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Twenty three is hard. An odd space. I’m an adult but I’m not quite fully established. I have dreams and they feel tangible, but I get the sweats when I think about leaving my comfort zone. Where will I be in five years?! Shit, what about where I’ll be in a year?
I’m gaining momentum.
I’m tired of putting time and effort into things that don’t matter. When I graduated college I was advised to stay away from non-profits. Too disorganized, not enough funding, JOB SECURITY? I want to be fulfilled. A bank account is not an indication of self-worth. Certainly not happiness. Whether I will find that in a cubicle, in graphic design… I don’t know.
Finding comfort in the unknown is hard.
Bombarded with so many messages and I’m not sure which shoe fits best on my feet. Graduate school? I started. I like it. But what about the part of me that wants to create? A passion can be a hobby and it can be a job. Can it be both? Should it be?
Welp, I don’t think there’s a right answer.
In the meantime, I’m going to reach out. Offer myself to the causes I believe in, give my time to things that matter. Busy doesn’t bother me, it’s the non-action that drives me nuts.
Ok, Kate over and out.

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