I make poor choices.
This has been established.
Not usually by me. Often other people like to tell me.
I get asked “why?” in disbelief on an almost daily basis. “Why would you do that?”
I don’t know.
Apparently my natural first response to most things is the equivelent of milking a poodle to other people. “Seriously, why would you do that?”
Strangely enough I’m not inclined to believe that I do actually make “bad choices.” I suppose they’re not really well thought out. It’s like the way I cook. I can’t follow a recipe, I NEED to screw it up. I need to put a little more and than a little less of something, so I’ll be surprised. Otherwise, what’s the point?
I think that surprise is one of the hardest yet most enjoyable aspects of being in one’s twenties. You are still discovering who you are, what your boundaries are, and what you are capable of. It is an age of constant analysis, loneliness, and success. And it is super scary.
We are straddling the line between childhood and adulthood and characteristics of both realms still rule our lives. Take today for example; I bought a pretty new seafoam green hobo bag from Urban Outfitters and I was so excited. An hour after that, I started worrying about my checking account balance and what bills needed to be paid and about my job and that ultimately led me to start thinking about my life’s purpose. See that – two completely different tangents connected together by a mind that is on the cusp of something.
Your twenties are an odyssey. You are trekking towards the foreign land of responsibility and adulthood; the land where pretty seafoam green hobo bags do not exist and the PECO bill does.