I had a very rapid epiphany while drifting to sleep in an upstate hotel near Saratoga Springs earlier this week —

I need to stop taking myself so seriously.

I don't know how or why this thought sprung from from crevices of my mind, but I'm glad that it did. I am constantly wrapping myself up in the little things – from the comparison of my surroundings, to where I'm going to be in six months when my show closes, all the way down to that thing I said to a coworker the other day that may have been funnier in my mind than it was out loud. And I slowly started to laugh to myself because, at the end of the day, I have very little control over the timing of my life. God, the universe – whoever or whatever you believe in – has a finite plan that rarely lines up with when exactly we want things to go our way. So why am I putting so much pressure on myself at twenty-five to be the best at everything, or be at the height of my career, or have myself completely figured out?

Our twenties are about discovery. Hell, life at any age is about discovery. My interests, my beliefs, my expectations, and my world are all slowly evolving as I grow and learn each day. I need to start consistently practicing the philosophy I preach. I need to stop wondering and start wandering. I need to bring my ideas to fruition. I need to embrace new intrigue now, while I'm young and vivacious and living in the atmosphere of a wild city that is filled to the brim with possibility.

I will thank myself later.

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