It begins.

I am a sucker for self improvement. I have tried too many new things, adapted way too much to Northern culture shock, had innumerable writing projects, and have pinned entirely too many “do it yourself” ideas on Pinterest to not recognize that I am ALWAYS trying to make myself into a better person.

But what have I really been looking for in Mitch Albom books, pinterest boards, and constant self degradation reflection?

Honestly, it's happiness.

If you haven't read Gretchen Rubin's book, The Happiness Project, this may be the point where you are now concerned for my emotional well-being and you just want to bake me some homemade cookies as you mutter to yourself, “bless her heart.”

Believe me, I am not depressed. I am just unsatisfied.

There comes a time in the life of a writer where she knows that what she's writing has been said a thousand different ways a thousand times before—words filled with rich, cliché centers. So many authors have said it much better than I have. I'm just scared to keep writing because what I have to say isn't new, and because of that I don't know if it has any worth. But projects and quests for happiness have to start somewhere, even if it's at the bottom of the barrel, hoping you can shoot for the moon and land upon the stars, and maybe kill two metaphorical birds with metaphorical stones along the way.

So I hope you understand, but all I'm really left with is to just carpe diem the hell out of this.

So this is my next writing project. And here it goes.