A flibbertigibbet. A will-o’-the wisp. A crow.
My shiny new obsession feels like destiny. Let's see if the Universe finally agrees.
For the last decade, I've been compiling drafts for different books (nonfiction and literary nonfiction), retreats, workshops, self-reliance practices, and self-improvement sessions. A two-drawer file cabinet filled with files, research materials, drafts, etc. about homesteading, gardening, meditation, mindfulness, writing, creative practices, spiritual practices, camping, intention, etc.
Basically, anything shiny or necessary in my life that I was curious about, wanted to learn about; taking notes, and venturing down rabbit holes. Long before I was a news reporter and/or librarian, I loved research. That’s how I spend too much of my time: I research, and I know stuff. Most folks find it frustrating and/or tiring. But nevertheless, I have notebooks and notebooks full of research - some more than 30 years old.
(More than once, when teaching college freshmen, I was asked, “Ms. Minney? How do you know all that stuff?” Only one answer could explain. “I read, and I’m old.”)
And, now having gotten my groove as a tutor at Tutor.com, and opening registration for my most favorite writer's retreat concept, I've been digging in that file cabinet. I'm almost embarrassed by all the notebooks and file folders in there that I have never taken to the next level.
More than once, when teaching college freshmen, I was asked,
“Ms. Minney? How do you know all that stuff?”
Only one answer could explain. “I read, and I’m old.”
Seriously. It's ridiculous the knowledge and information gathered in the "back burner" cabinet. Notes and works from graduate school, undergrad, internships, and research relating to foresting, local herbs, gardening, marketing, cooperatives, magic tricks, herbal products, etc. Notes for how to drive the tractor, with directions for operating the dump truck on the flip side.
Composting, beekeeping, and a million recipes for an overabundance of eggs, squash, and zucchini. For career planning, writing business plans, scholarship essays, resumes, cover letters, and the nightmare that is SEO. Cutting hair, giving facials, pedicures, acupressure points. Notes from conferences, online courses, certificate training, educational projects, and career development mandates.
And none of that includes 120 issues of Two-Lane Livin' Magazine (stored in a separate file cabinet), with every issue full of practical and useful tips and treasures.
That file cabinet is basically my brain - handwritten, but faded, dusty, yellowed, and...
Well yeah, my brain. (LOL)
Two days ago, I found a lovely platform where I can easily, affordably, and feasibly create my own online school.
Wait, what?!
(How did I not know this sooner?! It's like the day I discovered Magic Erasers for my kitchen.)
I can finally, after 30 years, put that file cabinet online. My own SCHOOL!!!
Now I know, I know, I've been flitting from one thing to another my whole life. The variety of topics researched and experienced shows that clearly. And, I read. I read a LOT. And, I'm not prone to reading fiction, I save my fiction for video mediums. (But sometimes embrace historical fiction in print.) I've gotta learn with my entertainment. Reading fiction makes me feel guilty for wasting my time.
And, folks who know me know that I have been out of my true elemental function since going to grad school and returning to the workforce to pay that off. I've been flailing through the possibilities, a cobweb of opportunities and ideas with shimmering strands that stick to me. And since paying off my school loans and returning to freelance creative work, I’ve been in a spin of choices, research, experiments, and ideas.
I am, by definition, a Flibbertigibbet. A Middle English invention, a word that sounds like meaningless chatter, and it's still used fairly often in Yorkshire, England. Definition? A foolish, flighty person. I’m distracted and fascinated by too many different things. And then, at some point, it all gets stuffed into a file cabinet or drawer, and I move on.
(My mother has a house full of notebooks and research as well, but most of hers is focused on one topic/theme: The Tabernacle.)
I mean, just in the last year, I've researched acrylic painting, rock and glass tumbling, pop-up shops, a new tutoring platform (and its policies), the needs of lemon thyme, wandering rosemary, why my lilacs won't bloom. And then, also the instructions for a mini-chain saw, a battery-operated brad nailer, our smart refrigerator, our smart dishwasher, and our new hens.
(I’ve also transplanted garlic, tended flower and herb gardens, cleared the asparagus bed, wallpapered the bedroom, removed the living room carpet, purged my closet, re-organized and deep cleaned my kitchen, the shower room, the craft space, and the spare bedroom. Um, and have painted 34 paintings, made over 300 pin badges, and started an outdoor space for upcycling glass bottles, which mandated a relocation and re-organization of our camping gear, which hasn’t been used in 15 years.)
I likewise needed to research the new dietary needs for a husband with diverticulitis; nerves in the neck that when pinched, make your arms and hands go numb; and holistic treatments for skin conditions that make your dog itch like crazy.
And, I have kept tabs on other shiny and curious things, like a county election I can’t vote in, two local nonprofit organizations’ efforts, flood issues, and watershed behavior changes after 25 years of fill dirt being added to the flood plain from Burnsville to Parkersburg (and all along the Ohio).
A curious brain is like an insatiable child that as you age, converts into a sleek, black crow. As you mature, it becomes more distinguished and learns to fly. But, it still cannot resist shiny objects, and still squawks far too much.
But, an endeavor that upcycles an entire career and decades of sometimes pointless but often practical, interesting, and beneficial research?
Ooooo. Shiny.
And suddenly, I see dusty, faded, yellowed gems sparkle again, and that file cabinet has become a treasure chest. In two days, I’ve set up the website, developed my branding, and begun converting my critical essay from graduate school into a 6-part online course.
I have dozens of files I can convert to digital downloads, and nine files for additional, shorter courses. And, there’s also an option for coaching sessions, but right now I want to stick to the contents of those file cabinets.
A curious brain is like an insatiable child that as you age, converts into a sleek, black crow. As you mature, it becomes more distinguished and learns to fly.
But, it still cannot resist shiny objects, and still squawks far too much.
You’re here with me - when the idea of Two-Lane Learning Studio was born. The ultimate upcycling of an entire career and a lifetime of experience and research. It might be another flight of fancy, but it feels more like destiny to me.
