What's on tap for 2020?

As I sit down to start this post, we are in the waning minutes of 2019. I don't know what 2020 will bring, but I am hopeful it will bring some new things and perhaps a new, sustainable career, or at least a job that will help me cover the basic costs of living.

The year 2019 as least led me to a more-or-less full-time job, but it's frankly not covering all my basic costs. I'm behind on several bills and digging a deeper hole all the time. But I hope we will be able to get my dad's estate settled in 2020. It's been a long couple of years since dad died in May 2017, just 9 months after mom died.

I can't believe I haven't covered that on here yet, but then I haven't posted much of anything here in recent years. Not about my parents. Not about my brothers. Not about my daughter. Not about my abrupt career derailment. 

There's a lot to get people, or the blog at least, caught up on.

In recent weeks/months, I've had a few people in my life ask me why I don't write anymore. I have avoided answering that question with friends, and I've avoided asking it of and answering it for myself.

There are many reasons why I haven't ventured in to writing, even here. A significant reason is that my confidence in myself and my "skills" has been shaken by being tossed out of journalism, in spite of a few attempts to get back in. On top of that, I haven't been a reporter/writer in a long time, although I have written throughout a 28-29 year career in journalism. 

I certainly want/need a creative outlet of some sort, whether writing or photography or both, or some new creative pursuit. In my head, I blame lack of funds and equipment for avoiding the photography angle. But the lack of writing? I'm not sure what to blame there, beyond lack of confidence or drive. What if I have nothing to say? My past writing has been either 1) work related and based on interviews and facts based on some news or human interest angle; or 2) journal-like either in the form of writing in a notebook or one of a couple of older blogs; or 3) short social media posts on Twitter or Facebook.

I have no "great American novel" dying to get out locked up inside me. At least I don't think I do, as it has not made itself known to my conscious mind. I have no compelling true-life story I'm dying to tell. And I don't think I have any particular wisdom to share from which I think others may draw inspiration. I just have questions and doubts and fears and foibles and failings spilling out all over my life.

So, I don't know what to write. And outside of creative pursuits, I need a job that challenges me again intellectually and even creatively. But I don't know what that might be, in spite of applying for multiple jobs in multiple fields.

I have got some experience working in food service and retail fields, in untrained fields. I'm kind of living my work-life backwards, working in unskilled areas now in my 50s like many of my (former) peers did in their teens and 20s.

It's an interesting time in life, and not interesting in a good way. I wish I knew how this particular story will end. I would like to get to the next chapter as quickly as possible, instead of slogging through this interminably dull and painful chapter.

Waking up from a long slumber

Life had gotten boring. I didn't realize how boring until things turned around. And when it turned, it turned dramatically.

I'm not quite sure where to begin. A big project at work has resulted in long days and long weeks. And it the midst of all that, I almost moved to Portland. Twice.

There are many things about the prospect of becoming a commuter and the living arrangements being considered that were a cause for concern. I didn't know if my old truck could take a 90-mile round trip every day. Plus, I've lived alone for 5 years, and I came very close to becoming the roommate of my two young nieces and their mother in a two bedroom apartment.

It would have been a major lifestyle change. And I have to admit, I was excited about it. Most of my friends who live anywhere close live and work in the greater Portland area.

Unfortunately, the move fell through, not once but twice. But the prospect of the move got me excited again. It got me looking forward to a new life. The project at work, the launch of a new website, though taxing and sometimes frustrating, also revitalized me.

The pace of life accelerated rapidly. I now realized I had not been moving toward or working toward anything in some time. I'd merely been hanging on and trying to get by. That's no way to live.

I don't know yet what that next goal, that next objective is, or even what the next project might be. But I know I need to have something to work toward, to climb for, rather than hanging here trying to maintain a grip on a life that is not all I want and need it to be.

Is my work following me home or is my home following me to work?

The lines in my online life are getting blurred. I started a Facebook page for work, in order to create a page for my employer, and ended up finding a lot of friends. So I have a mixture of work colleagues and personal friends in my contacts.

I started a Twitter account, also for work, and tied it to my Facebook account, so my Twitter updates seem to amuse some of my friends because they update people on stories about farm animals and crop reports.

I like more tidiness in my life. More separation between my work life and personal life.

The irony is, once upon a time I used to tell people that what I do is who I am. I hope that's no longer the case. I hope that who I am is more complex and distinct that my merely stating my chosen vocation.

Sometimes work helps the personal life. Sometimes my personal interests inform my professional life. But I'm not sure how comfortable I am in having the lines of my online digital pursuits at home and work overlapping so much. Maybe it's just a sign of the new media environment, but it gets a little creepy.