That was me blowing the dust off of this thing.
As you can plainly see, my days are no longer spent creating goofy instructional yoga videos, talking to my camera about feelings of insecurity, or writing droning musings about my latest yoga class or dinner. Granted, I’m still writing about yoga and other inspirational things, but with a gig that provides a paycheck every other week, a gym membership, and a cozy little office space at the Gaiam headquarters.
I have mixed feelings about this. On one hand, I’m so thankful to have found a job in this godforsaken economy, and I’m so fortunate to have found one that is on-point with my interests and lifestyle. On the other hand, I have abandoned my baby – my blog – the one that I had not too long ago told myself that I would somehow, someday, make a living off of. Upon moving to Colorado, I told myself I would do only what I love, and nothing else. I would blog daily, get discovered, become famous, and eventually rule the world of Yoga-Food Blogging. I would say goodbye to office life, bid farewell to stress and anxiety, and live my life to the absolute fullest. Then reality came knocking, the rent came due, and I did what I had to do: I got myself a job, at an office, with co-workers and regular working hours. Existential crisis, commence.
I will say that my brief stint at Elephant Journal de-glazed my rosy outlook on the life of a career blogger. It showed me that blogging for a living is not all the effortless networking and writing and brainstorming that I thought it would be. The life of a career blogger is all-night turmoil when your site goes down and you have no IT department to turn to. The life of a career blogger is answering the bazillion emails flooding your inbox at 3 a.m. while wondering when it was you last ate. The life of a career blogger is trying to keep your shit straight while you’re going on three hours of sleep and six cups of coffee. (Thank you, Waylon, for pouring some truth serum over this notion for me. I honestly don’t know how you do it.)
In my defense, Prana & Pie was a project created by an overeager optimist who had just quit her soul-sucking job (that would be me), moved to the mountains (me again), and was teetering between the world of blogging and the world of gainful employment (hi). Obviously, gainful employment won out, and blogging was left behind, only to collect cobwebs and spammy comments about Rolex watches and Viagra.
This leads me to a rather embarrassing and somewhat humbling confession: I am a serial quitter. I love to start new things, and I hate to finish them. I dive headfirst into new projects with fiery passion and vigor – until I burn myself out and the next new thing comes along, leaving the old one in the dust, only to collect cobwebs and – well, you know. I quit gymnastics in preschool. I quit board games that I’m not winning. I quit basketball in elementary school. I quit movies that become boring. I quit Spanish in high school. I quit the honors program in college. Do you see where I’m going with this? I do this with hobbies. I do this with books. I do this with exercise regimens. I do this with food trends. I do this with blogs. I do this with…friends? Two things that aren’t subjected to this pattern of quitting are jobs (I get one and I keep it) and romantic relationships (see previous statement). For whatever reason, I seem to hold onto these two things with an iron-clad grip. Psychoanalysts, I beg of you an explanation.
Part of me says that it’s only natural; that there is a fluidity to life that allows for new things to come and old things to go, that it’s all about ebb and flow, that nothing’s permanent, and that humans are in a constant state of evolution and change. I even keep a Snapple lid in my purse that, to me, says it all:
Finding myself by process of elimination.”
But another part of me wonders why I can’t stick to anything, and is annoyed by my perpetual flightiness and inconsistency.
A theory I have is that when I start something, I’m overly ambitious in the beginning and put forth entirely too much effort to be sustainable, thereby setting myself up for failure when the enthusiasm wanes. If I could turn down my ambition, perhaps I could extend the life of my interest. But throw work, home, family, bills, obligations and life into the mix, and it’s really just easier to completely quit the thing that’s least pressing.
I’d like to think that somewhere, a happy medium exists. That somehow, I can be efficient and energetic enough to work a full-time job that is fulfilling and inspiring, write whimsical stories about yoga and food on my popular blog, spend at least an hour on the mat or in the gym, walk my dogs daily, cook creative, nutritious meals every night, remain a vibrant and attractive spouse, and have a glass of wine and watch a movie when it’s all over. I aim for this. I yearn for this. I want this. I WILL DO THIS.
So please do not consider this Prana & Pie’s (rather complicated, long-winded) eulogy. This is my confessional – merely a cathartic way for me to 1) update you on what’s been going on in my life, 2) do away with the guilt that has been tugging at my shirtsleeve for the past month, and 3) possibly generate some much-needed motivation to keep the dust off this thing and post more often. 2011 has been an amazing year for change, growth and self-realization, but there’s always more row to hoe. I hope that you’ll pick up that hoe with me, and whatever it is that you’re aiming for in your life, you’ll go after it with calculating determination, a dash of reality, and plenty of grace in 2012. I know I will.