Ten new tattoos. A hand painted leather jacket. Hair that looks like it’s actually been cared for. Black dresses in all shapes and styles. Silver rings. A trip to Rome. Or New York. Or Bali. A MacBook that doesn’t shut down every time use more than two programs at the same time.
All things I want. They’re on my mental list of ‘yep, if I get the money, it’s gonna be directed that way‘. And eh, yeah, I really want them, because they would make my life more beautiful, edgy, convenient, fun, adventurous. For now. But the fact that I have a mental list that passes through my mind once or twice (maybe twenty times, on a bad one) a day, doesn’t mean that those things are something I truly focus on. Because yeah, I want ’em, but there is so much more I want, that will make me so much happier. For, like, ever.
It’s the actions, through which I get certain feelings, that I chase after constantly. I want to read, work, learn, so I can get to do the work I love (in my pj’s, no less). I want to cook together with my babe, as he sings and I can hardly breathe because I am laughing so, so hard. I want to walk, to feel the wind brush through my hair, to feel the autumn crisp. I want to write, to make, to create. All day. Every day. I want to meet people I have unexpected connections with, to fall into a conversation that carries on all day, all night. I want to read, words that touch me, stories that open up my eyes to a world unknown, a peek into the mind of another. I want to watch films that make me cry. And comedy specials that make me laugh so hard that I sound like a donkey. (No shame.) I want to high five a lot. And to hug. Kiss. (Daily.) I want to talk about the past, with the person who knows me best, and think about the shenanigans that lay before us.
These are the things that make my eyes light up. This is what makes me feel good, really good, like, in my soul. Making the deepest depths of me fire up, with confetti blazing around and fireworks going off. That good. This is what I live for (for real). And that is what makes it count. There is no feeling like you’re constantly slaving around if you’re doing what you love. Honestly, life becomes a total fucking party, once you’ve figured out what makes the confetti sprinkle freely, and you find a way to do at least a bit of it every day. (Imagine feeling like every day is Saturday. That’s it. That’s what you get for doing that bit of soul work and then going after what you find.)
Follow your curiosity. Follow your heart. Trust your gut. All of that. Do what you love, daily, and you’ll boogie through life like never before.