Today I turn 20! It’s still a number I can’t quite wrap my head around. I never imagined I’d get to this age; I thought I wouldn’t make it past 14. I had such a hard time from 13 to now. But I realized I had goals, dreams that I wanted to work toward achieving. If I hadn’t made such a list, I wouldn’t be here.
I have one ultimate goal and I’ll die happy: to live past 100 years. In second grade, my teacher read the class a story. The general plot was that there was an old man who lived alone on a duck farm. One day he died in his sleep. The ducks still quacked outside, the trees still swayed, the pond still drenched. The whole world kept moving, but the old man did not. It fascinated me that just going in my sleep was the best way to die. I did not know of any methods.
As I got older, the innocence shed. My first idea of death was that it solely came from illness. Then violence cropped on television and movies. Then crazy brutal “accidents” in articles. I knew then I wanted to always be different. It’s so rare to find a story that says the person peacefully passed. Death is infinitely at an inconvenient time.
Enough sentimental sap for now.
My concrete goals as I trickle into my 30s are:
Move to Seattle (the most important one). Seattle is basically the only reason I’m alive. I constantly remind myself that I will be home soon.
Live in an apartment with my best friend and other cool people.
Work in publishing houses, magazines, any type of print that interests me.
Set up a side photography business.
Be published at some point, whether it’s pictures or poetry.
I’m not concerned on what age I should be married by (if I ever decide/find someone who wants to marry me) but definitely after 25 and I’m well established financially and mentally stable.
Maybe a kid? I have a whole separate belief in that.
Go to Iceland with a friend.
I’m sure once I dive into the 20’s, I’ll have a clearer mind on what my goals should be. But these seem right, right?