Today, I had to make some phone calls... Sounds like a trivial thing but holding "business" conversations for me, is pretty much like having a root canal. Aside from that, I hate talking on the phone.
I live a pretty great life. It's weird, but it's great. I try really hard not to take anything for granted, but I'm also notoriously bad at "adulting". It's nothing new. I've always struggled with the complexities of being a grown-up. I attribute a lot of this to the fact that in my head, I'm still pretty much 13 and giggling over words like "penis". People have used words like "cock" and "penis" in my presence and when I laugh, they say, "My God, you write romance novels. Can you be just a little bit grown up about this?" No. No, I can't. Yes, I write romance novels, which sometimes contain graphic sex scenes, but no one is here when I write those scenes. If they were, they'd see me stop typing and start giggling. It's just who I am. Maturity never caught up with me and I hope it never does. I don't do serious. Not well, anyway. The day you grow up is the day you stop playing. The day you stop playing, is the day you get old. I don't want to be old. I don't mind raising in age number wise, because age is just that... a number. But I refuse to grow up. Life's too short.
I look at people younger than me and see how hard they're trying to be mature and I'm kinda perplexed at the need they have to prove their adult status.
That's not to say I can't adult when I have to... I mean, I raised a child who is now fully grown (she'll be 21 this year) and did it without any major catastrophes or upsets. She's healthy, she's happy, she's as well adjusted as she could possibly be after living 20 years with me as her mother. Parenting was the easiest part of adulthood, now that I think about it. On the list of adulting duties I hate most, it doesn't even register, but then- I got lucky with my kid. Somehow, I managed to avoid the curse that all mothers (mine) place on their unruliest of children (me). You know the one... "I hope you have a kid who is exactly like you..." I lucked out. My daughter made parenting a breeze, so I adulted really well, in my opinion for the 18 years that she was under my care. Obviously, I was able to keep her alive.
I successfully adulted at my places of employment as well. Most of the time... though I hated every minute of every time I had to put on my "serious" face and handle something. I hated it, but I still did it and did it for years on end until I'd raised my kid and finally decided that along with the responsibility of raising a child, which was now over, my responsibility of working LONG, grueling hours to feed said child, were also at an end. I didn't have to pretend to hold politicians and local community leaders in positions of reverence anymore. I was free to finally be me, which is decidedly irreverent about damn near everything.
I've spent the last few years since leaving the work force, happily coasting on a minimal responsibility wave, that occasionally crashed to shore when things like taxes or a broken air conditioner happened. For the most part, however, my minimal responsibilty wave has pretty much ebbed and flowed out in the free, open ocean of "I don't have to do anything I don't want to." And I like it that way just fine, thanks.
I've had a few people ask me when I plan on going back to work. It's crossed my mind a few times in moments of what I like to call insanity. I'll have flash of conscience that says, "Jeez, Lori... Maybe you should just go back to work." But then, clarity returns, and I laugh at the idea. I work for myself. I do freelance graphics, I'm licensed clergy which allows me to perform weddings (my favorite thing to do) as well as provide spiritual counseling for those who need it. I'm also a Reiki practitioner, and of course, those those trashy romance novels I write... None of those jobs pay really well, but I decidedly chose a life of low income in exchange for the life of stress I lived when I worked for others. It was an exchange I don't regret. I don't miss adulting on a daily basis, either. I love being able to sit out on my back deck with a book in the middle of the day, if I want. I love having the option of composing these blogs or working on a new story in my underwear or pajamas. My life is great. I can't complain about a single damn thing. I'm poor, but I'm happy. I'm out of work, but I'm busy.
