Because no one gets very far being comfortable. And after a long while of being inevitably stifled by the all too familiar mediocrity of day to day life that comes with being sickeningly comfortable, I’ve grown bored. The kind of boredom that cannot be self-medicated with a combination of a few selected vices because it has grown chronic and severe. The kind of boredom that is awarded strictly on merit, because it takes a certain level of dedication to reach the peak, or rock bottom, however you see it, of the painstakingly predictability of life due to a prolonged residency in one’s own comfort zone.
Somewhere in and around there, as a twenty-something I’ve found myself sliding down the slippery slope of being set in one’s own ways far too early I’ve decided it’s time to stop saying “No”. Admittedly, “no” has been one of my favorite words since I entered the “terrible twos” but instead of using it in a way which works in my favor, it has naturally turned against me due to excessive use.
So instead of continuing down this dangerously unfruitful path, I’ve decided it’s about damn time I dig myself out of this hole and start saying “yes”. Because saying “no” far too often has become the main factor of my boredom and I’ve grown increasingly restless, I vow to start saying “yes” despite it feeling unnatural. If feeling momentarily uncomfortable, within reason, is the only risk in the face of a long, monotonous day to day, then it must be worth it. Because no one gets very far being comfortable and I no longer want to stay put, I begin chronicling one “yes” after another, even though the very idea of writing makes me pretty uncomfortable. Here goes nothing.