So I'm sitting in my apartment watching America's Most Terrifying Places 2 on the Travel Channel. I'm in New Orleans. I should be on Frenchman St., or at least at Cooter Brown's. Or so I tell myself from time to time.
I find myself balancing thoughts of "I wish I had the kind of fun I used to" with "I'm glad I know what makes me happy, and I'm going to stick with that." I guess at 35, it makes sense to look back just as much as I look forward, or look at right now. I'm sort of proud at having arrived at a place in my life where everything I've ever wanted to do or be I'm doing and being. So it's hard to get up and go every time I have a whim to do "something fun". It's just that I guess I have to re-define fun in this new found personal era of contentment. I don't really want to drink all that much, I certainly don't want to inch my way down the middle of a crowded street, shoulder to shoulder with other people who may or may not want to be there. But then there's this little voice saying, "don't get complacent with life. Don't forget that God can be found in unexpected ways when you do something out of the ordinary." I'm going to have to ponder that a little bit. You spend your youth trying to find what satisfies you, and then you find it. Now what?
