Write Away

I want to start writing again.

Not blogging. That's different. I like this, though. I like publishing posts and not constantly checking back to see if anyone had commented or liked it. That was stressful, and it wasn't me. But I like randomly sitting down, hashing out some feels, and hitting publish. I know next to no one is reading it, and that's fine. I almost like it that way.

But back to writing. I need to start again. There was a time that I used to be almost decent. I was an English major in college, and took a couple of Creative Writing classes. Those were always my favorite. I'm not a great test taker, so sometimes school was a bit difficult for me. But I could always write.

In recent years, I've gotten away from it. My muse kept drifting off to places where I couldn't quite reach it. Every time I sat down to write, I just kept staring at a blank page. I had the most horrendous case of writer's block imaginable. It's so frustrating not being able to do something you love.

I always wanted a career in writing. The end goal has always been to have a published novel, but over the years I thought I might want to work in publishing. But then that never happened. I ended up in industry after industry, each of which further and further away from everything I thought I ever wanted. I took jobs just to have a job. I had bills to pay. If I wanted to move out, I needed rent money. I had things I wanted to buy and places I wanted to go. Turned out that chasing my dream wasn't very profitable. I've never had a career, just jobs. Most of which, jobs I couldn't stand.

But I've always been a bit of a dreamer. In school, people would say I had my head in the clouds. It wasn't ever meant as as compliment, but I still took it that way. The dreamers of the world are the people that make life so colorful. There's nothing wrong with dreams. Sometimes dreams are the only things that keep people going. So since I've always been a bit of a dreamer, I've never been able to forget writing. It's always in the back of my mind. Little stories come alive in my head, and I feel the urge to get them down so I don't forget them. Usually at really inopportune moments like in the middle of a meeting or at 3AM.

So I've decided I'm going to make the conscious effort to write more because if I stop writing altogether then I'm just giving up on a dream, and then I will have no one to blame but myself for never making it happen. And how bad would that suck to know that you possibly could have made it, but you didn't because you just called it quits.

I'm thinking it would suck pretty badly.

My Slow Paced Journey to Adulthood

Do you remember thinking when you were little that people in their mid 20's were real grown ups?

LOL. Stop it. I can't believe I ever thought that. I honestly thought I would be married by now with kids. I thought 28 was OLD. Gah, so naive.

I mean, I'm sure there are some people in their mid 20's that really have their shit together. They have the good jobs, the stable relationships, the nice homes. They just might have it all. And good for them!

But me? Ehhh...not so much. Let's see, I've been ghosted in my past two relationships, I just started a new job in a new field a month ago because my previous job got eliminated out of the blue (thanks a lot Belk Corporate #hateyourguts), and I'm currently sitting on my couch after watching Game of Thrones for the past 4 hours worrying that I might have contracted some 17th century disease from my roommate since my throat is feeling a little funny.

(Clarification: My roommate went to Cuba last weekend and she came back with a touch of E. Coli.) 

So I guess it's safe to say I don't completely have my shit together. But it could be worse, I guess. I could still be jobless. I could still be with a guy who never once complimented me in all the months we were together. My internet could have been spotty today hindering my binge fest of a night. I could have E. Coli...

Yes, life could definitely be worse.

As of now, as a 26 year old, I feel like I'm maybe just a little over half way to adulthood. Like, I'm not a complete lost cause, but I still don't really understand how health insurance works nor do I separate my laundry into multiple loads. And that's okay, I think. I have time. Really, all I have is time. Everyone talks about how short life is, but it's literally the longest thing you do. So don't stress.

I firmly believe that everyone moves at their own pace, and I've always been a bit of a late bloomer myself. I can't be forced or rushed into making things happen. For instance, when I was younger I didn't feel the need to rush and get my license like everyone else. I just didn't really care about it. My dad taught me how to drive his stick shift car when I was 12 years old down some old country roads. But I didn't have a car, and my parents told me they weren't helping me get a car, so I just wasn't overly concerned with getting my license. However, one day my mom decided for me that I was going to go to the DMV and take my driving test. I hadn't practiced at all, but she told me I was going that day, so I went.

Needless to say, I failed. I failed miserably. As in only made it through half the test before the instructor told me to drive back to the DMV and wait another 2 weeks to try again. They only tell that to the really pathetic drivers, so if I didn't feel sad and miserable before, I definitely did after that. I cried the whole way home. Not only because I felt like a total loser, but because I knew I wasn't ready or prepared. And I hate that feeling.

So moral of the story, do life at your own pace. Just because your old sorority sister is married with 2 kids and the perfect cookie cutter life that she posts all over instagram, doesn't mean that life is for you or that you'll never get that life. It just means you're not ready yet, and that's okay.

And I finally did get my license by the way, and now I parallel park like a damn champ.