Sometimes I think my writing would be much more interesting if I were still a wandering soul.
I used to decry that as a confused early twenty-something my stresses prevented me from thinking creatively. Between the ages of 20 and 25 that I lived in Los Angeles, I did little to release my artistic passions. I was drowning in my self-made cocktail of existentialism and narcissism. Sick of hearing myself talk about my petty, but nonetheless troubling issues caused me to move to another city to “find myself”.
Which I did.
Now I’m boring.
I work from home, forget to change out of my pajamas and garden poorly.
I wouldn’t say that “I’ve figured it all out” though. Who ever does? In many ways, we’re ambling spirtis our entire lives; always searching, always learning and always changing.
However, I’m a far cry from the girl I was five years ago.
The girl at 23 didn’t know what she wanted in a career or in love. She thought she always knew herself, but for the first time (more…)