How Did I Get Here?

I can't do it tonight. I cannot blog about something where I have to link sites and data. And I don't always do that. Sometimes I feel the necessity to continue to endorse Madison, but I am feeling too lazy to repeat everything I have said starting seven days ago about how Madison seems so highly populated, even though it isn't. I will save that for my next post.

Most of my postings require a lot of my thoughts as they come to me. On average, none of them take more than one hour. And I enjoy writing very much. I think it is funny when people send me e-mails regarding the posts and tell me to "publish it on my blog" - I guess they don't realize that is what the comments section is for. There is so much more I could do here to market it. Some day I will.

Some of my endorsements have been published in other sites. But, I know my friends love the more personal stories. So it's a real balance at this point.

So why don't I just tell you how I got here and where I am now. At this moment in my twenty nine years.

In 1998, at my private, prestigious, nationally recognized high school (no linking, remember, too lazy), we were asked to fill out a questionnaire that would be read to us at our 25th. I am guessing I am the only one who remembers that we did that. Or what I wrote on it. For example, I remember that I said I would have four kids, married to a much older man, be a real estate agent and an aerobics instructor. How lame is that? And how unsophisticated of a lifestyle, perhaps?

Anyways - I was already a real estate agent, so I can check that off of my list. I have taken aerobics. I dated a much older man. And I don't know what I was thinking regarding the four kids. I would consider four dogs, maybe.

At my twenty-fifth reunion, I can't really guarantee anything, can I? Except that I will remember everything that I wrote on that questionnaire. And I am guessing I will still live here, although who the hell really knows the answer to anything?

I feel like I have had nine lives. Each one of them gets better. On the weekends, I always think that I have a good life. I have a cozy little home. My family is totally normal. Even if we are divorced. I think my boyfriend is hot. Even if we may divorce. I have great friends. I have learned so much. I am dedicated to running. And my work. And my dog. And I have an easy lifestyle that I chose.

And I can't believe what I did. My boyfriend and I were going to our first "gourmet cooking club" dinner the other night, and this thought came through my head of "I have this whole social life and I just up and moved here sixteen months ago. How crazy was I???!! What was I thinking?!" I can tell you this: I don't think I could ever do it again. And when everyone told me how brave I was, I would think they were the crazy ones. I am just realizing how crazy I was. That sounds like a very scary thing. Breaking up/moving 500 miles/leaving your job - alone - all at the same time.

I am proud of myself. And I am aware of this now. I hope to go to my 25th reunion. But who knows where I will be then?