You've got to start somewhere.
Most of us, and I'm no exception to this, have got to start in a lot of places, and often.
What does this mean? Well, it means that I've been wanting to do more, be more, seek out more, for as long as I can remember. It's always I'll start on Monday or similar. The usual faux-commitments followed inevitably by the usual faux-excuses.
I've been in a lot of bad places throughout my adolescence; I've struggled to come to terms with who I am, and I'm still trying to figure out who I want to be. As the years go by, however, I'm realising more and more that life is not a checklist, and it's not a race. Nobody will be checking up to see whether I have things sorted out by my 25th birthday, or by my 27th, or my 30th, and that's okay. When it stops being about time limits, it stops being scary. In the immortal words of Cady Heron, the limit does not exist.
The title of this blog is somewhat tongue-in-cheek. It serves as a reminder of how silly it is to give yourself deadlines for things like your health, but at the same time having a goal is sort of a comfort blanket for me. In any case, I'm a sucker for a rhyme and even worse for a to-do list. Habits are allowed, as long as you don't let them take over.
So where are we? We're at my journal. The original intent of the blog.
Things have started falling into place in my life recently. I'll talk more about this I'm sure, but I'm in a job that I love, I have wonderful friends, I'm financially stable, and I've never been happier.
This, to me, seems like the perfect time to kick my ass into shape.
So join me, check in every once in a while, and shout me words of encouragement as I work out how to work out. I'll be eating better, living better, and teaching myself how to grow my own happiness. Does that sound lame?
You bet your ass it does.