Wow. Almost 24 hours after my last chance to sit down, think, write & reflect something happened which has changed my life. Here I am two months later. I used to feel bad about losing track of time. But my time has been full. I am full-filled. Today I set 5 goals. Took 17hrs. But none of it felt like a chore.
My other half and I bought a house. Not just any house. A semi-detached. With a garage. Two triangular back and side gardens. A front garden. And a boiler with radiators. And an attic full of junk.
Nothing else. No kitchen. No bathroom. No updates as far as we can tell from probably the 70s.
Ironically I’ve always joked with the girlfriend that I’d never buy her cut flowers as a symbol of love. Nor would I lavish her with material positions. (Despite writing that, a year ago I got an unexpected £1000 bonus which I let both of us spend on impulse – does it count if it is money I’d earned years before and didn’t need at the time?) I said I’d only ever build her something, like a garden or a home.
She must have been paying attention. Because right now that is exactly what I have to do. She’s working full-time. She loves what she does to earn money. I’m working part-time. And I can do it, because my employers put people before process, and as long as they make a profit – it’s all good. Even so, I refuse to go full-time.
I can’t justify delaying the life I have now, for some future life which may never exist. I’m luckily – I dodged the marital and parental early flush in my twenties. And I’ve had a chance to grow into being someone I had no idea I’d be. And I mostly like me.
I’ve also committed to doing more with beer, beer festivals. And continuing to give my time and energy and see what comes back to me. So much so I achieved a proof of concept at the end of January, used my experience to make bits of a bar work as a bar. No manual. No plan. Just one piece at a time.
But not that wild care free open-ended play-space of my youth.
This is different.
Working on a house, being taught what is possible, pushing myself outside of my comfort zone has given me a respect for those who work for themselves. The honesty of giving your word, and following it through. Of having a project with a start and an end.
Of trying to be something because it appeals to me, and not because it’s what I’m told I’m suited for. The home doesn’t matter. It’s who I share it with that counts.
In my life, it’s not about what someone needs from me, or what I need from them. But what I can give, and what they share.
I’m often tired this last month and a half. I often ache. I’m hungry a lot. I’ve also gone down a pant size, have I skipped the odd meal to get something done? Did I get down over Christmas and New Year because I felt I’d failed myself.. maybe.
Sometimes you need to find the right tool for the job. Brute force and raw energy will only get you so far. The rest of the way I’ve gotten by working with people. People who know me, some who love me, and some who just needs someone with my very particular skill set. And some who maybe, just maybe, are doing the same as me. Getting on with living.
Do I have an end in mind? No. I have thoughts. Suggestions. Almost like blowing on a dandelion head. I’ll never know how many seeds float off, nor will I necessarily find out how many germinate. As long as a few do. It’s all worth it.
But they may. Is there a secret?
I just keep waking up in the morning. And there’s something to do.
I do still make lists, I do still try to finish them. It isn’t the process of the list which is important though.
It’s just a matter of helping me focus on what I really need to do.
Live in the now. What did I just do? What am I doing now? What will I do next?