city life

 

i'm pretty future minded. i'm always thinking about what i want to do, where i want to live. i make a lot of lists. i plan trips and parties.

and every now and then i stop and look at my life, and i think to myself - i don't totally remember what i planned on doing at this point, but i'm pretty sure this isn't it. did i plan on living in philadelphia and working a 9-5 job? did i plan on dating a boy who lives two hours away? did i think i would look and dress this way? did i think i would think this way? did i imagine myself doing improv two to four nights a week? where did i see myself?

i don't even remember.

and i'm sure that two years from now, i won't even remember the plans i made for future me in the present. which begs the question, what's the point in planning anything? things aren't going to go as planned and that's not even a bad thing. it's just a thing. 

when i was in kindergarten, i imagined that sixteen year old caitlin would only wear stick-out-belly shirts and date a guy with a ponytail and a red convertible. when i was fourteen, i thought i would live in new york and be on broadway, despite my lack of vocal ability. i've wanted to be a journalist, the president, a teacher, and a doctor. and i'm not those things. and i don't want those things anymore. isn't it strange that we can change so much and still be the same person?

the point of the matter is, if you asked me five years ago where i thought i would be post-graduation, i would have never in a thousand years told you that i would be cramming a weeks worth of groceries into a bike basket and teetering home in the rain. never planned on that one.