Purpose

Trying to figure out purpose. I can't even describe what it is like, because it is too frustratingly difficult to discover. What exactly is my purpose, besides being a beacon of light setting good examples... I want to be happy. I want to live a happy, purposeful life. I want to make a difference to someone and see light, almost, beam from people's faces. I want to make a difference to myself. Is there something that I can live off of, that enables me to be happy and make a difference in someone else's life, including my own? What is it exactly that I want to do, what do I want to achieve?

To be honest, I have no friggin' idea or direction. I almost feel as though I should wait for it to fall in my lap, but after many discussions with my husband, it could but shouldn't fall into laps that easily. Everything has a purpose, and is driven by someone. There is a reason that people are successful, and some are truly happy with what they are doing. I have been spending moments here and there to take a break from a monotonous task, to explore adventurous job options. I looked up the National Geographic website, and saw all the beautiful photos that photographers have taken in the wild. That seems like a dream to just enjoy the world and photograph it. It's in a way like clipping out a piece of history. I suppose that it would satisfy me to try that out, take some photos, and have direction by taking them. Suppose I will try that, I would be more interested in action shots of animals or humans, I suppose they are both the same. I want to be intriguing, I want someone to want more of what I can offer.

I've thought about the flight attendant jobs, a gal from High School is going all over the place and looks incredibly happy. I know I shouldn't judge a photo by its photo? But seriously, who could be unhappy stopping in Aruba? That is so cool, and I am SO happy for her! Considering if I could do it though, I think I would miss my husband too much. Sure there are perks on tickets, but there are rules and fine print to those and it wouldn't be entirely possible to have him join me every time I fly out, it's not realistic. But is this an excuse? I suppose it's the same excuse I would use if I decided to join the military. I've thought about that too and seriously considered it, but I would miss him too much. Am I making the right decisions here? Am I too worried about missing my husband's touch, that I don't go out and do things that I want to try?

I can keep coming up with excuses, I can keep giving myself tips and ideas to try something new, but when I can't go out and implement my ideas and inspirations, what kind of purposeful life is that? Being too scared of change. It cripples my being, my soul, yet I still let it rule my life.
 
I will go home and take a walk, while on my walk I will take 5 action photos, I will take my time, I will bring my journal and find a spot to reflect on my walk and any thoughts that came up.
Happiness = Adventure  

Shy Pooper

Ladies really have the biggest struggle when it comes to pooping in public. Well, not in front of strangers blatantly out in the open or anything, obviously... but using the facilities in a public restroom, no matter where it is at, if you have to poop as a woman, you are simply just fucked.

If this is a male reader, and this is news to you, you're welcome.

However I feel the need to stand up for the ladies, whom like myself, are shy poopers.

It is incredibly frustrating to have to poop while you are out and about, either at your job, shopping, traveling, etc. It's like this judgmental place and isn't "lady-like" to poop when other women are simply using the restroom to urinate, wash their hands, or just fix their overall appearance... It is a place to gather for women, not to necessarily use the restroom, but to just be there to look at themselves in the mirror it seems like. Of course I have done my fair share of all those things, but I also have been there occasionally when women just don't give no fucks, and are dropping the cosby's off at the pool freely. I think to myself in those instances, how freeing that must be to not care if others hear them pooping, or how stanky it is. I don't ENJOY them doing it, but in a sense, look up to that stall they are in and how they are liberating women everywhere!  

Men seem to have it so easy, they don't care if their fellow men are shitting, why can't women do the same?

Maybe I am the only one who has this problem, being a shy pooper.