10 months have passed since I lined up my new year’s resolutions and decided to get my shit together for the new year. I’ve travelled less than I’ve wanted to, I’ve ate more than I should, and it’s taken me about 10 months to finally live a (semi) healthier life. I switched from beer to wine, if you’re wondering.

I still haven’t started studying for the GMAT, I haven’t focused more on blogging, and I’m still binge-watching tv-shows. It’s actually pretty great, I’m almost on season 9 of Curb Your Enthusiasm.

The most productive thing I’ve done this past month is finally find this Grateful Dead tshirt I was looking for, have a panic attack at the airport (not exactly an accomplishment, but still worth mentioning), and casually date this guy I sorta, kinda, really like.

Anyone have any great advice for getting your ducks in a stupid row. Because it’s not really working out for me. Although I’m not complaining. Living a worry-free and unreasonably lazy life is fantastic and all.

Four months ago I thought I’d be going to grad school, graduating, moving to Peru, and spending the rest of my days with the person I thought I was madly in love with. And then things ended, but I’m not at all sad about it. I’ve decided to be selfish and lazy and not give a damn for a little while longer.

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