I should have some sort of symbol or warning or something before each blog entry. Saying that the following isn’t a “travel entry” but more of a “life entry”. I realize that I started this blog to write about my travels, and I feel like I’ve done a decent job covering most of it thus far. However, I said in the beginning that I’ve kept a journal since I was in 3rd grade. And that I also stopped writing about 2 years ago. And so maybe it just feels nice to write again. Even if it’s about nonsense that people actually aren’t interested in reading. So I suppose this is my warning: this is more of a LIFE entry :)

Every now and then, I would go back on old journal entries and read them. I would always claim that I liked to write in a diary/journal because it’s therapeutic and don’t get me wrong, it really is. But I also have this guilty pleasure of going back and reading old entries. I’m not sure what I gain out of it, but it’s just nice to reminisce sometimes. Sometimes I read about old mistakes that I’m still making today. And as terrifying as that is, that I’m still not learning, it’s also amusing in a way.

Like I just said, I stopped writing about 2 years ago after my life got erased (dramatic pause) – via computer crash anyway. Luckily, I still had quite a few blog entries on my “Myspace” account, that I randomly decided to read this morning (& I put “Myspace” in quotes because it really is quite an irrelevant & seemingly juvenile site these days [Sorry Tom]…Although I’m still so reluctant to delete it ha. I’m telling you, I have an issue with letting go of the past). First of all, I can’t believe I actually posted all of those things for the public to read. Secondly, I actually was maybe getting at something. Some of the things I wrote weren’t half bad. I mean, they were awful and embarrassing and I would delete them if I had the balls to, but they were somewhat meaningful.

I read about my high school days and saw how absolutely obnoxious I was. I mean, I already knew how annoying I was back then, but seeing myself write was just way too blatant of evidence. Regardless, it was still rather entertaining. My favorite bits were (& when I say “favorite”, I mean “the worst parts were…”) about how I “hated drama” yet every single blog I wrote was about drama. There were perhaps 20-25 entries, all spaced out between my sophomore year in high school, up until my sophomore year in college. It was funny seeing how I at least matured a little bit but how the boy problems never went away. The last entry was my favorite. A completely inappropriate entry completely calling out a guy I had semi-dated for a year and a half. I think I made that one private after I finally got over him. I never had the heart to delete it because in all honesty, I did a pretty damn good job calling him out on his shit. (We're actually friends now, so it's okay).

I wish I had the passion, or maybe just the balls, to write about the things I wrote about back then. I suppose I’m a little more conscious to the fact that this IS the internet and everybody can read what I’m writing. I think back then I just didn’t give a shit. I envy that girl just a LITTLE.

It’s funny seeing how my life has just been a cycle of the same thing. And not in a bad way at all. I went through high school thinking my biggest problems were these 4 guys I couldn’t decide between. But I’m sure in 10 years from now, I’m going to think back on how stupid my problems were when I was 23. I managed to document the greatest milestones in my life, which I’m so glad I did. Graduating high school and moving away for the first time ever. Dealing with far too many deaths at a young age. Going to college and having the hardest time adjusting and all the while, just drinking my life away (sorry mom). Almost having to drop out and going through horrible “heartbreaks”. And then now here I am, about to graduate college and I feel just as vulnerable and immature as that 16-year-old girl that wrote about how “crazy” sophomore year had been. Everybody is leaving San Diego. I don’t know where to go after this. I’m almost scared to move back home because I don’t know if I have a home anymore. Well, I pretty much know I don’t. My friends are dispersed across the country, from Northern California, to Texas to Georgia. So where do I go from here?

I would love to keep traveling but is it because I want to travel, or is because I don’t want to grow up? Everybody else around me is growing up, it seems. I know I’ll eventually have to do the same. But then there’s still that other side of me that is saying I don’t NEED to grow up yet and I can travel and do what I want because THIS is the ONLY time I’ll be able to do it so carelessly and freely.

As much fun as it all is, I still feel like I don’t know what I’m doing in my life and that I should figure that out. There’s this void in me that I’m not quite sure how to fill. But in all honesty, is a JOB going to fill that void? I highly doubt it. There always seems to be something in me that I’m missing, that I’m always trying to fill. Something I’m searching for. But maybe that void is just what keeps you going. Keeps you looking for more, keeps you hungry for life. Maybe it’s meant to be there forever so you don’t get too comfortable and set in routine. Maybe it’s not a void at all. Maybe it’s just drive to keep you from settling for anything but amazing. 



**I also took the liberty of stealing the title from an old "MySpace" blog entry (which was a quote from Donnie Darko or something). Funny how things from your past can help you figure out the present. Sometimes even the future. It may or may not be such a bad thing to want to hold onto the Past.



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