Blogger is teling me that this is post number 800. My first post was on the 24th of September, 2002 and was a review of caffeinated soap. I had posted it to a mailing list and then posted it to my blog.
And there followed 798 short rants and navel gazing. I started my blog because I was blogging for my mother and periodically sending prolly 799 short rants and navel gazing to all my mailing lists. "Why don't you start a blog?" somebody asked.
Goodness a lot has happened in my life since I started this project. A few months ago I was blogging about a lack of identity after having had so much occur. Well, I'm settling down to be pretty much the person that I've always been. Have the same interests. Act the same way. Do the same stuff. I don't want to go through all of this and then learn nothing and not change at all, but I dunno, here I am sitting at home on my sofa, typing on a computer, thinking "I should bike more often. I should go to more concerts. I should quit goofing around and go do some actual work." All these shoulds have been haunting my blog and my life for years. I should stop saying "should" so often.
I like myself, which is newish, but probably not enough yet. Also, I feel your pain. No, I really do. I have way too much empathy. Bad boundaries or something. So my perpetual self re-invention project has new goals: I would make myself less slackerly, better boundaries, less empathetic (oh my what a bitchy-sounding goal) and more self-luvin. I look at that list and think, "my goodness, I am a product of my time." I distrust personal philosophies that are overly self-centered. But it's problematic to confuse boundaries with selfishness, isn't it?
So this is my Saturn Return, right? How have I come around so much stuff and ended up basically the same? Maybe I had it ok to start out with. Maybe I just needed to more know what I had? Maybe any construction needs a solid foundation. Whatever. The day everything suddenly makes sense is the day I reach enlightenment. And I want to do that. But not yet. I like the mystery. I like the journey. I never skip ahead in books to read the end. I want a few more lives to figure stuff out at my lesiurely, slackerly rate of figuring.