The older I get, the more I'm learning that I'm not really a materialistic person. I mean, I love a great pair of shoes as much as any chick, but I have also discovered that the happiness obtained from their purchase is ephemeral at best (the endurability thereof is directly proportionate to the awesomeness of said footwear.)
I have found I don't really care about money either (although I've never really had much; maybe I'd change my mind if I did?) And even though I have had some really great jobs, I have never gotten that much satisfaction out of my career. (It also appears to be fleeting and constantly hampered by the number of asshats I encounter on any given day.)
All I really want in this life is a family to love and love me (which hopefully includes one or more romantic partners) and to write. That's it. I always thought I was a complex person, but maybe I'm simple after all. (Can simple people employ this degree of parenthetical commenting?)
Who knew?
It's the simplest things that provide the most joy in life, is what I've found :)
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