Why am I vlogging and blogging. Why why why????
It began when my partner looked at all my journals officially on the bookshelf.
When we first moved in together it was like living in between night and day. He’s a minimalist. Everything has a home and everything has a place. He is extremely detail oriented, and yes, though he is a crafter? He always knows where everything is. He plans ahead and likes to know what the plan is before agreeing or disagreeing to go forward. Him and clutter are not friends. He needs comedy because there is too much weird in the world and comedy beats out negativity ten to one every time.
I have gotten better than when we first started out together. At least most of the time I will put the keys up on the hook by the door. But it was not always so.
I am a bohemian, throw it where it lies, I don’t clean my car out unless it’s an order by act of congress. I’m an artist who doesn’t know where anything is. I am not a clutter queen, per se? but I am sure that I’m at least a Clutter Baroness. I like to write stories and poetry on my days off or doodle cartoons and be left the hell alone to do what I want. I don’t want anyone to rock my boat? I want to recharge. And I become an overemotional wreck and cry at the drop of a hat…or want to binge watch scary movies till sunset. I like to socialize but I also like to be left alone to heal from the energy suckers in my life. My partner likes to bark at people to stir them up when they taunt me.
And I love my hunny and he loves me… so somewhere in between the crazy? We live there.
THEN ONE GLORIOUS DAY:
We were putting up our bookshelves – we have three large bookshelves and one (as of writing this – am looking into acquiring two more. ) wall mount book shelf.
And then he opens my book collection. I have a VAST collection of rare , first edition, signed books in my collection. . . but there are some that are just in the I don’t know where are what to do with this book!
That’s okay. We get to my journals. I have been journaling since I was 15. So I have kept every journal over the last 32 years.
What’s worse? My mother was also a journaler? I have about 3 of her journals as well. BELIEVE me? She had MUCH MORE than that! I come from two generations of former hoarders and fear becoming one. One night my husband and I went out to the fire pit with a bottle of sangria and lighter fluid – along with 4 boxes of photos of my mothers that were of just the side of the road from a moving car.
My beloved made a poignant observation:
“Honey. You say you never know what to talk about? You have a TON of journals here chock full of ‘Stuff’!”
In the last year, I have purged 5 journals out of our collection. To share with the world.
Hundreds of handwritten pages that need to be typeset by me truly.
Even more amazing is my husband found several books I was in final edit of that due to a tragedy during a move I lost the flash drive…but still have hard copies!
I will be doing much typesetting in the future.
He also noticed that I seemed to talk a lot in my car about everything and anything! Whether he was with me or not. I would talk to myself! About ANYTHING.
Until he put a window mount for my phone to record and glean data from for topics to share with the world.
It’s been cathartic actually for me.
Just one trip to work from home and I vented my spleen to the point I have material now for three future vlogs! Hes smart like that.
I wanted to share my knowledge with the world. I don’t see too many over 40 year olds that like to vent about the occult and dippity doo people who want to be king or queen derp of woo woo mountain. I don’t want to be rich. I don’t want to be famous. Nope. I want to be really really comfy and well liked.
I get sick of seeing people in the metaphysical trying to make others feel like they are insignificant and/or charging out the wazoo insane amounts of dough for something the person could do themselves.
So. There is my target market. YOU. My friends under the stairs on the island of misfit toys…the outcasts. I welcome you.
Consider yourself my unofficial nephew or niece. Expect more insanity to come.