When life hands you lemons, make a witty blog and a brand-new blogger space. That’s what the inimitable Mikalee Byerman did. Check out her blog, Me 2.0, and her Blogger Space below.
So — I write in the shower.
But I’m guessing neither Pauline nor you really wants a picture of me in that writing space.
And when I say I “write” in the shower, clearly I’m not putting pen to paper while shampooing and shaving my legs. Instead, my best ideas come to me during this time of cleansing and purifying. It may be somewhat psychosomatic (emphasis on psycho, I know), but the falling water and complete calm seems to inspire creative juices to flow. Writer’s Block goes down the drain, and I emerge with ideas.
Obviously though, I need to go somewhere to document these ideas. And for as many years as I can remember — for the entire time I’ve been a writer by profession and passion — it has been my home office. It is the fourth bedroom in the home I purchased with my now-ex; we had bought the home new, making every detail — from colors to carpet to countertops — something we chose together.
So when I discovered my marriage was over (through a brick, no less: yes, I’m the girl whose marriage ended with a literal brick…click here for more on that awesome story), I eventually accepted my reality and asked my ex to leave. Then I looked around at my home, the physical manifestation of my union with the man who destroyed my then-life.
And all I wanted was to throw it away and start over. From scratch.
In fact, upon divorce, all I wanted was to throw everything away and start everything over. From scratch. Hence the name of my blog, Me 2.0, which alludes to my next iteration, my next best self post-divorce.
It’s my do-over.
Now, the obvious way to shirk the symbol of an old life and embrace the new is with a physical move, but for me, this just wasn’t possible. Because here’s the sad reality: I live in Reno, Nevada, proudly known as the foreclosure capital of the nation (you only thought “The Biggest Little City in the World” was our slogan…). I knew it was the wrong time to sell, despite my mulligan. I’d have to find a different approach.
So instead of the big gesture, I began with many, many small ones.
My 1.0 version was immature, flowery, and naive. My decor matched that — until I began to purge. Out with the stupid flowers and stupid happy prints of landscapes and stupid homes I’d never visited; out with the stupid figurines and symbols of my past. I was done with blank walls and stupid pastel accents.
(That’s a lot of “stupid,” I know. But I was way over my 1.0 version, as you can plainly see).
My 2.0 was appropriately characterized by two colors: red and black. Welcome to my blood-and-death phase.
I’ve been entrenched in this 2.0 version for about three years now, with the beginning of my blog about a year ago symbolizing a new chapter, both literally and figuratively. Each post brought with it further healing and beautiful clarity and new adventures. One time, TIME Magazine’s web site linked to my blog. Another, Diet Coke made me part of a viral campaign. I was growing connections to wonderful readers, confidence in my writing and tackling my book, one post at a time.
And then, only a few weeks ago, I made a big decision — probably the biggest since I had asked my ex to leave our home. I decided to make the move from full-time employee of a company, to full-time employer of my freelance writing skills. I decided to quit my day job and pursue my dream of writing from home — writing for the many clients I’ve cultivated over the last few years, and writing the book I know is living inside me (and in part on my blog).
With this decision came the last hold-out from my 1.0 life. I wanted to move out of my home office, where I had been sitting at the desk my ex had bought years ago. I craved new perspective and a physical symbol of my new adventure, which I found in my loft.
And the only way I could begin this transition was with a blank slate. A clean canvas.
The loft is open and airy — which I’ve come to appreciate, as an unwelcome remnant of my 1.0 life is claustrophobia. My new space fits me perfectly, with windows overlooking the Sierra Nevada mountain range, trees and Reno’s sweeping blue skies. I’ve surrounded myself with a glass desk, calming candles and pictures of my family.
And one big departure: the color teal. Though accent paint hasn’t quite made the walls yet, it’s on its way.
Oh crap. Clearly, I’m entering my 3.0 stage, complete with a 3.0 palette:
But there is one obvious red-and-black holdout from my 2.0 version:
So: Any ideas on what I can do with my silly blog name now? Anyone else subscribe to my “out with my old, in with the new” philosophy after a devastating life change? And I’m dying to know: Does anyone else find inspiration through showering or other mundane activities?
Or am I just kinda psycho like that? 😉
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