“The individual is solely responsible for giving his or her own life meaning and for living that life passionately and sincerely.” Existentialist philosophies have been swirling in my head for weeks now. Something expected, considering my cyclical propensity to ponder on my purpose in life.

I have decided to take some time away from my natural habitat, alone, to indulge in my philosphical curiosities, to ruminate on my life’s contribution and to search inside my head for my soul’s passion. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a retreat, and I think I’m due.

My gut tells me not to travel with my usual technology arsenal (blackberry, laptop, ipod, digital camera); but I will keep that decision pending until I decide where I will be going.

Over the last few weeks, I have been studying search engine optimization, how tagging images and content properly improves one search engine relevance, the many site success metrics, among others – all using my websites as a playground. I re-read my blog, from 2002 when it was called “Renaissance Girl: Dailies” to 2010 when it should be called “Renaissance Girl: If Inspiration Strikes”. I’ve even created content on other platforms I have not tried before, just to explore how micro-blogging, social media and integrated blogging technologies can work for me. Dabbled in Tumblr, Posterous, LinkedIn, Spoke, Networked Blogs, I did. I re-familiarized myself with blog catalogues and their contribution to inbound traffic (the verdict is not yet out on that).

In the process of re-learning the environment I once swam in with cheeky confidence, I realize that …

… I have mellowed a lot over 8 years. At my worst, I was (in lieu of the term synonymous to a female dog) a “tempestuous soul”. Many situations that upset me then, in hindsight, are hilarious to me now.

… I miss paper. Web sites have the reach, yes; but are temporal. They are too dependent on author interest or server upkeep.

… I could very well have been the world’s very first “Twit”.  I had a need for Twitter years before it became available. My “Blurts” micro-blog, started in 2002, predates Twitter’s 2006 launch. I created the blog and integrated it into my main blog (all on Blogger site) and published several times a day, via a now defunct *.ru WAP-driven publishing engine.

… I may have used terms related to human body appendages one too many times. And Google, with its cached versions of sites that have quoted me, now haunt me like a bad election campaign song on loop.

What was once a solitary pastime has now infected one of my kids.

My second son, Diego, loves food.  He can taste subtle nuances in dishes and has a strong opinion on what has the mmm-factor and what does not.  He reads food magazines and stares longingly at the bright pictures.

So in an effort to teach my children to pursue their passion, Diego enrolled at CCA this summer for their summer program — and he loves it!  To further fuel the flames, I helped him set up his first blog today.  We chose Tumblr because it’s fuss-free.  We may have to change platforms once search-engine optimization becomes a factor or when he wants the bells and whistles; but in the meantime, the tool is perfect for a 10-year old.

So do visit Diego’s food adventures on http://kidfoodie.tumblr.com.

Asked why she ran after and scratched a classmate, my 6-year old daughter replied,  “He was looking at me when I was changing.  And when a boy looks at me without my shirt, I will destroy him.”

Asked why she wants to take soccer this summer, my daughter happily raised a clenched fist.  “Because I like kicking balls!”

Mommy is so proud.  ** Sniff **

Between working on office projects, being at the kids’ end-of-school-year events, planning the summer ahead, packing our old house, and prepping the new one, I have had very little time for anything else.  For weeks now, my day starts before the sun goes up and ends after my last conference call at night.  Sleep provides no respite — I toss and turn, never really getting the recharge the night promises.  All very likely from the anxiety of having too much squeezed into too little time.

Won’t it be fun to climb into bed and nap for three days?

Sigh.  Sometimes, it sucks to be an adult.

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