It was Tiara who called it a quarter-life crisis. Funny, huh?

I have spent a lot of time being sure of myself.

I was sure of myself when I started Virtual Magpie, way back when. I was sure that I could design brilliant materials, build really great websites, and provide enough value to the people I worked with that they’d be happy to pay me for my efforts.

I was sure I could run a business that paid my bills. I was sure I could move to Austin and let go of my last available safety net (that is, living in proximity to family—who have to take you in whether they like it or not).

I was sure that Marty could break amazing ground with his artwork, that it made no sense for him to work all day at a job he hated just to pay bills. I was so sure, I constructed a mad plan to allow him to quit that job... and do what he loved. I was sure I could make that difference in his life, and make it work.

I was right about all those things.

This last year, I decided that I wasn’t going to do anything I hated anymore. No more taking jobs just for the money, no more subjugating my master plan for a temporary fix. I was really vehement about it, too. I stopped doing business the “traditional” way and started treating my clients like friends—and only dealing with clients I felt truly friendly about. Pretending I was someone else simply wasn’t worth it. The world would have to accept me as I was.

The world did. Everything got better from there. Projects started to go more smoothly (and arrive more frequently). Clients were happier. I was happier. The money was better. My life became perceptively more positive and even more reliable. I started feeling really good at making my own living.

But then something kind of funny happened: I stopped really understanding what it is I do.

I got so caught up in listening to the tiny voice telling me what to do, what was best for myself, that I got halfway down the path and realized I didn’t know the destination. I didn’t know what I was striving for. I was following instructions—really good instructions!—but I didn’t understand what the instructions were leading me to. Without an explanation, I had no context. I was still going, but I was lost.

As of right now, I still am.

I know that I care a lot about the world and the people in it. I know that it evokes a powerful emotional reaction from me to see people laying about and wasting their potential when there is such need in the world for clever, skillful doers. I know that it makes me incredibly angry to see children being taught ineffective systems, to see people slogging through work they despise because they were taught that adults hold down jobs and pay bills, and that’s the end of it. I can’t stand it.

I can’t stand it.

But try as I might, right now I don’t understand what my purpose is. The little voice tells me what to do (sometimes) but doesn’t tell me why. That’s not useful, little voice. I take orders from myself great, but I need to know what’s going on here. It’s important, man. You’re decreasing my productivity. I need the explanation. The explanation is my will to live. It’s the thing that gives my life meaning.

And if someone asks, I’m not even sure what I’ll tell them.

Me?? I have that problem?

Dude.

Everything you know is wrong. You know?

I know that there are probably lots of reasons for this little hiccup. I’ve been working unbelievably hard, and not really taking time off until very recently. I’ve been making impossible things happen as a matter of course. I’ve been the insane scientist focusing on the unlikely goals at hand, intent on getting what she wants even if no one else believes it’s possible. And that focus—that obsession—is causing me to lose sight of the whole situation. I can’t see the forest, because the trees keep coming at me with machetes. Those are some serious trees, yo.

So what’s the solution?

I think it’s what I’ve been avoiding all along: Step back. Be still. Wait.

That’s when solutions come to me. When I wait.

Oh, man. I can do this.

Right?

Today it’s pouring, and we’ve opened (almost) all the windows and turned on all the ceiling fans to get the cool air circulating and unstuffifying the apartment. It bothers me a little that I can’t do this in my bedroom, because I like my bedroom to feel open and airy. But I will put that on my Next Apartment Checklist, and we’ll take care of it the next time we move.

Here is my Next Apartment Checklist so far.

1. Windows looking over a drop, not a walkway. I would open the windows much more often.

2. Bigger, more cleanable, more open kitchen. The kitchen is small, which in itself isn’t awful. But it’s also very enclosed, which makes any insect or cleaning problem ten times worse. In addition to this, the large appliances don’t fit the spaces made for them, which means—this is disgusting—there is this incredibly, awful, awful buildup of grime and dirt and god knows what else in the tiny alleys. There are gaps between a quarter-inch and three quarters of an inch or so, filled, filled with this awful gross grime… because it’s impossible to clean it without removing the appliance. And I didn’t notice this when we moved in, heaven help me.

3. Either IN the corner apartment, or far away from the corner apartment. Being right next to the corner apartment means that we are privy to everything going on in our neighbor’s lives. It also means that they’re populating their porch with stuff, which means that all of their stuff, including their cigarettes and ashtray, are right outside my bedroom window. So… it’s effectively as if I don’t have a bedroom window. More than that, they smoke outside that window all the time, so I can’t really ever open it unless I’m going to sit there and monitor to make sure I can close it before someone lights up. This makes me really sad. And in addition to all this, because the neighbors have made the area outside my bedroom window their patio, with chairs… they talk outside my window. And I can hear everything they say, just as if they’re standing next to my bed. It’s very disarming. I don’t know what to do about it just yet, but I’m thinking.

4. This won’t be a deal breaker, but I want opposing windows. I want windows on more than just one side of the apartment, or even a balcony. I want to be able to promote air flow, especially on rainy days but even on hot days. It can get pretty stuffy in here.

Some of this I’m still hoping to do something about. We have never had a relationship with neighbors before—we’ve never really had neighbors before! I would really like to bake them cookies and explain to them about the noise. I don’t know that there’s really a way to deal with the rest, because I didn’t say anything as I watched the patio furniture get fruitful and multiply. But now, instead of a chair and an ashtray… it’s two chairs and an ashtray and some plants and a squirt bottle. And some old cigarettes.

I was feeling good about the rain when I started this post, but now I’m feeling sad and a little bit hopeless. And… my Next Apartment Checklist isn’t very concise. And we’re not going to move out at the end of this lease, which is in July.

Muh.