Last week was my birthday. As a gift to myself, I’ve decided to stop making sense.
See, as a Virgo, making sense is comforting to me. I am organized. I scope out situations. I push myself, but they are calculated in that I know what I am getting myself into. I have taken the road less traveled (and it has, indeed, made all the difference), but I invest in a GPS and constantly fact check in order to make the road less traveled more secure.
But I want to find more joy in my life. So here are some of the senseless things I am doing.
I am writing a second book in a mystery series. The first manuscript isn’t sold. I could keep editing it. But instead, I am writing the second one. And loving it.
I am querying agents. I read the blogs, I know my chances. But I love my book. And more importantly, I loved writing it. So I am going to try and go the traditional route (though that may not make sense).
I want to go surfing next summer. This makes NO sense, since I have never been surfing and am not even close to agile enough to do it. But I want to go surfing. Or paraglide. Or both.
And the most senseless thing I’ve done of late? I adopted a cat. I had pets as a kid, and have had two cats as an adult. Having to put them to sleep killed me, and I have been gun shy about putting my heart at risk again. But I heard about a cat who needed a home, and I decided to go for it. She is 11, which could mean that our time together is limited. Or not. Who knows? She needed a home, and it turns out I needed her. It makes no sense, but has brought me joy.
And that makes sense.