It is safe to surround oneself in the familiar. To eat the same food, hangout with the same friends, speak only one language and develop a life full of predictability.
Predictability creates consistency and reduces discomfort and potential for failure.
But predictability robs my of contentment, fulfillment, wonder and sense of accomplishment.
I like changing my hairstyle to suit my mood; nevertheless, some of my hair experiments are not worth repeating. After one of my less attractive changes, my grandma remarked, amusement, interest and thinly veiled objection in her eyes , “You just can leave well enough alone, can you?”
Her rhetorical question was answered in time through observation of a pattern of incoherent decisions and anticipation of new opportunity.
(Background info: I’m an only child)
I have entertained myself since childhood imagining, contemplating ideas and observing my surroundings. I’m a severely introspective individual. I’m an independent thinker and I love using theories and frameworks to understand life. I am spiritual and logical and constantly look for clues to figure it all out.
My cousin/sister has described me as angsty:
Angst: a transcendent emotion in that it combines the unbearable anguish of life with the hopes of overcoming this seemingly impossible situation. Without the important element of hope, then the emotion is anxiety, not angst. Angst denotes the constant struggle one has with the burdens of life that weighs on the dispossessed and not knowing when the salvation will appear. -UrbanDictionary.com
Angsty I am. I believe in power of God, the good of people, the importance of critical thought, creative expression and self-evaluation. I believe in rest, but not idleness. There is always something to do or to ponder.
beliefs prompt me down a road which few traverse.
I strive to become a better version of myself, inspire myself, encourage others and work towards a better world.
I occasionally feel alone in my thoughts, but the words of Robert Frost prove that I’m in good company.
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.