100!!!

This is my 100th blog post! And I don't know what to say! I recently read an article about selfie-takers and how there are three categories of people who take selfies. One group posts selfies to document the moment—like a dad at a baseball game. Another category is "self-promoting selfie-takers." These people want to show off their lipstick or get 354 likes on their post. I can't remember the third group, but this article isn't the main point I'm trying to make. I thought about my writings—my 100th blog post, for instance—and what I'm doing here. Am I trying to self-promote? No, because I don't link my blog onto my other social accounts. Am I documenting moments? Maybe, and most likely. I want to look back and have a place to see what I've done. But I also think that I'm here simply to write, and to clear my mind of what I need to say, to an empty audience, since I'm sitting at home alone watching a Netflix documentary on graphic design and drinking my Powerade Zero. That part was documenting.

I write because I write. That's it. And I read because I miss reading. I could be doing so much more, and that part scares me. I could be part of an organization, building kits for people overseas. I could be making treats for people each week and, through inspiration, deliver those treats to specific people who needed that chocolate chip cookie. I could be selling products, making more money, or losing more weight. But I stick to my routine, and I live inside my comfort zone. And most days I love it. Other days, there's that itch to explore, to zipline, to create more than ever before. But now I'm content with soaking in more documentaries, finishing laundry from the day before, and mastering some recipes since I only know how to make spaghetti. I read a quote last week that said, "Everyone has their own idea of hell. But hell is this: the person you became will meet the person you could have become."

So what do we do about it?