Before I begin, I'd like to note the change in title of my blog page. Previously, it had been known as "Devi's Daily Diatribes," but seeing as I'm quite whimsical and do things at my own pace and of my fancy, it wasn't long before I'd moved on to another project entirely. Given the sporadic nature the blog will be taking on from this point forward, I thought a differentiation was in order for this digital diary.
...Hmm... "Devi's Digital Diary..." is it too soon to rework the title again? I'll dwell on it for a while.
At any rate, for the most part I'll try to pen my thoughts as they strike throughout the day, so as to divulge them to the masses via virtual venting at a later time. This way, I'll still be fulfilling my desire to keep a diary AND actually keeping it relevant to the events that actually transpire as opposed to a rant about some random opinion that just happened to cross my mind. ...Not that any such entry falls into that category as of yet, but, had I actually adhered to the "daily" of previous suggestion, it would have been inevitable for such a post to appear. And I doubt anyone wants to hear my thoughts on why words are those words (i.e. who came up with the word "cloud" for a cloud?).
But I digress. Today, as has occurred quite often in recent times, I've been hit with the re-realization that my life is stagnant. I'm in a rut and there's nothing I can do about it but daydream of places worth visiting, things worth seeing, people worth meeting and time worth spending somewhere unreachable given my current circumstances. Is there such a thing as a quarter-life crisis?
As July quickly approaches I worry that, at almost 24 years old, I've never been outside the country (beyond my first year of birth, which I remember, but it is not memorable). I've never even seen the ocean. I've so many ambitions. And yes, I do know that complaining about it will accomplish nothing; However, it does merit noting that I've even ambitions at all. In this day and age people seem so content to just exist how they are and live day to day. Well, I don't want that existence.
I want to soar. I want to broaden my horizons so wide the universe itself will fear being consumed. I have all these wishes, and yet, no starting point from which to leap into the air. It's maddening. But at the same time, I appreciate that despite my fruitless efforts to fulfill these quests, I still have someplace to call home. I just resent that, at the moment, said home is more like a holding cell from which I dig an escape with the world's tiniest spoon, and that spoon is made of wood which keeps breaking; So, I have to carve a new one, in turn shrinking that spoon. And soon, I will be all out of spoon.
It's the possibility of that impending spoon doom that worries me the most. What if I miss my chance to jump? Will I, like a timid skydiver, have to wait for the next cycle around before my chance at a new one? What if there isn't one, and I'm doomed to live the rest of my life in the same place doing the same thing? Many people have taken to addressing this issue by having a child. No thanks.
For now, it's all I can do to keep digging. And if my spoon breaks, well, I'll just have to claw my way out.