I said it, being the brave soul I am. I don’t have a goal. Okay there are the little ten-year plans that include the likes of a car, stocks and maybe a pair of Jimmy Choo’s. But when these would happen and how are yet to be drafted out. Surprisingly enough, being the list person I am, there is no list for these things. I think I’m secretly glad there isn’t. I might wreck my brain trying to strikethrough it and it’s ironic coming to think of it given my savings currently being at an all time low.
The first ‘Goal’ related conversation began sometime this year, early this year me thinks. From parents to older friends and then the Dean fellow at university. They told me (and all those around us) on how important it was to have a goal in life, to know where you are going, where you want to be and who you want to be. Hmm. I have no answers to these questions, the same way in which I have no answers to what I am doing in life now.
Or maybe I do, but I find it more convenient to refrain from stating them because it would seem far fetched to most. Some teenage-ee angst kicking in there. It’s how I think it’s perfectly fine to call myself a writer, because that is what I do! Most of the time. Rather it comes down to that in the end and whatever that happens before that or in between is irrelevant, to me at least. Or, writing is the part about my work that I like doing best.
I dunno fellas. I think it’s fine to be all floaty at times. It helps and also it is convenient. I usually opt for the convenient option yes? If there are factors that could be eliminated and would assure a convenient flow of life with minor hikes I’m all for it.