The Continuing Limbo That Is The Life of Steff

I don’t have time to write!

Most of the time lately, I don’t have the wherewithal, either.

This is what happens when I’m in complete professional limbo. Everything, everywhere, all up in the air. I have no idea where I stand nor where I’m going, even though I have secret inclinations as to what the destinations may be.

But I can say nothing. NOTHING.

Tipping one’s hand in public is wrong, wrong, wrong. Dumb! We are not hardy fools here, my friends.

Today, it’s work, waiting on whether it’s a decision-making time, talkin’, and hopefully making it all fit in time to attend a meeting of an organisation I’ve intended to join for more than a decade.

Which is all to say I sort of feel like vomiting.

My entire month, from about January 8th through to now, has been chock-full of wait-wait-wait. It’s a much better place than “what the fuck do I do”, like where I was wallowing before Christmas.

It’s funny, I made a couple decisions over the holidays, and this full-steam-ahead mode has been the result, ever since. What decisions? One day I might tell you. This is not that day.

I should be writing more of this uncertainty down, but it’s the kind of writing I hate. All self-absorbed and repetitive. Maybe tomorrow.

Today, a wind is blowing — moving a dark, wet, oppressive weather system that kept us all inside and lazy yesterday, out the door and ushering in a sunshine-and-wind weather pattern for the next few days. It’s an interesting weather day for feeling that so much rides on conversations, choices, and self-confidence.

But that’s where it is. That’s what it’s about.

Still, I’m trying not to rush anything. These times of tumult and change and possibility and unexpected, unpredictable futures… we seldom get to enjoy these. The questions that are swirling around me — I know I’ve spent more of my life bored into routine than I have dancing with chance and opportunity like I am right now… and this should be a rare much-savoured treat, this uncertainty.

It’s a hard mental place to stay in, it requires so much self-belief: This will resolve, I will choose rightly, the changes it will usher might be amazing, I can do this, and so forth.

Chances are easier to take when you’re well-monied. Let that be noted.

I am not well-monied.

The chances I may soon take scare the living shit out of me, even if they seem small and nothing-like to others.

The only thing that keeps me comforted is this — and it’s a big one: I know myself really fuckin’ well.

So, yeah. Life? I don’t know.

I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know. And I got nothin’ I can share with you. Or nothing I’m foolish enough to share yet, anyhow.

Now it’s into the mottled grey yonder, and into a big and daunting Monday. Let’s see where my life goes between now and the next dawn.

I don’t know. But I know I’m fortunate to even have choices, and I’m more fortunate I have the smarts to make ’em right.