Steph Not Stephanie

I’ve been a little all over the place lately, for a variety of reasons. It felt like I lost my path a bit. I could see where I was veering off, and I knew where I wanted to be, but I just couldn’t quite find my way there.

The past week or so I’ve begun to feel more like myself. From an outsider’s perspective, it might look a bit insane different. I got two new tattoos last week (one I’ve been planning for quite a while, one a bit more spontaneous), and I cut off all my hair (Note: I had short hair to begin with). Now it’s full Mia Farrow (and I fucking love it). I’ve also signed up for a bunch of courses; I’ve really recommitted to this running thing; and after saying I wasn’t going to rush headfirst back into the Toronto dating scene, I now have a date lined up with an Irishman for Friday (at least I think so, from what I can decipher of his texts. Holy slang, Batman). I hope my liver survives.

I’ve seen the looks on people’s faces when they add up all the change, and I know assume what they’re thinking: this girl is being super impulsive. It’s true, I am … but that’s my comfort zone. Way back when, I wrote about how being impulsive is my jam. I quit my job to start my company with frightfully little planning; my decision to go Korea was rather hasty; and I’ve always gone through phases where I’ve craved change – and given in to said cravings pretty damn quickly.

My impulsivity has birthed some pretty awesome things (like my biz), as well as some tragically comedic blog posts (meeting the guy who swore at me on the street was rather impulsive). I honestly could not tell you what’s coming up next. Regardless, I’m glad I’ve found my way again, especially since I prefer when I don’t know where I’m going.