our house, in the middle of the street (read:crisis)

I've recently come upon a blog of a rather well-known woman trying to find herself (in my books, being known by VF's James Wolcott is well-known - and no, it's not Virginia Woolf) and I became inspired. In one day I've discovered her blog (thanks again, Wolcott), mulled over the concept, created several of my own (yes, several - titles continued to allude me by sounding either like outgrown expressions of teen angst or like chick-lit novels), until finally, inspiration struck:
this evening, catching up on past entries of her Elizabeth Gilbert-esque journey of culture, couture, confit, and self-contemplation, I felt dreadfully sad at her lamentations of directionlessness. Sad, and strangely sympathetic. For, while this self-seeking woman is much more well read, well travelled and, quite definitely, better fed than I, and while our situations, nationalities, ages and professions are or seem entirely different (and this comparison is definitely not meant to discount her, quite the opposite), I couldn't help but think, this woman is not lost; I've found her, and she's sitting in front of my computer... only she got to go to France.

Different women, different ages, same questions, same space. As she sits, in the next apartment, surrounded by old transcripts, letters of recommendation, essays and projects, I'm sitting in my own small apartment, in a room just like yours, and quite like hers (though I'd imagine her musing is conducted in a much chiquer space), surrounded by my own recent print history of sleepless nights and 'well done' s, and wondering, what the hell for? Et voila! L'inspiration, she strikes, comme ça: while it's a comfort to know that the 'where am I going' crisis is not limited to twenty-somethings, it's also quite haunting to know that question can remain unanswered.

So, as in the golden days of literature when a rose was still a rose and inspiration wasn't copyrighted, I propose a similar project - in my quest for direction and a reasonable plan comrpising a reasonable length of time, I'll share any guidance or gems of advice received, and any small revelations I've had while staring at soup or waiting for the bus, all the while getting back in the habits of writing and reflection, trying to find what's definitively me. And perhaps, from one dame to another, with two blogs from two rooms, we can make sense of this mess, find what we love and, some day, get paid for it.

And hopefully I'll be blessed with the gift of concision somewhere along the way.