This has been an interesting blog post to write because most people I know can attest to the fact that I have had a checkered past when it comes to my apparel choices. These poor decisions have been evidenced in the past when I described my style as one that makes me look like “an extra in a searing documentary on the mistreatment of Walmart towards its employees” or when I pointed out how much I used to favor “Wrangler jeans, [a] button-down rodeo shirt, and cowboy boots.” If those two quotes don’t make you realize how bad my style has been, you should probably find a personal stylist.
I seriously considered starting this with the lyrics to the 2009 song “When I Grow Up,” but I would like to believe that my readers are too highbrow to recognize that dated pop culture reference. The reason that I used a somewhat whimsical title is because I want to talk about the future. The one that I envisioned at different stages of life, and the “future” that I ended up living.
669 days ago, I packed up my car in New York and began my drive towards my new life. Ok, that’s a tad dramatic. It was just me moving to Ohio to start my job in the admissions office at my alma mater. However, it was still quite the experience because, not counting the treks between my college dorm and home, I have only moved twice that I can remember.
It has been over a month since I posted about the end to my 21-goals, and I knew that I could no longer put off sharing what my 22-year-old goals are going to be. In the past (the one year I did goals), I made a goal for each year of my life, but I decided to discontinue this practice for this coming year. Instead of making twenty-two goals, I wanted to make fifteen goals towards which I could devote greater effort. So without any further ado, here is my new set of goals:
I know that it is a little past the end of my 21st year, but I figured better late than never when it came to writing a blog post that wraps up my 21 goals. Also, I am currently sitting in LAX and figure that writing a blog post is more productive than roaming the halls of the airport in search of a Jamba Juice.
Last year I wrote a blog post that detailed my experience working out with two of my friends. To recap: it did not go well. I love running and most other forms of cardio, but using weights has never appealed to me. Sure, I always wanted to be muscular, but I was not too keen on the idea of spending time in a weight room to make that dream a reality. So in true goal-setting fashion, I decided to force myself to use a weight room by saying that I would have to use a weight room twelve separate times within four weeks.
I recently set out to accomplish my goal of doing something to make myself more cultured. I considered my options as I sat on the couch watching a show about a morbidly obese woman showing the world that you can be both fat and fierce. The possibilities included: journeying into the German Village in Columbus to try schnitzel for the first time, visiting an art gallery to immerse myself in art history, or staying home and having Adam, my hipster housemate, give me a lesson on how to make a pour over coffee. I am mildly lazy/not really into art, so I chose the latter option.
After work on a Friday in July, while staring down the nose of a three-day weekend, I decided that I should do something adventurous. With no planning whatsoever, I logged onto the CouchSurfing website and started sending messages to people living in New York City to see if they could house me for a few nights. For those of you who are in the dark about what couch surfing is, it is a website where people post a profile saying that they are willing to house people for a few nights at no cost. I had heard about it from some friends, and I think that it is really big in Europe and the serial killer community.
I have wanted to spend an entire night in my hammock for quite some time. There were a couple times in the past when I attempted to do this, and both were colossal failures. The first attempt involved my hammock being attached to a metal pole during a thunderstorm, and the second was thwarted my one of the guys I was with waking me up in the middle of the night to go back to campus because he couldn’t sleep. Clearly, I have had bad luck with hammocking in the past, so I set out to change that this summer.
I will probably never be featured on a show about hoarders, with dramatic shots of me climbing over mountains of books and rotting Panera Bread bagels. However, I found that I had accrued quite a bit of clutter during my time at college. Because of this, I decided that it would be a good idea to make one of my twenty-one goals involve decluttering my life. I decided to break this goal down into two categories: 1) declutter my material life 2) declutter my virtual life.