A Serious Post: Part 1

The Realization

So, this blog has been a few things so far:

Random, for one.

Nonsensical.

And (hopefully) mildly humorous.

Oh…and delayed in its posts.  Sorry about that.  I’m going to, from now on, make it a point to at least post once every 2 weeks.  (But I’m really shooting for once per week.)

But this blog is supposed to be chronicling my 30^th year of life.  I guess to me, beginning a new decade in which it’s commonplace to assume that at this point one should be acting like an adult at all times, seemed like a good time to chronicle.

Because by all outward appearances, I am an adult.  I own a home, I have a child, I’ve been married…and divorced.  I have bills, a job, and I have to cook for myself if I don’t want to starve.

So yeah, for all intents and purposes, I’m an adult.  But the funny thing is I don’t really feel like one most days.  

(I mean, at least twice a week I meet with people in order to play games and do improvised scenes about how my womb has become home to a giant tarantula…or something like that.)

And maybe that’s why I failed to update—because to be honest, although 30 feels different from my 20s, it hasn’t felt different enough to warrant posting, after posting, after posting lacking any new insight.  I mean, how many times would you like to hear about how I ate peas for dinner?  Or what my cats did today?  Or my wild and crazy Friday night of sitting on my couch, in my pajamas, watching Bridget Jones’ Diary for the 30^th time?

But then, then something happened.  Something that basically changed everything.

Someone I knew personally was attacked and murdered.  

Now I’m not going to go into details about what happened, but I’ll explain what needs to be explained in order to get my point and realization across.

 

She was a karaoke buddy – more than an acquaintance, but not quite a full-fledged friend.  Somewhere in the middle.  We shared the same passion for the same hobby at the same local bar.  We knew the same people.  We’d had conversations.  She wasn’t close enough for me to feel the same loss that those who knew her best are feeling, but she wasn’t distant enough for me to not feel some sort of pain and sadness that I’d never see her again.  After so many years of seeing her once a week, even if we didn’t talk much, I’d never see her again.

That startled me.  I watch plenty of true crime series on television.  And being highly sensitive, even with those programs I have to limit my watching time—and avoid watching them before bed.  And those people are strangers to me.

So when I got word on what had happened with the person I knew, it was definitely a whole new experience for my brain—and my heart—to process.

For the first few days, I was in between being completely out of it--just constantly trying to process that this thing, this terrible, terrible thing had happened to someone I knew (and not just any someone, but a really nice someone.  A kind-hearted, good-natured, harmless someone)—and trying to distract myself by going about my normal routine. 

But my normal routine, well, it stopped being so normal.  I mean, nothing had changed, save for me deciding to take much more caution in being out alone, but it was different.

I was now dealing with trying to process that something so scary came so close to my little world.  It stuck its nasty foot onto my lawn, walking past me, but onward to someone I knew, and it left a footprint.  

I realized then that I needed to take a long, hard look at a lot of things in my life.

The positive is that dealing with this whole thing taught me some pretty substantial lessons about myself and the world.  (Which I will share with you in A Serious Post: Part 2 - The Lessons)

They also caught the guy pretty quickly after the whole thing happened.  

And I’m sure, above all else, that my karaoke buddy is at peace—and I’m fairly certain the afterlife provides a karaoke song book selection that’s boundless and no wait to sing.  ;)