Bombdiggity Days?

I want to write a book. "About what?" my Mom asked. I don't know. Fiction, loosely based on events in my life? Now I am certainly not saying that my life has been all that interesting, but I have met a lot of different people and learned a lot of different lessons in life. I am also pretty good as spinning an entertaining yarn sometimes. Just yesterday I got a rather straight-laced individual I know to call me the "bomb-diggity". Hee hee. I had said it to him months ago and apparently the insanity of it stuck and he used it yesterday. I was amused. Hmm, possibly I could use the phrase "bomb-diggity" in the title of my novel.

I wonder, if the story is loosely based on my life, and it eventually has to end (hopefully well), then maybe I will find the answer as to what I should be doing with this life. I wonder every day what I could be doing, why I am where I am and what changes will occur next. Melissa Etheridge sings a song entitled "If You Want To" in which she states,

"See I've got this funny notion
life is only just an ocean
I've been drowning in emotion
Now I'm swimming back to shore
And I'd like to talk to you"

I have sang this song more times than I care to recall, but just recently those lyrics struck me. I have learned that events such as this one, which in the past seemed obsolete, striking a cord (no pun intended) within us at a later time, are to be noted and realized as important to the right now. I have allowed myself to drown in emotion, clouding my actual wants/desires and letting self-doubt and regret stop me. I need to continue paddling for the shore, paddling toward my future. Swimming in circles just 100 feet from the shore is exhausting and fruitless labor. I do hate to waste my time. There is also the fear that the sharks that circle just 150feet from shore are looking to pull me further out and eat me alive. I have met some of them, and their bite hurts. I am a stronger swimmer, when I can pull my head out of the water.

I am thirty years old now. Ever since I was a young child, I believed I would not live to be 30. I have no idea why or exactly when that thought came to my mind, but I believed it to be so, even to the night of my 30th birthyday. Well, I am alive, three months into being 30 and still kicking. I realize now, my physical body was not to die before I became thirty, but all the baggage of my past and my old way of being were to pass on. I am changing, and for the better. Turning 30 was good for me, hopefully 31 will be even better.