So, I like Alex. Really, I do. He's smart, artist, and really good at computers without being all geek about it. He's also got his life together (as a theatre professional, photographer, and long-term relationship guy).
So, I read his post with a sort of fear and dread. Yes, all justified. Apparently Alex wants to know where I think I'll be in ten years. Thanks, man. Here we go.
I don't have a clue. See, in ten years I'll be 33. Thirty-three! I have a hard time thinking past the summer. Unlike many intelligent blogger friends I don't have a career. I don't have an education, a kid or even a relationship (serious or otherwise).
All I do have is a vast array of experiences, a love of written words, a passion for challenges and a wanderlust.
I also have
Last year I returned home from traveling around the world, failing to bond with my sister, and finally managing to heal from one heck of a boyfriend. What I didn't realize was that this definite conquering of a life-time goal would leave me in such a predicament. Do I want to settle down, farm, travel more, go to school? I couldn't and can't decide. I'm in the same place now, a few experiences richer and a year older. The only thing I know is that sitting stagnant is hard on me. Change is a necessity. So, where ten years will take me I really can't say.
I could be married to a farm boy with a baby on my hip. I could be living in an seventh story apartment rambling through assignments that are making me hate a topic I love. Or I could be waitressing with a drive to see a new place and meet new people.
Know what? I like it that way. Maybe it'll hurt me in the end, but that thought of having a pretty good idea of ten years down the road kinda stresses me out.