I'm feeling just rustic and worn tonight. I'm not old by standards of time at all, but I regret that I said as a teenager in my boyfriend's oversized Batman sweatshirt and these pigtail ears into which I switched up my hair everyday that I wanted to "always look back and shun the concept of any regret - as I believe that every circumstance - small, colossal, painful, confusing, joyful - was preordained by God to send us wherever we are supposed to travel next - so why does regret need to exist?" I still have faith in the latter, but for the former...honestly, anyone who's
old young enough to have found that ONE gray hair that sends you spinning into the matrix of first discovering how quickly time disappears understands that regret comes trotting along as naturally as that gray strand in the first place.
I know you see your bloggers taking breaks and you think they're just as busy as you are, but really, the truth stands to assert that they're actually just as flustered as you are: car payments, life-changing decisions, doctor visits, student loan woes, family and all. I would hope that most of you don't function as glassy-eyed as I do, but for me, the time I took was to help me begin to think. And Thinking - the fraternal twin of Worry - I have come to do more than other task I assign myself - and though I've accumulated the "sorry, I'll be there in ten" texts and late phone bills to prove my addiction, I can't shake the habit.
I'm come to a fork. This essay has a point, even if I'm lost as to what it is yet. I am not afraid to get old - as yesterday at the Phoenix Art Museum Advanced Style founder Ari Seth Cohen and delightful, 60-something muse Debra Rapoport only let me understand about myself again (read: I've always felt so old and and I can't wait to be so) - but that I wish terribly deeply that I had done more for my dreams and my health as a growing girl.
I wish I had spent less time shopping, staring at a computer, thinking about an ex-boyfriend (for what?), driving and worrying. My time now is consumed with fretting about what I want to do and how I'm going to save money to do what I want to do - but like so many of us, I first am aware that this is taking that precious, precious time away from the tasks I have been given to do right.now.
So this is an apology.
To everyone I am letting down by giving them only a small percentage of myself - to the tasks that I do everyday that are less-than-satisfactory and embarrassingly half-assed - to the loved ones who miss me:
I am sorry. I'm 24 and I don't know where I want to go, but that is a selfish excuse as to the time I've taken away from you. I pray to better at these things everyday and if I can't be, I pray that I and you can accept flaws like these, and forgive them when they happen.
I don't vow to be a better blogger. I vow to be more real. More understanding. I vow to reach out to you. I vow to just be a writer, which is why I ever blogged in the first place. I vow to give other artists support and time, just to make them - and you and myself - smile.