what to do?

I am totally unsure about this blogging business, but I want to write. One of my life goals has always been to write a novel. I also grew up loving journalism, and find that blogging is it's newest form. So, here goes...

I moved to Ireland from my native Illinois during the summer of 2001. After meeting my eventual husband in an Irish pub in Chicago, I found myself loading a container and heading to a country that I had no interest or connection to, but was ready for the adventure of it all. I had a 5-year old daughter at the time, and since then she has become a real caileen-- totally Irish, in other words It was meant to be for a year, but my mom had died the year before we left, Bush was president and then 9/11 happened.

Suddenly, or not so suddenly, I was happy enough to keep my distance. In this new life it was easier to forget that my mom was gone- since I was so far away from home. It was a fresh start, a new life.

Well, a lot has happened between then and now, but recently it has just seemed like 'more of the same'. It is feeling stagnant and boring.

Back home I liked to think of myself as a traveller, somewhat nomadic in my settlement. I have always loved starting over-- I have had countless jobs and a very long list of addresses. But now I am a wife (yikes!) and a mother of 2. I have 2 dogs, 3 cats and 4 hens.... a mortgage and a very big back yard.

I regularly feel as if I'm living that Talking Heads song-- 'this is not by beautiful house!' 'how did I get here?' ...... Now, don't misunderstand. My husband could not be better, really, besides his lack of tallness, and being able to eat ANYTHING he wants and not gain an ounce, he is a dream. But my life is not as I had dreamed.

First of all-- take away said husband and kids-- they weren't in my plan. (Correction, they were both planned contraception-wise, but growing up, I never thought I wanted them) Same goes for marriage. Both of my parents were divorced, and seemed fairly unhappily married to eachother when my mom died, and she was only 45. It isn't as if that got bored of eachother in old age- but anyway, my point is that nearly everyone I grew up with came from divorce, and it didn't really appeal to me.

I THOUGHT I would grow up in rinky-dink Urbana Illinois, get away asap, preferrably to NYC- become a professional photographer and/or journalist (either National Geographic for travel and sites or some political watch dog for action and controversy) No ties, only adventures.

Well, I must say there have been some adventures, but now it seems I get up tired, go to bed wired, feel annoyed by students and co-workers during the day, and generally live a whole different life that just happened.

I am itching for change, which brings me back to the whole traveller idea. See, here in Ireland, there is a sub-culture of 'travellers', a race of gypsy-types who once travelled around mending pots and pans or doing odd jobs. To be called one is generally considered derogitory, as they are seen in modern times to be lazy, uneducated and somewhat inbred characters living off the dole.
Right now I would take either-- the travelling life, or the lazy one.

There is too much activity in my days, but so much of it feels meaningless. In the past that has meant I should move, get a new job, or acquire another pet. Today, it means to write, to paint, to take photgraphs and to recognize that this life is an adventure too!