Life Stories 

So I’ve been thinking lately. It’s the holidays, it’s cold out and I need a healthy dose of humor.

Therefore, I’m starting up another theme-esque exercise. Except it’s entirely different. Though I will get back to theme. Eventually.

This new post happiness comes with a disclaimer. Nobody panic.

DISCLAIMER: This is not an exercise that involves me running around town in a Disney Costume, singing at the top of my lungs. That would be well, a bit excessive.

If you were looking forward to that possibility, I have just crushed your dreams. But you’re still going to get some humor!

What I am going to do is document my day to day life. I’m entirely sarcastic but it’s okay.

Anyway I will be throwing my “life stories” at ya’ll (me mocking my twang that lately people have told me is there).

Stress Management

Oh dear, where do I begin?

This was my thought as I sat in my bed at 3 AM stuffing my face with ice cream. 

After two five page papers and two presentations, this scaredy cat is tapped out. College sucks, but you know I’m surviving. 

So I’ve been pondering a question for a while. How do I manage my own stress? 

The answer: Writing. 

Then ask myself, doesn’t writing stress you out? Because the book you threw at your computer in frustration last night is still on your computer.

Me managing my stress is going outside finding some quiet place in the woods to just sit. 

Us sensitive souls need an escape from humanity. 

The woods is the only place that is untouched from stress. Its devoid of any humans, I am free to think the way that I want. 

That solitude is entirely mind restoring. 20 minutes that’s all I need. 

Traveler

All I have ever wanted to do is see the world.

To live life, always going one hundred miles per hour. Never stopping to get caught up in all the bullshit that accumulates within our lives.

The other day someone said to me, “I think that’s everyone’s goal. To travel the world. To forget their responsibilities. To live the fairy tale that was shoved down their throat as a kid.”

I don’t disagree. I look at people who travel all over the world. Some are happy and carefree, they have this air to a lack of responsibility. You think Gosh I wish I was them. 

Whereas if you know a few travelers some are so enamored by their “occupation” that they compel this almost sort of arrogance. But some, they are repulsed. They don’t see going to other places an exhilarating experience. It’s like traveling is a festering sore to them. Each time they go, that sore is expected to pop.

Every person is different. Some are the born traveler and some are not. Everyone has a different view and that’s okay.

I have wanted to be a traveler because like in my writing, exploring a new place is like magic. You never forget the first time you go to a new place. It’s not the same a second time.

I think that is what being a traveler is, feeling the thrill in exploration, like the thrill of imagination.

My mind is spontaneous, and I have always wanted traveling to be that way. Maybe it’s time I get out of the house. Run to the mountains or something.