After graduating with a degree in magazine journalism when the journalism industry (hell, really every industry) was in such a state of decline, reaching my 4-year anniversary with my company became a huge source of pride.
I am grateful for these things that give me a routine to fall back to. I just don't want them to become all I am.
A while ago, when I was about 25, I’d always ask a friend of mine how his day was. He is about eight years older than me, and he’d always answer with “Same old, same old.” This irritated me to no end. I wanted details, no matter how mundane.
And now some days I find myself doing the same thing.
People: “What’s new?”
Me: “You know, same old.” Same job, same apartment, same dog, [mostly] same friends. Sure, I’ve picked up new hobbies here and there, and I’ve visited new places. Our offices moved, and hey, that’s new, right?
I read this passage the other day.
More times than not, I let the comfort of routine seep into my bones. When really, my heart cries for adventure. I’m happiest when, like this weekend, I’m hopping aboard a train for a day trip. Or when I’m waking up in a new city. Or biking down a new street. Meeting new people. Trying new food. Learning new things. You get the point.
Sure, I like to go home to my same apartment and same dog and wake up the next day and go to my same job.
May I always remember to cling to some of the adventurous spirit I had as a kid. The one full of hope, imagination and a feeling that the world would catch me. May I never become the adult content to walk the same path over and over again. Let’s creep beneath the rhododendrons. Or maybe the ranunculus, in my case. They’re my favorite, after all.