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Sidewalk Drawings, Blackberry Curve

Okay, so I don’t want to prattle on too much about focus and pin-pointing your dreams and analyzing the bejeebers out of them so that one gets so bored and chaotic trying to pick apart the details that you give up on the dreams completely.

No. That is not the focus I am seeking.

Let me start from the beginning:

I am a very directed person. I am a person who catches millions of minute details every day, mostly without realizing it. I am a catcher, a cataloger, a bucket, a vessel. I am, perhaps, hyper-vigilant.

When I decide to do something/learn something/read something/get something, I do. I am not a half-assed sort of girl. When I set my mind upon something, I go all-out. I gather all the information, catalogue and store it in the appropriate filing cabinet within my brain. Then, when I need the information, it is readily accessible.

Trouble is, I have a lot of interests.

I mean, a LOT.

I get excited about things, passionate beyond imagination, soaking up and seeking out every drop of information and encouragement and disaster I possibly can. I request every book in the library system on the subject. When they arrive, I sit in the hold area and scan each one, determining it’s value before deciding what comes home with me, and what goes back into the bin. I have, on average, 25-50 books out at a time.

I research. I dive head-first into the world of search engines, wikis, and the blogging community to find my answers in real-time. I want every detail.

And then, I come to Mondo Beyondo. I sit and make a list of my wildest, craziest, most passionate dreams (many of which I did not previously know). I put the list away and forget about it, which is not easy for someone with a card-catalogue brain. I didn’t even look at the envelope in which my list slept.

And then I opened the envelope. I took out the list. I laughed, I cried, I exclaimed “What the Fuck?!” many times. I couldn’t imagine my good fortune in knowing all of these deep, intricate dreams stored in my unconscious. It was eye-opening, to put it mildly.

Here I am, two days later. I look at my list, see all these that feel almost impossible (but nothing ever is), and I don’t know where to begin. Some things seem simple, like I should just be able to pop off and do them, check them off the old white board. Other things are connected to people, or places, or things I don’t have or cannot seem to acquire because of a negative monthly income (I’ve been unemployed nearly six months).

I get lost in the words. I get lost in trying to determine where to start. I made my dance card, I filled both columns as best I could. But when it comes to starting my end of the bargain …

I don’t know where to start.

I haven’t a clue. I’ve been reading Seth Godin, and Everett Bogue, and Danielle LaPorte, and all these marketing brilliants. I have been blogging and journaling and walking and taking photos and calling people and making connections. I still can’t find the focus.

I wish, for a moment, I could see my life through a fish-eye lens. Or a pin-hole camera.

I spent the last twenty years thinking I knew exactly who I am, exactly what I want, exactly how my life will look (I started planning early — age 5). Now, I’m 25. I’ve got no job, no money, and I’m floundering. I can’t find the clarity I seek so desperately to find my path.

I want to know what it is that is my unique gift to the world.

That’s the focus I seek. The focus, the clarity, to know my path and walk it in truth.

What is your experience?