Oh life. You are such a silly thing. Sometimes, I can appreciate that your purpose is to just exist and see what happens along the way. I also feel like there should be something bigger – something I am not aware of right now. I see why people turn to religion. It makes living have a purpose, I suppose. I think I need to find my own religion. I think it will require these fundamental pillars…
1. love and acceptance of oneself and others
2. respect for mother nature and the environment
3. help, don’t hurt
4. focus on what one already has, rather than what one lacks
5. follow your passion
Sometimes planning is actually impossible. The impossibility forces you to wing it. Winging it forces you to appreciate the journey, rather than the preparation. I like planning and organizing. I am enjoying winging it right now. I am trying to find that nice balance between preparation and impulsivity.
I don’t want to pack. I always hate packing. But packing my house up is just too much. I want my house to still be my house when I am 80 years old. But, as we have already sold the house and it no longer belongs to us as of September 1, I will spend my Saturday putting my memories into boxes.
My eyes seem to be leaking. How strange for a house and a town to cause this bodily reaction. Until my next house becomes a home and the next town becomes my community, my eyes will probably keep leaking from time to time.
Goodbye friends and family, I’ll see you again I’m sure. And until then, I will have an extra spot in my heart for you (more than the usual room you reserve of course). I love you. I miss you.
Goodbye home. Hello adventure.
When you have a pseudo family, it just means that you both chose each other to be a part of the bigger picture. It is like a friend that spans generations. It is a grandparent, a cousin, an aunt, an uncle. They are the people that you make a part of your life and your family, even though the world had you born into different last names. They are the people who share your heart and the things that make you who you are.
I am not Portuguese, but my family is.
To my sister and brother,
We are weird kids. And that is what I love most about us, I think. You guys are the only people who truly understand my weirdness. Well, I guess you don’t even understand it really, but you get where it comes from at least. I don’t worry about what I do or say in front of you two. Because even if it is totally the weirdest thing ever, we will just laugh about it and potentially reference it for the rest of our lives. We are weirdos and I think it is great.
The middle weirdo in our weird sibling group
P.s. Thanks Mom and Dad for cultivating our weirdness and allowing us to be comfortable in our personalities. You passed on the weirdness and for that, I am forever, and weirdly, grateful.