John Mayer was thinking about me when he wrote, “It might be a quarter-life crisis or just the stirring in my soul.”
See. That’s gross. I’m quoting John Mayer. MUST be a quarter-life crisis.
I’m being semi-overly-dramatic.
Things have been… funky. I feel funk-y.
I’m not going to break it all down. Quite frankly, I’m straight-up only writing this blog for me. It’s like that half-finished meditation journal on my nightstand. Or when I make a batch of chocolate chip cookies and then proceed to eat them all (Not like, all in one sitting. Over the course of a few days, like a sorta-normal person). I don’t even feel the need to explain why it’s like those things.
We’re gonna do lists.
We’re gonna do music.
We’re gonna do food and writing and wit and book reviews and pictures of my dog. We’re gonna talk about eating well and drinking too much and how weird it is to feel hungover after two glasses of wine (wtf body, you used to be a champ). We’re gonna talk about running or not running and pilates and yoga and travel and literally anything I feel like.
I deleted every post (Saved ’em in the trash bin though. Because, you know, nostalgia or whatever). I deleted every follower (Like…I think I did that. I’m the actual worst at technology). AND DAMMMNNN IT FELT GOOD. It felt like when you eat broccoli and then you have a broccoli piece in your teeth all day but you don’t have any floss and neither does anyone around you and so all day you’re just working on it with your tongue and swishing your water around and then you finally get home and floss that sucker out and you’re just like fuck yea.
You’re welcome, me.