I just finished telling my mom the new plan, informally known as Plan #4308. Coffee shop and plant store. Volunteer as a foster advisor with CASA. Work on a blog. Does anybody read blogs anymore? No, mom, they don’t.
My twenties feel like a million pathways reaching in all different directions. On one pathway, I own and operate an English school in Colombia, advocating for high-quality education in non-OECD countries and practicing my Spanish. On another, I’m a screenwriter, drawing on Portlandia & Broad City to inspire perfectly nonsensical sketch comedy or making Rick & Morty funny again. Still on another, I’m off the grid, an artist selling funky pottery or organizing ecstatic dance ceremonies on a hilltop in Nicaragua.
I am fairly certain that all these pathways would fulfill me. I’m a naturally happy person and tend to be happy wherever I am. I also have the faith that my life is going to turn out exactly how it should and that no matter which pathway I end up going down, I will be content. And yet, I feel a little bit like Rebecca Black, paralyzed by the commitment required by making a decision. Front seat…Back seat…Which seat should I take? How do I decide which seat to take? Who the fuck is driving this VEHICLE?
I’m gonna fucking drive it. I’m getting in the front seat and I’m gassing it down the road that makes my heart sing, even if nobody else can hear the music. I’m off-roading this bitch and going wherever I want – into orchards and corn fields and maybe even a Denny’s. I’m obeying no traffic laws and letting in whoever sticks out their thumb. I want to do this life my own way. It’s my birth right.
Maybe I’ll regret it. Maybe it’ll be like: I shouldn’t have gone so fast and used up all my gas money cuz now I’m stranded in the middle of nowhere with a fox in my car and a bunch of Corn Nuts all over the floor. Maybe I’ll wish I made sacrifices early on so that I would have security, stability and freedom to do what I wanted in the future. Maybe I’ll make it to my destination and realize it wasn’t as beautiful as I had anticipated.
I literally don’t know. Everything feels like a big question mark. Is it unprecedented times? Is it being in your twenties? Who knows. All I know is, since everything seems like it’s on the brink of blowing up anyway, why not enjoy the ride? I’m not making decisions on account of an uncertain future, baby, I’m living in the now.
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