Requiem for My Former Self

I promise my blog will not consistent of sappy, introspective posts dedicated to how I will change my life. But I seem to be on a roll lately.

I have been in a quest of self-improvement these last few months, so I do not want this to sound as if it is my new year's resolution list; the new year happens to fall tomorrow in the midst of my changes.

I feel as if I've regressed in some ways as a person, back to someone I was before the learning and the experience. I feel a sense of loss when I consider who I am, knowing I used to be better. Regression makes me sad.

I miss the confident person I used to be. I miss the person who could laugh at her mistakes, and smile midst the falling and the getting back up.

I miss my conversation style that wasn't contrived or complaining.

I miss not being afraid of people; I miss taking risks.

The point of this selfish entry is to make a statement: I'm ready to change. I already am changing.

Unfinished Business

I've been working on my apartment for about four months now. I've agonized over furniture choices, daily platewear, furniture arrangements, and so many other details. I've bought art on ebay and somehow managed without trying to have three matching paintings from three separate artists. Within all these details, however, I still find myself undone. The walls in my bedroom are empty and vacant. I often feel that I am somehow neglecting something important by never finishing my first real home; that I was merely lazy. I know that I've put in the work, though. I know it's not the procrastination of my past. But looking at them just now I realized there is a delicious choice in doing all these things. That even though my walls are blank, I can already see what will fill them. And for me, the endless projects are part of what drive my life, along with a endless complex, complicated list of activities and action and thoughts and people.

Perhaps it's not a profound idea. But I love my empty walls. I love that I still have something to fill.