It’s my birthday today. I’m now 23 years old. This has been a good, full year, and I wanted to take a hot sec this autumn to think about the year to come.
I’ve had two different jobs over the last year, both of them challenging and fulfilling. I’m still figuring out what direction I want to head when I graduate from university, but I’m (slowly) recognizing that I don’t have to choose a longterm path. In fact, I shouldn’t. People don’t have 30-year careers nowadays, and I take comfort in the fact that I can continue untangling this ball of yarn called life.
Instead of stressin’, I’m just bustling about enjoying autumn. It’s truly my favourite time of year — and not just because of my birthday. It becomes increasingly appropriate to indulge in my addiction to coffee and tea, slamming back giant mugs while I curl up on my sofa. My days, when I’m not at work or school, are filled with podcasts. (Right now, my favourites are 2 Dope Queens, Radiolab and its spinoff More Perfect, On the Media, She Built That, and My Favorite Murder.)
I have a lot of big, hairy audacious goals (BHAGs). I want to work to live (and not live to work), but still enjoy what I do. I want to travel. I want to manage to keep plants alive. I want to do rad things, like take up roller derby or boxing. I want to write, even if it’s little bits and pieces that are just on this blog, for my audience of Russian spambots. I want more experiences and not things, more reasons to celebrate.
I’m anxious about the uncertainty of, you know, life. But I’m excited to welcome the year to come, whether milestones or seemingly minor moments. This year, this autumn, have been good to me, and I’m certain the next year will only get better.