seeking traces of stray musings.

I must be hitting some sort of quarter life crisis.

Looking at my New Year's Resolution of 2014 right now I would say I am most proud of myself having read 14 books so far this year, four more than the intended minimum of ten. Having moved away from home in Sydney to Hong Kong a year ago, with all those dreams and aspirations on building a career on what is supposedly my passion, I am no longer sure if this is something to be proud of.

I turned 25 this year, and recalling the thought as a child that I wanted to get married by 28 and have children by 30 is nonetheless daunting, but still struggling with the age old question of "What am I doing with my life?" is on a whole different level.

To this day, I am still having such identity crisis as "What am I known as?" I am somewhat artistically inclined, as I'd like to think, but I am in no way the Painter, or the Musician, or the Intellectual. I am probably Nice, which is nice, or Funny, but not quick-witted enough to be deemed a Comedian; or not excellent enough a wordsmith to even firmly call myself a Writer. I know a bit of everything, but I excel in none. But the worst of all is my lack of temperament to carry things through. 

I am thinking of changing jobs. I am beginning to feel maybe certain passions are best left as hobbies. I feel lost. I want to travel and perhaps proper get lost in this world. I want to see the world. I need money to see the world. I feel uncertain. What happened to embracing uncertainty? Have I grown too comfortable in this stagnant state? 

Is youth wasted on the young?