Explanation: Aimee, A History

Well, I am a new blogger. Who know's how long this will last... but we'll test it out anyway.

I had been pondering starting a blog for a few months, but then I continued to put it off. Who wants to read what goes through my mind, right?

I was inspired to follow through with it after reading the blogs of a young woman I really look up to. She is very much like me in many ways, although more mature, level-headed, eloquent in her thoughts, and much wiser. By simply reading her blog, I learned a great deal. My hope is that keeping a blog will allow my thought process to develop and become a bit more like this godly woman.

So where to begin? Maybe with the title I chose for my blog: Confessions of an Aimless Aim. Let's start with the most obvious part: Aim. That's me. Easy enough. Next: Confessions. I'm hoping that my blog will be a starting point for me to be more open and vocal. I'm not that open in "real life," so maybe this will help. Finally: Aimless. I've just graduated from college. If you count kindergarten, which I do, I have successfully completed 18 years of school. So far, the majority of my life has been spent sitting at a desk listening to varieties of teachers try to teach me something. Now I'm entering the "real world" with no idea of what I really want to do. That is my aimlessness in a very brief nutshell.

As I sit here in my room, thinking about what I could possibly write about that would contribute to my first entry, I am surrounded by unfinished projects. My sketchbook is next to me. It is one of many. Along with the rest of them, it contains pages and pages of half-drawn pictures. Pictures of my friends, Jered, dancers, strangers, etc.

Propped against the wall is a large frame my sister gave me. I mean, it's huge. I planned on making a collage to hang in my room. It is completely empty. She gave me the frame earlier this year.

My sister and I switched bedrooms when I left for Trinity three years ago. It seemed fair that she have the larger room since I wasn't going to be home. My new room is pink. Very pink. I've wanted to paint it since I moved into it. Like I said... it's been three years... and it's still quite pink.

In my closet, I have at least three scrapbooks. One for a specific trip, one for various things since high school, and one that I haven't even started yet. None of them have been touched in a couple years.

On my chair is my Ukraine journal/letter. I really wanted to be diligent about writing down everything, even the tiniest details so that I could remember as much as possible about the trip. I stopped two days before the trip ended, and I haven't spent the half an hour it would take to finish it.

My point is this: I have left so many things unfinished in my life. Some minor. Some not so minor. This is not a habit I care to continue. Hopefully, the motivation spurred on by the woman who inspired me to write this little bit about myself will carry through into other aspects of my life.