i should be cleaning the toilet right now.

but instead, i've gotten caught up in a moment of self reflection and decided that the toilet can wait.
(it hasn't been cleaned in nearly 3 months...what's another hour?)

as i was eating my lunch, standing over the counter next to the sink (otherwise known as my kitchen table) i found myself looking out the window and contemplating my state of being.

This morning, at an hour inhuman to be experiencing on a sunday, i found myself researching grad schools online and asking myself that haunting ego-driven question 'what do i want to do with my life?'

i've been feeling rather stuck these past couple of months, and the past few weeks have been the worst of it. i'm sure it's all in part due to the fact that it's january, my grandma just passed away, and i'm approaching the big 2-9 still single, still stuck in the same place i've always been--a working twenty-something who's days as a twenty-something are limited.

don't misinterpret this as an 'omg. i'm so old. i can't believe i'm almost 30' post, because it's not. i actually have no qualms about aging, the only real beef i have being that as i age, my parents age too.

what this is really about is getting a year older, but feeling that not enough has changed in the past year to justify a year being spent.

sure, i've moved to a new apartment, seen a bit of 'personal' growth, become a bit more comfortable in my own skin, but nothing year worthy. no big bhag accomplished that i can look back and think 'oh man, i can't believe i did that!' or event that i can categorize as life-changing. i've just been floating along, racking up the occasional professional triumph, of which i don't even fully allow myself to celebrate as to me, it's just my job to do well.

i really thought when i moved to vancouver, i'd fall in love. what i didn't think was that i'd move to vancouver, realize i needed to fall in love, and suddenly become one of those single twenty-somethings complaining about being single.

being single never really bothered me, to be completely honest. i've always just had faith that when the time was right, i'd meet somebody. it was the one thing i couldn't control in my life, so why worry?

several years later, i'm worried. the unnaturally long time that i've been single that has me starting to question whether or not i'm even actually normal. in order to best reserve judgment from the unseen faces of the 2 people that read this blog (i'm being optimistic) i will not quantify the length of time with a year, but let's just say at this point in my life i could probably qualify quite easily for nunhood, and i'm really not exaggerating.

by nature, i'm a fixer. i like to fix what's wrong. with me, with my friends, you name it. i have the worst time shopping because i feel the need to edit and redesign everything to the point that i don't actually find anything worthy of the effort it'd take for me to take out my wallet. ironically, my dating habits reflect this as well. i am the queen of the first date, and notoriously famous for never calling.

that said, there have been those occasions when i fall head over heels for something and become obsessed. a vintage louis vuitton bucket bag (in my possession), a colorblocked YSL top handle bag (will never be in my possession), or minimal chloe gladiators (also will never be in my possession). i guess it's been a while since i can say the same thing for the opposite sex.

like my taste in accessories (see: YSL bag, chloe sandals), i have a habit of obsessing over the unattainable (ryan reynolds? the super cute yoga instructor at Y?) which i'm sure is no accident, and in fact some way of psychologically sabotaging myself so that i don't end up spending the money i don't really have, or open my heart up to be completely humiliated or broken. what i don't realize is that by not spending the money i will never actually know what it feels like to pamper myself frivolously and not opening my heart up i might never actually know what it feels like to have butterflies on a first date or to not want to leave my apartment on a saturday afternoon because being curled up on the couch with somebody (other than my cat) is so much better.

unfortunately, this self-analyzing could go on all afternoon (until the end of time, probably) and my toilet really does need to get cleaned (it's disgusting).

while there's nothing i can do about another year passing, what is important is to remain focused on what i've learned, and where i'm going. last year, i couldn't have admitted any of this out loud, or to another human (again, i'm assuming real people are reading this) so i guess that's progress.

in true yogic fashion, i'm setting an intention for 29. it's going to be one hell of a good year. i'm kicking it off in paris, and damn it, i'll be ending it somewhere equally as amazing. i have faith that i won't be single forever, because i know that God did not put me on this planet to be alone. something is coming. and it's big. and damn it, i'm ready.