Satan Returns

It's a weird thing to be a full grown adult and find yourself floundering aimlessly to choose a choice, to name a path. It would be like I was 21 again; copious opportunities, life full of joy, little responsibility, tonnes of fun. But at 21 I honestly had more direction. Educate, accumulate, adventure. That's all I wanted to do. Now I don't even know what I want to do. I put it out on facebook and a well meaning friend offered me the google grab of 'Satan Returns' and though confused, I googled it. It was no help, obviously (if you're curious follow the advice of my friend Tanya, JFGI) What was a help was the outcry from other thirty-somethings with the same little-girl (or boy) lost sensation as me. Friends from all over sharing my inability to find a golden calling... Something they simply want to do, forsaking all other options. Turns out my dark demonic friend was really a white witch, had mis-typed and meant Saturn Returns. For those who have managed to live between the ages of 28 and 32 without hearing this little phrase here is a brief version of what I know. Please bare in mind I have only heard it through the grapevine and have never looked it up (Satan returns, yes... Saturn, no.) It is when the elusive Saturn is in approximately the same spot as when you were little and so you go through a similar formative process. Life changes rumble through your being and you have an opportunity to change who you are. Not only that, most people find themselves doing it out of instinct. If I look at it I guess when mine started I stopped being so serious about myself, found a younger fellow, rediscovered music festivals and ditched night-clubs and finally ran off around the globe on an 18 month (what is work anyway?) holiday. By the time my period of change was beginning to end I realized where I wanted to be, who I wanted to be with (or not be with) and now I'm beginning to realize who I want to be. Who do I want to be? Devoted kindergarten teacher on north shore of Sydney? Interesting foreigner teaching in Japan (in spare time skiing in winter or running in summer)? Smarty pants with a masters in geology like many members of dad's side of the family? Someone's girlfriend? Someone's landlord? Someone's aunt? Someone's mum? A singer, a dancer, a seamstress, a bum? My sage like friend Lisa reminded me on Saturday night who I was at uni. I was someone who wrote. I felt strong in my writing. I felt creative through my writing. I hoarded it; unfinished scraps of creative excrement. She suggested the artist's way... But I'm way to indecisive to commit to a six week daily writing session. So putting my blog on my iPhone is my compromise. Considering my relationship with my iPhone is as about as committed as I will get to anyone or anything at the moment it's a safe bet I'll be writing a bit. Well, until some other endeavor ignites my imagination.