In my life so far, I' seem to have been addicted to planning. From the time that I could comprehend it, I've been trying to plan exactly how my future is going to be. Simply put, it's not working. Now, I was never one to plan for the white picket fence with two and a half children, but I did want some form of that. I wanted to go to a fancy veterinary school, graduate with awesome honors, get a great job, open my own place, get married, have a farm with all manner of smelly animals living on it. Too bad this is the real world.

Instead, I ended up forsaking vet school, went to the country's best culinary school, almost lost my mind and almost dropped out, graduated (barely) with my associate's degree in baking and pastry (useful, right?)and then got engaged, moved around a bit, got unengaged and ended up exactly where I'd started the whole mess in the first place. Living with my parents, working two jobs, and going for a second attempt at schooling I know I'll never finish for a job I'll never have.

So I decided enough was enough. I've denied the fae in my blood for far too long. I feel as though I've been beating and flapping against the glass for so long, and now it's finally gone. I can just taste the fresher air, the promise of freedom. But even as I get ready to flit off into happiness, I find myself still planning; still trying to map out exactly what I'm going to do and how. And somehow I know I'll never take flight unless I give it up. So my resolution from this day forward is this: I am done planning. Let come what may, I'm going to roll with it. Very soon I'm going to disappear from many people and things I've known and loved for a long time. I'm sorry to them, but I have to follow the hint of freedom, it tastes like a field of wildflowers in late spring, and who among us with our gypsies souls can refuse it?