I have been dreading writing this post. So much so that I am doing it a week early just to get it over with. Next Wednesday I will be twenty-five years old. Mid twenties. Quarter of a century. The months leading up to this grand event I have spent feeling excited. Waiting. Pacing. Ready to grab my birthday and never let it go! And then, this past Monday I was suddenly hit with the realization that I am definitely not a child anymore. I also have this nagging feeling that I should have done more. Excuses don't seem valid now, as if I can't blame "not knowing any better" for my behavior. I know that in the grander scheme of things twenty-five is absolutely nothing, but it still feels like such a big deal. This is the face I am wearing heading into TWENTY-FIVE. I can't stop saying it out loud. I don't know why, it's not like that's comforting me.
Instead of new years resolutions I feel as though I need to make birthday resolutions. I need to be held accountable if I slack off and don't get them done. It needs to be written down so I don't ignore it. I am a HUGE procrastinator.
1. Blog all the time.
2. Photograph everyday.
3. Hug more (this one is especially important).
4. Learn to speak French.
5. Sing more.
6. Wear more dresses and girly shoes.
7. Horseback ride again.
8. Visit Ireland - July!
9. Stand up for myself.
10. Get stronger.
There are two things I know for sure going into twenty-five. Cindy will wish me a happy birthday at the stroke of midnight, and this year is different. It is my year.