After over six months of not blogging (or writing, really), it feels like I'm writing in someone else's blog. I've always been one for fits and starts, but it's getting to the point where I no longer feel as though "writer" is a viable career option (as though it ever was).



I feel a commentary, though brief, on life over the past six months is a necessary thing.


First and foremost, it has come to my attention that, after three years of working directly- and with large groups of them- with children, that I do not, in fact, like them. I find myself longing for the academia that I once hated (pattern?). I've officially got my career goals down to two possibilities: translator (the loftier of the two goals) and archivist.


The mid-twenties is a really interesting time. I feel like I'm at once actually able to live my life while simultaneously thinking about my actions (past and present) in a way that I was never capable of before. This could either be wisdom, or the fact that I've slowed down enough to actually take stock of life while it's happening, rather than acting rashly and then looking back later.

Now that I've hit twenty-four, I'm also noticing something else about the mid-twenties. That is, I've finally come to terms with the fact that I will never be famous. I never really believed that I would become famous (I hate the spotlight, so why would I want to be in it all the time?), but there was always that faint possibility- the dream. Now, though, I've realized that I am not a genius, or a brilliant actor, or even a remotely good singer- and, happily, it's all for the better.


I am always lacking in a conclusion to my writing, and this is not an exception. While I feel that there's some really insightful note to finish on, I'm not quite there yet. Maybe I'll figure it out in my late-twenties.