As my apartment FINALLY comes together, I’ve been on the hunt for unique pieces to put in out home. Rather than feature modern pieces, much of my home decor is an amalgamation of vintage items and handmade tokens from friends or craft shows. There is something so special about having an artisan’s touch on a product you own. Those pieces carry heart, dedication and hours spent to become a statement piece on your mantle or bookshelf. There is just an energy evoked from handmade goods that no store-bought, mass produced product could ever emulate.
In blogging, it is often hard for me to come by opportunities that get my heart beating faster and moments when I know that what I’m doing is part of a bigger picture. When I visited the Center for Hearing and Speech last month, it quickly became apparent that I am now one thread contributing to an incredible Houston tapestry: Via Colori.
The quarter-life crisis.
Yes, it’s a thing, and no, you don’t have to feel bad about having one.
Aptly named for the period when you’re a fourth of your way through life, the quarter-life crisis is increasingly common among twenty-somethings. It can be described as a feeling of disappointment, either with yourself or with what you haven’t accomplished yet. You’re anxious about your future, and feel as though you’ll never reach your goals, professionally, romantically, or otherwise.
I’m baaaack. If you are on the go and don’t have time to read this podcast, check our the audio file on below.
No life can be predicted or planned to a T. You move new places, fall in love, hate love, meet new people, fall back in love, travel and catch the trains of opportunities as they fly by in varying routes. Everyone’s path is distinctively their own. I’ve thought about this a lot as I try to find my own train. I get easy distracted, spill my coffee on my map, get lost, and ask all of the bystanders around me which train I’m supposed to catch—as if they know where I belong. In the grand scheme of things, I missed a lot of trains.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve never had a place of my own. As a child, my parents always held superior reign over my bedroom decor. My tiny room at my old home in Florida had been renovated to whatever my creative father could muster. I had a princess bed one year, walls painted with a kaleidoscope of colors, a dinosaur room, a room with 3D music notes stuck to the walls, etc. My last and final bedroom from ages 15 to 25 was a New York City-themed shrine, complete with a mural of Times Square and at least 30 framed Playbills. (Envision the decor of your favorite Jewish deli.) As a newly minted 27-year-old, I finally have an apartment of my own that’s completely bare.
Cue the gallery wall art mission.
Happy birthday to me! Well, almost… For my 27th birthday, I’ve decided that the best gift I could receive is my friends, family and readers coming together for a cause I am incredibly passionate about. This year, I want nothing more than to come together and give back to my two favorite domestic violence and sexual assault organizations: Women in Distress of Broward County and Houston Area Women’s Center. I’d love to raise $1,027 by my birthday, September 4th (a.k.a. Bey Day). I’d love for you to consider donating here on my YouCaring fundraiser page.