Foreclosed.

I’ve always liked keeping a written journal. It serves as a great reminder as to what I was thinking when my brain was actively engaged during major decisions and life shifts.

Friends, it’s been a terrible year. I’ve never been wrong about so many things. I’ve never felt the sting of so many bad decisions building up at once. I’ve never been in such a tight spot that I couldn’t squeeze my way out and find some kind of mental salvation.

Misguided. Misinterpreted. My fault. The government’s fault. Freddie Mac’s goddamn fault. Maybe AIG had something to do with it? A decade or more worth of deregulation efforts? Predatory lending? It’s easy to blame a system none of us ever really understood to begin with.

It’s time to move on.

Today, as I sit here with a cold pizza for breakfast in my warm house, I’m reassured by a journal entry I penned almost a year and a half ago—when so many questions were unanswered and everything around us was new. I’d like to think that we’ve come full circle. Back to where we started. Relatively happy and ambitious. Ready for whatever comes next. Well, anything but buying another piece of real estate. I’d be surprised if we ever do that again.

So, with that, I offer you an old journal entry. An entry that makes a whole lot more sense now than it did then.

September 11, 2010**********

“New beginnings should require new Moleskines, but this one must be finished first. A wild ride, the last couple of weeks. It all started with multiple job interviews and eventually led to a loft in downtown Kansas City, Missouri. And here we are. Jez on her blanket, Cristi on the Aerobed and me on a step ladder, drinking coffee from a cup I dug out of the trash. Thank God for that Shell station stop in Iowa—otherwise I’d be trying to drink coffee from the maker.

Life moves if you want it to. At least it did for me as of recent. First there was potential then there was opportunity. Before I knew what exactly I had agreed to, there was money, moving expenses and a new life hanging in the balance.

As I scribble, the morning light is starting to reveal itself.  New scenery is always the most enticing. Right now, I don’t know what’s outside my front door. I saw a bridge and wanted to cross it, but haven’t had time yet. These are the things that make me smile and remind me what life should be. An adventure. Always an adventure.

There’s another bridge in the distance. I can see it now. I believe this is the way I’ll get to work. I intend to cross this one as well—just as soon as I can slip into something a little more comfortable and find my shoes.

So we move forward without the distractions of the past. We move forward without the anger from our past. We move forward because that’s the only direction that makes sense.

We managed to make our lives extremely complicated over the course of the last three years. This was our mistake. Completing the list became more important than experiencing the love.

We stopped crossing bridges and started creating barriers.

Onward. Again. With a little bit more focus on infinity.”

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One thought on “Foreclosed.

  1. […] Last Saturday, February 1, we spent the evening with a crackling fire fueled by the highly flammable box of leftover paperwork from our Chicago condo mistake. […]

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