Well, right now, I'm eating pineapples and drinking strawberry kombucha. I'm eating a lot. I'm exercising. Bikram, Anti-gravity, vinyasa yoga and Pilates. It exhausts me. Tired, not from being out until 5 A.M. I'm being somewhat responsible with my body, and my feelings for that matter. I'm being a good person. At least I'm trying to.
My mother called it my mask, this part of my face that is darker than the rest of it. There's not a shade of foundation that could make it look even or concealed so I don't bother. I've never bothered. The last time I wore sandals, comfortably, in public was roughly 16 years ago. Maybe this will be my year. It may be time to get all, "this is my body. If you think it's ugly, don't look at it." Or maybe I'll just keep on with those huarache sandals, but at least I'm thinking about other possibilities. For the first time in a long time, my life feels like it's happening right now. Full of options and decisions I don't have to make, yet, because I'm 26 and I don't completely give a shit about anything and I'm not apologizing for it.
But that's all of us right? This here generation of student loan-lackies and DIY-entrprenuers. Do I finally just fit in?
My sister asked me a few weeks ago just how long I planned on working at the restaurant in which I'm employed, which I knew was her round-about way of leading into, "So what do you want to do with your life?" It's unfortunate the way people are expected to know and plan everything in their journey. I don't know, you guys. I have a vague vision of children, a home, an office and phone calls. Letters to people I miss. Vacations to places I've never been. Being in love and consolation during multiple phases of mourning. Death.
What am I going to do with my life? I don't know, but maybe I'll buy some sandals, and wear them in public and make you all look at my ugly toes and giggle at the past that lingers there.