Spilled Milk

This isn’t for you. This is for me.

Inspired by Mark Manson, I’ve challenged myself recently to try caring less about what people think. I won’t pretend that this is some new idea or that I’ve hit some Eureka! moment here. In my long and excruciating twenty four years of life I’ve found that the Eureka! moment just doesn’t exist. Well, maybe for science or industry, but not for life. I guess maybe it was silly of me to think that one day it would all just hit. One day, I thought. Still think, probably.

In fact, a good way to describe my current life is: waiting around for life to kick me in the teeth. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Stuck in the waiting place. The wanting place. “I want X but I’m waiting until I solve Y”. Such a damned sentence that has slowly become one of my most used. I tend to satisfy my needs, and don’t seem to care much about my wants. So here I sit, waiting for life to kick me in the teeth. Increase my list of needs, please!

I’m certainly aware that there is a lot of privilege seeded in this mindset. In truth, very little of my life has been a struggle. I’ve been “getting by” in all facets of life, thanks to privilege. So many hours of hard work and devotion skipped over – like hitting the Gumdrop Pass in a game of CandyLand and someone slipped a loaded die in my pocket. Of course, not everything is sunshine and rainbows or CandyLand. But it doesn’t rain often, and when it rains, it certainly hasn’t poured.

So why sit here, arms outstretched, waiting for the skies to close and the world to flood? There isn’t much of a reason aside from the simple truth that it’s easy. Really, really fucking easy. But I can do hard things. With all of this in mind and my miniature existential crisis seemingly hashed out, I’ve decided to put myself up to the following challenge: Write a blog every day. Doesn’t matter how long. Or about what. Just do it every day. For thirty days. If after thirty days, it isn’t right, then move on. But stay for thirty days. At least thirty days.

And if you think that this challenge isn’t hard enough, please remember: This isn’t for you. This is for me.