There once was a girl who had an imagination that was borderless. Her mind could put anything to paper or computer, and she could go hours writing or typing up a story while listening and singing to favorite songs (and yes she did this at the same time without typing song lyrics into her work). Her worlds were full of fantasy and adventure. Her characters evolved through life challenging suspense, thrills, romance, and encounters that she no longer felt could be lived as most of the real world had already been through this phase. Her worlds were adaptations of the forest and field she grew up spending time in, movies and other books she had read and merged in her mind. She had more ideas than she knew what to do with, asides jotting down notes to come back to later.
A small handful eventually evolved into actual stories, lengths unknown. At least two of the many, uncounted, were even completed, one with her own artistic illustrations. But they never made it past being a first draft. The illustrated one has disappeared over time, put somewhere for safe keeping and lost, possibly never to be found. The second still sits in waiting, saved probably unsuccessfully onto a floppy disk, it’s paper version thankfully still in existance.
What happened you ask? Well….she had to grow up and become a responsible adult. Her time was spent revolving around work, sleep, eat balance with a bit of pet mingling in between. Cultural routine became the basis of life, rendering life itself to seem pointless. What was the purpose of being human if all we were meant to do was work to pay for the things we need to live? Because the government fears idle hands, and realized industrialism was the best answer to fix this with long work shifts and little family/pet time. There’s no time to kick back and enjoy, not until you can retire, by which point you’ve run yourself out of muscular capabilities to do the things that were once dreams that could be evolved into goals, and are now mental dust of who you used to be buried in the depths of your mental dungeon.
And so, in realizing this glitch in her lifestyle that she can’t seem to find a positive change for, she enters midlife crisis mode, in her thirties, trying to find an option that works better for her. She wants to be able to enjoy her pets while they are still around to be enjoyed, not just be maintenance service to them. She wants to get back into that draft story and fill it out more to be sure it’s an actual novel like she meant it to be and make it available for the public to enjoy, even if that genre is currently overloaded since Potter’s existence. She wants to enjoy her home, instead of just maintaining it, eat in it, sleep in it, and have a clutter of craft projects she never seems to have time to finish.
Nothing changes…
Her forties hit, and again she finds herself reassessing life as she losses nearly all to a house fire while everyone else is focused on a pandemic, and freak shopping for…toilet paper??!! Really??!! She starts job hopping again…unable to feel she’s fitting in because it’s all superficial to blend into a world she doesn’t fit into. At some point, she lands herself an adorable, retired farmhouse in a little rural town, with neighbors she’s too nervous to say no to when they request to walk along their already determined path through her back yard. She’s semi happily settled…a forest would do better, but it’s a start to be on her own again. Another job changeup, and she’s feeling like she’s getting closer.
Enter unemployment…mortgage, utilities, pets and self to feed…well sheep balls…
So here she is, trying to encourage her imagination to wake up again, because age shouldn’t be an excuse for it to regress into the dark dungeon of her mind, it should never have sulked down those dank rocky stairs in the first place. And in the process, she has decided to start a blog. Naming it after the twisted maple tree in her front yard. Mrs. Maple is a combination of young trees that were inosculated to form one wide trunked tree with a good twist in their upper trunks. (And the neighbors both say cut it down, it’s expensive wood! Baaah!! Away with you money sucking tree killers, she’s beautiful and alive!) She resides next to a mighty Mr, Oak and I believe both support a family of gargoyle squirrels one of which is the size of a cat…or are there two families?? To be determined later…
So if you’ve stumbled across my blog, welcome, and I hope you find my blah life of an introvert, who’s trying to mold her lifestyle to fit her personality so she can actually enjoy life without losing all that she deems important around her, at least somewhat amusing. And if you don’t know what an introvert is, you’re probably an extrovert. But really, we’re just the kind of people that get overwhelmed in the presence of other humans and prefer to party at home with books and pets and mugs of cocoa or tea…or coffee, but yucky! Either way, I hope you keep following or at least got a smile off reading this.
Blessed be.