My blog has no meaning.
The other day I thought to myself how much I'd love to start a blog, but I quickly realized I was missing two things: something to write about and someone to write for. Do I continue posting my amateur photography? Do I write a travel blog, even though I don't really travel as much as I'd like to? Do I document all of my food escapades in New York City and critique the experiences? I lack some expertise in the area of food criticism, as well. Maybe I should just comment on unique NYC experiences in general. The options seem endless, but I still remained ambivalent.
I think what is consistent in my life is inconsistence. I can't remain on one topic or one path for too long, and perhaps I'm another inattentive by-product of our current rapidly-mobile generation. I just know I'm not defined by one thing or focused on one thing-- I'm interested in the smorgasbord I like to call life. So, unless my ambivalence about choosing a blog topic subsides, I've decided I can write about what I know. Something wonderful is bound to emerge.
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