybe I’ll back out and change my mind, rebuilding that emotional dam as fast as an otter on crack. I think I’m going to put this whole “love” thing out to the universe though, let serendipity guide me as I make shit happen, and take my chances; mainly because blue moons only come around – well - once in a blue moon.
Cupcakes = Life
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