tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28552024778173187682024-02-20T03:01:55.051-08:00I don't know what this is for.Julie MacDonaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03558235187486935786noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2855202477817318768.post-3608642259462251212014-03-04T20:25:00.001-08:002014-03-05T08:57:21.202-08:00How do you write your first blog post?<span style="color: #073763;">I can't answer this question. I think that's why I've never actually published any of the posts that I've written. It always seems like such a massive undertaking to move my mouse from the center of the page and let it hover over the publish button as if I could actually change the world by allowing my finger to click my trackpad and send my words out into the web in which we all are tangled. As if anyone will ever even read this.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;"><i>There's a first time for everything</i>. So here's my first time...am I doing it right? Is there a wrong way to do it? I don't know answers to these questions either so I'm just going to go for it.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">I feel like I've lost my sense of adventure. My thoughts have tricked me into believing that I'm content where I stand now. In reality I pace through my mind every night looking for a chance to manipulate my own circumstances and escape the maze I, myself, have created. I am a jack of all trades and consequently I am a master of none, except for one. I am extremely talented when it comes to being restless. <i>I want to see the world</i>. That is my <i>thing</i>. But right now, I'm doing nothing to get even an inch closer to my next adventure.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;"><i>Everything happens when you least expect it. </i>I have a job, but it is not what I was taught to expect. My coworkers have become my family in a city that I never anticipated would steal my heart and my mind.</span><br />
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<i>Be a part of something bigger than yourself</i>. I am. I am a part of the revitalization of the city of Detroit; I could not have arrived in Detroit at a more crucial time for its growth as well as my own.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">I think I care, but I cannot tell.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">When I was younger, all I thought about, when I brainstormed how I would spend my life, was money. Engineer, radiologist, professor...<b>six+ figures</b> or at least jobs that I thought came with that paycheck. Now, I make less than enough money to live on, working overtime hours for someone who sometimes calls me the wrong name.</span><br />
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<i>It's for the cause</i>. But is that enough to justify being unhappy? Am I unhappy? If I am in a mental state of constant change, how will I ever gauge how I truly feel? I think about where I have been and times that I've felt truly happy. I most certainly do not feel those same feelings where my feet are currently set. I feel other feelings though, ones that I have never felt before.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">If you expect nothing from anybody, you’re never disappointed. </span></i></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">When I allow my mind to be free, I feel like I am making progress. I am beginning to truthfully understand this process. I am not sure, but sometimes I think it is somehow related to expectations. They say if you have expectations it is easiest to be let down, that if you have none you will only be pleasantly surprised. I'm not convinced that this is not total bullshit. I am beginning to think that a free mind does not live without expectation, but with high self expectation and the desire to fulfill. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">Here I am left with the question then...what is to be expected of me?</span></span></span><br />
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Julie MacDonaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03558235187486935786noreply@blogger.com0