I haven't written since June. It seems longer. I have no particularly interesting thoughts tonight, just a desire to type. I've been journaling for a little over a month now, but I just do not enjoy writing by hand. My pen cannot keep up with my thoughts.
I read an article today about young adults in the 21st century. According to this article, we're creating a second adolescence of sorts. They named it "emerging adulthood." More and more people find themselves not engaging in "adult-like" behavior until ages 26 or later. This is so bizarre to me - but it shouldn't be. I fall into this category perfectly. It's just so surreal to think that human beings are overwhelmed with so much information that we can't find ourselves until our bodies pass their peak. We literally pass our best physical years while our minds struggle to catch up. It's wonderful and scary to live during this time. We're treading on entirely new ground here as human beings.
I don't think a year of my life has passed where I don't feel a tremendous amount of change and growth. It has only been recently that I have really comprehended how many mistakes I make over the course of a year. But another part of this realization is the hope that with every mistake comes a chance to learn. I was reminded of that again today by a friend of mine who encouraged me to not expect unrealistic things from myself. Don't expect perfection. Ok. I can do that. Maybe. I suppose I'm enamored with the idea of perfection. No, that's not it. I'm enamored with the idea of completeness. I want everything I do to be done with intense willpower. I want to be absorbed into my work. But when you put your heart and soul into a piece of work and it fails, you're left with your heart open and vulnerable. How do you balance a healthy view of failure with a hopeful spirit?
I'm willing to try and that's all I know. That's enough for now.
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