I am 27 years old. I know that that is young. Late 20’s – Pssh. I have PLENTY of time left to do all of the things I want to do in life. I agree.
I also feel time moving faster than ever. Seriously – it was just Thanksgiving yesterday. Wasn’t it?
I seen many online posts, pictures, blogs, etc. about bucket lists lately.
A movie titled “Bucket List” was released. (Never saw this; any good?)
People have their own sites, blogs, etc. with bucket lists on them. (Something I plan on doing – get my braces off that is.)
There is an official website: http://www.bucketlist.net. (Here is mine: http://www.bucketlist.net/lists/.)
So I made a bucket list. I have two things on it. I only added two things. I could not think of anything more that I REALLY wanted to do in life so badly that I needed to add it to a list as a way of measuring my progress. It made me think. “What do I plan on doing with the rest of my life? I am already 27!”
Then, I realized that I have already done so many things on what I will call my mental bucket list. A list I did not even realize I had, until I did a bit of looking into bucket lists themselves for this very post.
I got braces. I had a child before I turned 30. I have loved deeply. I have loved selflessly. I finished college AND got a job in my field of study. I created this blog.
I might just make a bucket list of all of the things I’ve already done. It will be a reminder while that having something worth working toward is wonderful, it is equally wonderful to remember and be proud of the things already done in this life.
I have specific ideals about love, and how it is supposed to be. I should know better. I work in family law. Sometimes my own life is a poster child for family law cases. I know that love takes work. But a part of me feels it should be like this:
Madly passionate. Extraordinary. NOT mediocre. Because it is LOVE.
And I think, because of this expectation, I get disappointed. And somehow I keep hoping and trying. Which is okay with me – because how can I find something of that quality, that caliber, without trying.
But some days, I feel like this:
Today is one of those days.
Second post. I am going to assume it is going well so far. So you say, “Assume away.” And I am.
I also want to paint. I also feel like there is a passion inside of me to paint. I also sure that you’ve heard that from many a painter. I am also not a painter. I just want to be.
I do have paintings at home that I like to consider “not bad”. Mostly they consist of blended colors which turn into rainbows or sunsets. Like a pre-teen expression of angst confused with joy.
I cannot paint on the computer. I could try, but it looks like this when I do:
I am really okay with not being a painter. I just want to create something beautiful – aside from the above-pictured “painting”.
Also, I like hot cocoa.
First post. I am nervous. Blogging is popular, and it seems I felt the need to jump on the bandwagon.
I want to write. I feel sometimes that there is this passion to write inside of me. I’m sure you’ve heard that before from many a writer. I am not a writer. I just want to be.
It is uncharacteristic of me to actually commence writing online when my yearning to be able to write involves this deep-rooted need to feel a pen in my hand, hear the scratch of it as I scribble on the paper on the table, see my handwriting fill the page.
It’s not really like that. It goes something like this: I sit down with a pen, with paper. I then commence staring at the paper for long periods. Common for would-be someday writers, I assume. Then I get annoyed with myself. I think, “Oh for the love of ****, this is not doing any good. At least DOODLE on the page!” And I do.
At the end of my “writing session”, I am left with a lined piece of paper filled with doodles. And not even GOOD doodles. I don’t even know how to doodle well. My doodles consist of squares retraced multiple times, circles shaded in randomly, and my own name written in every possible variation of my own handwriting that I can come up with.
That will make quite a book someday.