The (Rude) Awakening

And within an hour of our grand exit from Scentura, SHJ and I gazed at wildfires in the hills from the fifth floor office of my accountant, Jack L’Enfant. I first met Mr. L’Enfant nine years ago, as I started my first legally incorporated business, and he’s stuck with me ever since: through buying houses, renovating them, renting them out, returning to them, starting businesses, closing them, working six figure jobs, quitting them, working $10 an hour jobs, getting fired from them, moving to other countries and states. When somebody does your taxes for nine years, you do not have much to hide from them. I consider Mr. L’Enfant a mentor, and someone who has always believed in me, despite the fact that many of my plans fall into the “ill-conceived” category. At the same time, many of my results fall into the “goddamn, I can’t believe she did it” category, and Mr. L’Enfant has occupied ringside seats for those spectacles as well.

He wanted to know what brought me back to Playa Larga, and I told him of the real estate woes I now experience, and of the real estate and small business tragedies I witness on a daily basis. We lamented the fact that crooked banks got tarp money, while small businesses grovel and beg for a $35,000 loans, and with not enough sales, have no choice to lay people off, and add to the unemployment problem. I knew from working on a federal government contract why this occurred: it all comes down to who has the most powerful friends on the Hill.

He said he knew of a number of small businesses that needed money, but did not have time or skills to write plans to get them, and that maybe I should get into that. We talked about the hotness of the geo-thermal and sustainable energy space, despite the rest of the economy. The thought of writing business plans had crossed my mind; I had won a fairly substantial prize for writing one less than a year ago. I know how to do research and how to write, but I feel like a hypocrite giving out (or selling) business advice.

“This physician needs to heal herself,” I said. “This cobbler needs to put some shoes on her feet.”

“She will,” he smiled.

My personal financial statement does not show much nowadays, but my personal experience statement sure does. I give thanks for all the richness that has come into my life in the form of the people I’ve met and the experiences I’ve had. I often wonder aloud if my life would be more stable if I had just not opened any businesses or moved, if I just continued working a meaningless job, and stayed in a dead relationship.

All I know is that I was not happy in that steady state, and while my impulsive, hard headed moves bring in their share of sorrow, they never bore me. I give thanks for all people, those who make me laugh, and those who make me cry, that come into my life, and the things I learn from each of them. I reckon even March has barged unladylike into my life for a purpose: probably so I can practice meeting a bullying woman head-on, and remain impervious to her.

I especially give thanks for all of the people who continue to believe in me during the times I find it hard to believe in myself, and inspire me to keep going.