here, the story

On Tumblr, I’ve made one big mistake: starting this blog as a secondary blog. After a little bit more than two years, ignoring the red signs, I’ve realized a secondary blog is never as good to use as a primary blog.

Therefore, I switch.

I made an (almost) identical copy of this blog on a new URL and on a different account, going for a fresh start. I will keep the original Here, the story live for a while, copying old content and placing it freshly on my new Here, the story.

Thank you all for liking and following. I hope we can continue this journey together.

It’s a simple matter of self-control. Or so I keep telling myself. The result of consequence, of doing what’s best, of taking the high road. Got any other clichés? Probably all true.

I don’t generally consider myself as someone who’s in desperate need of self-control. I live pretty consistent, tend to stand by my self-imposed principles, know what I like and don’t. I’m also reflexive: I overthink what I do and where things lead to. This means I am a little less spontaneous than is sometimes good for me or the people surrounding me, but I know my flaws. And when people point them out, I try to actively change them.

While trying to high-road consequently through life, it’s hard sometimes not to slack and let go. To just let some things be and live in the moment, not thinking about what comes after. After, I often look back and think to myself that I haven’t made the right choice. Future-me always seems much wiser and as a by-product also sadder than current-me.

Confession time: when I feel bad, I write.

Confession time: most of the time when life is complicated, I am the one standing in my own way. And lately that has happened too often.

The best way to start a new post is probably not by starting negative. But I also need to vent before I can turn over a new leaf. An new old lead that is. 

I have my own apartment now for a little over a year. Including the time I’ve lived in Paris, I clock into 18 months of living on myself. And in that time, I haven’t taken care of myself in the best way, I suppose. Not mentally or living standard-wise, but on the physical side. A few years ago, I called myself a fitblr: I exercised for five times a week. Everyday I cycled to and from work for thirty minutes in total. I went walking three quarters of an hour during my lunch break. All-in-all, I was at a physical high and felt and looked -at least in hind sight- amazing.

But now, not so much. Slowly I’ve come to terms with the fact that my will to exercise isn’t as high and the following result that I’m not in the shape I was before.

I refuse to accept the mental state I’m in right now though. I am a firm believer that change works when you believe in it and also that hard work pays off. Focusing on just my career isn’t enough. My career trajectory is steadily rising, and my recent new job only proves to me I’m on the right track. Outside of work I find myself lacking. 

I think and believe it’s possible to do more: I should be able to walk more, do more, read more, write more (even when feeling good about myself in general), practice my French more: it just requires focus.

All the great example I see on internet everywhere are like fuel to the fire that is slowly starting to burn inside myself again. I see so many people on Tumblr and elsewhere not just following their dreams, but making them a reality and working for their goals. 

A couple of hours ago I was in the gym, contemplating as usual. I have some mental drafts for a couple of blogs I like to write, starting with the first one again on Sunday. Because I also have to accept time is limited. It should be spend more efficiently. But at least I have new goals to work towards.