Here I Go Again

I’m super excited to have been invited to join a blog group alongside three talented bloggers.  Each week, one of us chooses a topic and we all post a blog entry on that topic, usually on Thursdays.   

Here are the links to the other fabulous blogs:

Merryland Girl

Froggie

Moma Rock

This week’s topic came from Moma Rock, who asked:  What is something (or more than one thing) you’ve done or tried (been there, done that) that you will never do again?  Here is my take:

            I hate to admit it, but after a great deal of soul searching, I . . . got nothin’.  Sigh.  I really tried.  I did.  I’m not kidding – I wracked my brain for the entire week.  But I seriously could not think of a single thing I’ve done that I would never do again.  I thought about this subject every day, sometimes for minutes, other times for hours.  I mentally reviewed my life to think of one single thing to satisfy Moma Rock’s question.  But I came up empty.

            And, of course, that got me thinking:  what does that say about me?  Does it mean I don’t try exciting things?  That I’m unadventurous?  Boring?  Dull?  I’ve never considered myself as such, but perhaps it’s true.  I’ve never had the urge to jump out of or off of something.  I’ve never dreamt of repelling down the side of something or climbing up the side of something else.  I don’t know how to swim, which means no face to faces with sharks, and although I’m sure it is gorgeous, I’ve never really wanted to scuba dive or snorkel.  These are the types of activities I could see falling into the “been there, done that” category Moma Rock suggests.  I’ve never tried them.  I’ve never wanted to try them.  And here we are.

            But the question remains begged:  is that bad?

            I mean, I’ve done stuff that seemed kind of gutsy to me, even if those things didn’t involve great heights or deep water.  I moved to Los Angeles in my twenties, knowing only three other people and without a solid job lined up.  I went to a tough law school when I was twenty-nine (and everyone else was twenty-two) – and with a two year old in tow.  I’ve driven across country, twice.  I’ve written a book (and I’ve even let a few people read it).  I’ve argued in front of the Illinois Appellate Court.  I’ve ridden huge roller coasters.  I’ve eaten (and enjoyed) oysters.  I write this blog.  I attended an all-girls Catholic school, for God’s sake!  All of these things took some degree of courage.  But I simply cannot say that I wouldn’t ever do any of them again (well, maybe high school … ).

            This leaves me to wonder what this all means.  Maybe it means I was born without a sense of whimsy, or even that I’m a creature of habit.  Or maybe it means that I know myself well, that I know what I like and I choose accordingly, avoiding situations (and foods) I know I won’t enjoy.  Or maybe it means that even though I didn’t particularly enjoy something, I wouldn’t ever rule out doing it again.  I like to think it takes some courage to live one’s life by one’s own terms and staying true to one’s intuition.  So pardon me if I don’t leap from that plane or eat that chocolate-covered bug or slug that shot of tequila.  But you can count on me to save you a place in line for the roller coaster.  But only if we can ride twice.