Reinventing, Again

A beautiful fall morning, roofs frosted, clouds covering all the orange brimmed hills that have become part of my daily landscape, and banana bread baking in the oven, reminding me this place where I live can sometimes feel like home. After the pure tumult and uprootedness of this fall, I am welcoming the idea of a routine like a long-lost lover coming home from sea. Feeling like this little birdie will finally have a place to rest her feet for a while. 

Starting my job this week has turned out to be far less of a fulfilling venture than I had dreamed-up for my first week. I'm sure that speaks once again to my far too idealistic expectations for this unkempt, unpredictable world we live in. So with lowered job expectations and a new schedule, I'm forced to reflect on many things. To go back to the drawing board, if you will.  At the ripe old age of almost- twenty-five I still wrestle with the question of what it truly means to live. And here I have another chance to toy with that question and what it means for me. The funny thing about life is we don't stop living until we die, so each day, willingly or unwillingly, we are forced to play a part. To live, to act, to react. So here I am, forced to decide how to be, and what to do. Free time is a daunting thing, learning how to live again in a new place is a daunting thing, adapting to a new schedule, a new career, new friends and a new culture are also all daunting things, especially for us novices of this thing we call living.