The day I actually wrote a blog
Yes. I have done it. I’ve made the decision to write a blog. Be proud.
I sure am.
I wish I wrote blogs all the time-everyday.
In the beginning of the year I decided to write blogs more often… but even then I knew it was lie.
It’s not that I don’t want to write blogs, it’s that I have very little time. Homework, school, friends and, not to mention (despite the fact that I will given the chance), my very lovely/wonderful/best friend-in-the-whole-world-who-also-happens-to-be-my-boyfriend, take up the little time I have to spare at the end of the day. As well, Pinterest and staring at the ceiling have taken a lot of my time- even the time I don’t have to spare…
The thought of writing a blog gives me anxiety sometimes. I will call it ‘blogging induced anxiety disorder’, or BIAD. I feel I can make new disorders now because I am a psych student.
Of course, there is always something on my mind to share. However, instead of writing it down on the internet for the whole world to potentially see, I find myself telling people in person; whether it be an unsuspecting victim in the bathroom at the Library, or the cashier at Save-on-Foods, maybe even the Starbucks Barista. They know the intimate details of my life.
It’s not good.
Those people don’t necessarily need to know that I am so outraged at the fact that the place at the mall discontinued my former nose ring and now-because of my freak accident- I am stuck with a nose ring that is an odd color of gold and not my normal warm-golden hue I loved to much. But they do know. Because I told them. Instead of blogging to people who may or may not care but have that choice to decide if they wish to indulge in my mundane life… I have trapped unsuspecting victims into hearing of my tales . I won’t apologize for it though. It’s who I am. I over-share.
And now you, my faithful blog-following friends who have journeyed with me around the world and back. The ones who have been with me through the good, the bad,the terrible, and the hilarious moments that have formed my life into the one I have. Here is an update. I am 22 now. Everyday I have some sort of moment where I realize I am not 19 anymore and I have ridiculous responsibilities that force me to stay in one place. I can no longer wake up and decide “I’m going to travel for 6 months…”, now that thought is instantly interrupted by ‘Silly girl, traveling costs so much money and you can’t take that much time off school or you will never finish’.
Sad day.
I want to be a gypsy.
In the dream world I love to immerse my mind in, I live on a beach and have my own garden and eat fruit and vegetables all day. I am very tanned. My dream world allows me to go to Europe and Africa with just a bat of my eye and no money….
I am still learning that this world doesn’t exist.
What I am getting at is that I CANNOT stay in Red Deer for much longer without spreading my wings for a bit and seeing some of the world. I feel trapped and need to explore. Not a sit on the beach, eat/drink, all-inclusive kind of trip. I am talking about experiencing a culture so different from mine that I am left awe-struck at the beauty of this world. I know it’s out there… I just need to see it. To feel it. To taste it. To smell it and be overwhelmed by it.
I have lost my muchness and need to get it back …
My wanderlust is consuming me…
