I'm really terrible at blogging. I have a tendency to either overshare (boring or disturbing you with the minutiae of my life) or else let weeks, if not months, pass by between postings.
I don't have any burgeoning offspring to track like all my relatives; there isn't even a dog or spouse in the picture to spice up the commentary. All that exists is the subject matter cooked up in my brain and I'm decidedly not narcissistic enough to think people really want to hear this crap all the time. "Oh there goes Karen on another one of her rants" I can just imagine people saying. I cringe at the thought of being the obnoxious blowhard who never shuts up.
But then I have people begging me to tell them my adventures and I realize that one man's (woman's) daily life is another man's adventure! Who am I to take away the fantastic joy of yard saling through life stories?
And so you have the conundrum(s) that faces me each and every time I sit down to write:
1) Sleep? Or write? Sleep usually wins, every time. There are two lives in this world (and a whole lot of others on the road) that depend on me being alert while I'm behind the wheel of this monstrosity. I don't take that duty lightly.
2) Does anybody really wanna hear this? Or am I deluding myself into thinking it's worth reading? Self-doubt wins out a lot more times than I would care to admit.
3) Reprisal. Can I safely write about this without getting in trouble, getting fired, or pissing someone off to the point that I'm going to get hurt? This internal censor of fear has shut down more posts than I have ever written.
As it stands now I'm in the third hour of sitting at a dock waiting to be loaded. The first hour was spent just waiting to back into the dock. As I cough and hack huddled under a blanket fighting a cold, I have to wonder what someone in a cushy office job would envy about this. But if I'm honest with myself, I already know; cuz I used to be one of those cushy office job workers, ready to poke my eyes out as I fought for such grave injustices as the failure of the supply room to stock both invisible AND transparent tape for our use. The nerve! Don't they know there's LIVES hanging in the balance here?
However, I do miss being able to do the simple things like drink water before bed and not have to climb out of a truck and walk across a snow and ice covered parking lot just so I can pee. (There's that oversharing I warned you about!) I miss being able to bake cookies on a whim and stay in bed when I'm sick.
On the flipside, I don't miss the petty, shallow focus that consumed my life off the road. Neither do I miss the constant hectic turmoil I kept my life in so that I wouldn't realize how unhappy I was. I don't miss my inability to seize the day or moment and realize that every scrap of life is precious.
So for now I stay on the road, craving adventure and delighting in the small stuff that can make a day so grand, like a beautiful sunrise, colorful sunset, or fantastic food at a crazy hole-in-the-wall place found completely by accident that becomes my new favorite when we take that route. I giggle at obscene postcards and send them to my friends whenever possible, hoping to put a smile on their face as big as the one I got when I found it. I delight in good coffee and indulge in half-n-half in my hot chocolate for the ultimate combatant of PMS. In short, I do everything I ever wanted to do but was afraid to let myself do before life became so precious. Don't wait til your end of days for that last hurrah or moment of fun; pursue it NOW while you can enjoy it.