Much to the initial surprise of many of my followers, I have quite the rural past which I have freely shared on this blog. These anecdotes have detailed my time spent working on a farm, throwing knives, and failing to emulate the murderer of Bambi’s mother. Basically, I haven’t always been the somewhat polished, dirt-averse individual most of my readers have come to know and tolerate, and today I’m going to add fuel to that fire by describing my time as a horse owner.
One of my best friends visited me this weekend, and we reminisced about the time we did our best to shut down the use of an app on our college campus (and how we suppressed free speech in the process). The memory seemed pretty far fetched, so wanting to remember more of the details, I went back through my old journals and found an entry from August 2015 where I described our mission. In typical Most Boring Person fashion, I’m going to react to it:
If you’ve read my blog as far back as 2017, you’ll know I haven’t had the best of luck when it comes to getting my hair cut. Most notoriously was the disastrous haircut that spawned memorable lines like “…raking through my hair with the ferocity of a recently scorned girlfriend shredding her ex-boyfriend’s letter jacket” and “budget haircuts, like back-alley lobotomies, should be avoided at all costs.” If you can’t tell from reading those dramatic gems, I desperately hoped my terrible haircutting experiences were over. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.
Many people who grew up in the Northeast probably remember the euphoria of rushing downstairs on a wintery weekday to discover that school had been canceled. I, on the other hand, remember quite the opposite: an anticlimactic feeling of trudging downstairs on a snowy school-day to sit at the dining room table and work on my assignments. The difference? Being homeschooled.
As I drove a moving truck full of my belongings across the Florida state line today, I couldn’t help but reflect on the past year and the lessons it taught me. So not wanting to be selfish by keeping those to myself, I’ve decided to share them with you.
Although this year has not gone according to the five-year plan I once carefully crafted, I did my best to make the most of it. When I moved back to Florida in July, I did so with a steely determination to make my second round down south much more impactful than my first. While I never imagined I would one day be working in the legal field, I was excited to challenge myself in new areas and planned to stay in the job for the next few years. But once again, I came to realize how plans can change in the blink of an eye.
In case the title caused you to wonder, I have not been concealing a marriage. It’s slightly less dramatic, but exactly five years ago today, I wrote my first post for this blog. To celebrate this occasion, I’m going to react to that inaugural post because I couldn’t exactly commemorate the day by giving the traditional fifth-anniversary gift of wood.
Recently celebrating Thanksgiving prompted me to stop and think about what I am grateful for. As I’ve shared before, this year has had its fair share of low points, so I wanted to use the week of Thanksgiving as an opportunity to look back and focus on what I am thankful for in spite of the rough times I experienced. As I wrote my list of thankfulness, I was amazed to see just how blessed I am.
I was writing at a café this weekend when I noticed a nearby couple setting out an elaborate spread. At first, I was baffled by the size of the assortment because they were two wispy individuals who didn’t look like they would be able to name a carb with a gun to the head. But it all made sense once, upon elaborately staging the food and beverages, they pulled out a large camera and began a photoshoot.
Target. What do you picture when you hear that word? A store celebrating holidays months before they arrive? Stylish mothers surrounded by Hearth & Hand products worshipping an effigy of Joanna Gaines? I’ll tell you what I picture: a nearly empty store giving off some intense Left Behind vibes.