This morning I found myself contemplating whether it was frowned-upon to use crowdfunding to have a baby (purchase a house, set-up a ‘life ready for a baby’, pay for a sperm donor/fertility treatment, that sort of thing - not actually the purchasing of a baby). Once I had established that this probably wasn’t the best of ideas, morally or ethically, I have ever had (there is steep competition), obviously I decided that I need to come up with a life-changing idea which I could crowdfund and, consequently, make my fortune from - thus enabling the house, baby, etc.
Unfortunately such an idea has yet to emerge and I now feel completely un-skilled. I mean, literally, I have not a single skill which I can apply and grow into an idea. Sure, I run my own business and we’re making some money, so there must be some skills hidden deep inside me, but I’m at a loss to locate said skills.
January is all about new ideas, changes, diets, new leases on life, skull-cracking depression when you realise life is completely not how you planned it. Before you even have time to breathe, you’re in the last six months of your thirties, living back at home with your parents, realising you never had the body you wanted in your twenties (although having lost 5 pounds on your new sensible ‘grown-up’ diet, which is both realistic and doesn’t involve cutting out any major food groups/ribs) and your biological clock is well and truly ticking. Loudly. I’m reading Alexandra Shulman’s diary of Vogue’s centenary year and, while 40% of the time I’m not sure exactly who or what she’s talking about, the idea of an outlet for my mind seemed like a good idea. I’m pretty sure nobody will even read this, but the anonymity of sharing my thoughts and feelings in this fashion seemed like it could help - it’s a step-away from talking to yourself at least.