One of the things I find most interesting about blogging is that it allows me to sit back and see the threads of the story of my life, and see how things weave in and out, grow, end and begin. I never know what or where a beginning will be, how the story will unfold, what it will turn into. Going back and reading my blog from the start is an interesting experience, because at first, I didn’t have a feel for the threads, I didn’t know what would grow and what would fail, and there are a fair few start and stops, like Oliver, the tall red head I had high hope for, but who I never saw after our first date, or even Nathan, who I see as often as I can, but whom I rarely write about.

The best example is Sebastian and I - our sexual relationship turned into quite a fun, sexy, interesting story. There is a definite beginning, growth, change, learning, and what I’m assuming is a definite end, (even if that jerk does still have my copy of “The Joy of Lex” and “Brokeback Mountain. Oh, I’ll get them back. I never let a book slip away, not since I lent out my first copy of “The 48 Law of Power”)

This is something I always sort of noticed. I often lay back and think about the paths, threads and stories that make up my life.

Paths are always the most fascinating, in my opinion. They lead to ‘what ifs?’, which are also fun. For example - what if I never moved in with Daniel and Thing 1? I would have never met Lily, never have met Jefferson or gone to his parties, never started blogging, never met Nix…my life may have gone a completely different way, and I’ll never know how it might have gone.

Another path I often think about has nothing to do with sex. My grandparents owned a bakery.  It was always sort of assumed that it would stay in the family, that someone would take it over. But my mother had a job and kids and my dad had no interest, and my uncle didn’t want to do it either, so when my grandparents finally wanted to retire, they sold the bakery.  And sometimes, I wonder what would have happened if they waited a few more years. I probably would have gone to school for business, instead of mortuary science, and taken over the bakery myself, because I thought it ought to stay in the family. My grandparents owned that bakery most of their lives, and before them, my grandfather’s father owned a bakery.

What if? What if I did run the bakery? Where would I be now? Definitely not here! I’d be working 12 hours days making cakes and cookies and deliciousness. My little sister would probably work with me on weekends and in the summers.  I’d be a hell of a lot more of a grown up, but I wouldn’t know anyone that I do now.

I wonder, what if I went and got my Bachelor’s degree right after I got my Associates? What if I had kept on with school? Where would I be then?  What if my brain were normal, and I wasn’t depressed as a kid?

Or little things. What if I hadn’t read “Forbidden Flowers” when I was 12? What if I had never heard of Anne Rice? What if I hadn’t become a goth kid? What if I hadn’t heard that song or read that book that shaped my life in a way I didn’t know? What if I was able to pronouce Maria’s last name properly when I was 7? Would I have talked to her, and would we have become best friends?

What if I never dated Jordin? Would I have met Elizabeth?

Sometimes, it drives me crazy to think of all this, but what can you do? Asking what if is a part of human nature.