I have blogged for thirty days. They were not consecutive all the time since life has a way of getting in the way and I discovered Downton Abbey and recipes I needed to try. But the last thirty days have been good ones. I discovered I’m not the writer I thought I was, and mostly, I’ve discovered that the only way to have more write about is to lead a more interesting life. The only times I rushed home to open up a new blog is when I did something interesting with my day, which sadly was not every day or even more than a few days a week.
I came across an interesting movement called Hopeprint after following a Twitter picture of a friend and read all about an organization in Syracuse dedicated to helping refugees transition. I wondered what it would be like to give time and energy to something like this. I thought “what if I tutored here and worked at Starbucks” rather than seek with all of my might a teaching job that never seems to come my way no matter how hard I try.
I have in the last few months developed an obsession with making things to eat. I went to a Super Bowl party this past Sunday simply for the excuse to make snack food for friends. I look forward to every small group with great anticipation wanting to make a dish to pass. When my boyfriend (now fiance) visits, I delight in putting together meals for the weekend. I wonder if perhaps cooking will not be so exciting when I have to do it every day for a family, and truthfully I’m not sure, but I think I will like it still. Then again, I thought I would like doing this blog.
In the end, I believe that self-discovery is important, and everyone has a different way of going about it. One thing is clear though, a boring life makes for boring writing. That being said, I’ll stop torturing you all.