This is very much an e-diary entry from a sterile shoe store on the verge of closing down. A motionless A2 Emily Ratajkowski will be staring me down for the next 8 hours, I will probably buy an overpriced Poke bowl for lunch and feel like a boss bitch, and I am planning to take a highly professional self-timer photo for my CV behind this faux marble counter. Today was meant to be a (paid) administration day - full of catching up on flash cards and life administration. The constant flash cards and life administration.
Instead here I am, planning to write down my thoughts and goals for the moment. I guess that is a form of life administration in a way - to sit back and think about ways to improve. For the past few years, I've rendered self-improvement unnecessary. It's stressful and nothing matters anyway, right? You may as well have fun. It was either that or that in my perpetual state of go-go-go, I never had time to stop and think about self-improving; or perhaps the coronavirus sucked all motivation out of me, and many others. The monotony of ground-hog day can't have been productive for the evolving psyche. However, on the topic of nihilism, I should take a page out of Mark Manson's The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck *but giving a f*ck about the things you choose to matter*, or Evelyn Wang's optimistic approach from Everything Everywhere All At Once, and decide to make certain aspects of life important, to actually have some goals.
I wonder at what point I stopped thinking I was special, and whether this was a positive or negative change of mind. I wonder at what point I felt I was floating, devoid of personality, pushed around into whatever situation I happened upon, as my routines devolved month by month into a blur of inconsistency. I wonder when I started calling myself a "random girl" instead of just using my name. If my 16 year old self saw me now, she'd think it was all exciting. She'd think this was what living is - the disconnect, the randomness of the human condition. I don't think she'd understand that spreading yourself thin like marmalade on toast means that you do not know who you are. You are defined by nothing.
In the past few months I've been told by superiors and new friends that I am too impatient and hasty. I do before I think, and then I second-guess myself. I am full of second-guesses. In this world the multitude of choices is deafening. An undefined person is unsure whether they are doing everything wrong, while also assuming that everyone is in the same boat, doing everything wrong or right or averagely too. Observing the 20-something-year-olds around me, I feel we are all floundering and inconsistent. Even those who are certain, who think they know best, find themselves surprised the next day. It's anxiety-driving, and makes commitment to anything frightening.
So I guess if I were to make some definitive goals, that are really portions of one big goal, they would be to:
- Slow down and take things step by step. There's a process to everything.
- Be unafraid to commit to what I decide to do, and then do it properly.
- Be confident in who I think I am. I can always change my mind later.
- Think before I speak, and say things with more conviction. Vagueness is not attractive.
Love,
M
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