New year, new me... right? I'm closing in on thirty-one, but I'm feeling so lost in many aspects of my life. Or, at least it feels that way... in which case, it must be real, no?
I recently read an article that described one's thirties as a second adolescence, where you're facing a dichotomy of youth and age. Youth is wild and impulsive, wondering whether its found its true calling, whether its pursuits mean enough. Age is responsible and cautious, yearning for stability and wary of failure.
I am definitely going through these kinds of feelings at this time. I feel so content in myself and in my life in so many way, but I wonder... I wonder a lot.
Over the past year, I reflected a lot on what makes me feel fulfilled, what brings me joy, and started to revisit those hobbies. I bought a real-deal camera and made spaces where I felt comfortable sharing my photos.
What I'd like to try over this year is to flex my writerly muscles. I made a couple feeble attempts at this last year, but I didn't have a main goal in mind and I lost my way. Clear intentions. The most certain pathway to failure is a lack of clear intentions, or so I've been told.