while we're being honest

just returned from seven weeks of traveling, the longest i've spent on the road so far. and it's been really hard to adjust back into normal life (whatever that even means for me). i'm really not satisfied with the same routine anymore. it's good, though, because i'm consistently questioning myself why i do certain things, and making sure i only make priorities of the things i really care about. it sounds so cliche but it is SO easy to get distracted by daily life, and we start to forget about the things we're really passionate about.

so i decided i'm committed to doing more of:
-writing/journaling
-spending time outdoors
-taking valuable but inconvenient opportunities
-meeting people who are different from me
-spending time with people i really care about
-reading

less of:
-social networking
-going back to places i'm familiar with
-random/purposeless hangouts

when i get in these moods, i always like to pull out the journals from the shelves (or out of the archives) and read them. and unexpectedly some of the entries actually made me tear up. i've always said that forgetting is one of our most important defense mechanisms, and i can really see how it's true. if it hadn't been immortalized in writing, i'd have forgotten that the feeling of heartache isn't new to me.

one thing that hit me was that i was SO much more introverted before. and as such, a lot more in tune with my own feelings. i thought being more extroverted made me happier, but i just realized that i've been treating people like a drug. i thought being alone made me tired, but i think it just forces me to face this deep sadness that i still have over things that happened years ago. i can forget about that when i'm with people. i don't know what to do with that revelation. not sure i would trade ignorant bliss for self-awareness.