Several things are happening here. We’ll ignore the sad bits, save them for later when the snow is so deep we can press our sighs together. Here are the pressing facts.
Two months ago, I turned twenty-six. 26! Internally, I made a weary sweep over my stock, my unimpressive life-inventory. Gingerly I stepped over the former frame of my adult self I had built so confidently in my teens. Bra size – definitely didn’t pan out… 26, already?
Thankfully, our stunning economy has allowed my underwhelming condition to pass somewhat unnoticed. I fit in in a pop-cultural sense. Think the adult children in every Judd Apatow movie. But admittedly, in a not-funny way, this isn’t a source of pride for me. And, not so secretly, every day until I become my most capable self is going to be judgement day (go ahead and say it in a deep, condemning voice).
When I was nineteen, I inscribed a growing list of self-improvement strategies into my diary. I titled it 30 Things To Do Before I Turn 30 and felt accomplished and alive and smug and clever. Meanwhile, I switched universities. I searched for my purpose, followed mirages of it. Meanwhile, I noticed more and more facebook profiles highlighting wedding dresses and baby cheeks. So, people my age know what mortgages are? I laughed incredulously to myself. They suckle babies? Meanwhile, my google searches became more random and desperate.
It’s very difficult to figure out what to do when the world unexpectedly reveals itself to be NOT your oyster. Also, Newsflash: I totally care what everyone thinks. Other Newsflash: this sort of poisonous thinking has proven crippling.
In an effort to do something, a few weeks ago I sat down and drew this:
Nothing happened. But the product of my sudden, random effort left a full feeling in me. Arts and crafts always equal good times, but the novelty of making it for no reason (or for myself)? It made me meditative and grateful. Providentially, that evening, I then stumbled across my old list of 30 things. Perusing it and laughing at my absurd ambitions, it suddenly struck me that I only have four years to accomplish them. I felt awful and excited all at once. And then came an even more foreign feeling – a prick, a thread of purpose seemed to sew a heart shape into my soul!
Of course, I have not languished in my perpetual inertia without learning something. I’m a little undisciplined, to put it mildly. And then there’s circumstance and all that sad stuff I was referring to, that may pump me full of valid excuses. Hence the next logical step: blogging! I’ve already informed a few of my b.f.f.’s of my latest endeavor, and they have my phone number and are allowed to shame me. So here is my do so solemnly swear.
I, elisa, will blog once a week. I will either take a stab at the 30 things list, or do something distinctly productive (preferably passion-related), and will faithfully record my proof here, right here. It’s perfect, fool-proof, because I love proving myself. You’ll see (rd: brace yourself for disappointment).
So, aloha for now. Hopefully you are rubbing your hands together, wild with anticipation for next week. Me too, friend. Mhmm.