After all, a job is a job; it is not your life. No one is going to come to your funeral because you were a really great Auditor.

I am an easily amused city girl. I love the orange crater that appears when you open a jar of Cheese Whiz, and I could entertain myself for hours with just a Snapple lid, some bubble wrap and a picture of a Chinchilla in a tuxedo.

I also have a propensity to press the Ctrl+Alt+Delete buttons on my life every two years and rebuild myself from scratch. In my early twenties this tendency manifested itself in an inability to stay in one place. Travelling on and off for almost four years spawned a curiosity for all things new. Adventure rocked my very soul and I absorbed it into my blood like heroine; the excitement of the unknown has always been my drug of choice.

Yet I am not above the external pressures of society. There were always those omnipresent voices of normalcy that got louder and louder after each trip until finally at age 26 there was a constant ringing in my ears of, “You’re getting too old for this; time to settle down and get one of those careers everyone keeps talking about.”

So, mere days before my 27^th birthday, I started a post-graduate program in Public Relations, leading to a job in Corporate Communications for an Investment Firm.

Yes, that’s right, I went from a hut in Kenya to an office in Toronto’s financial district in just one short year.

And although for most that would be considered a success story, to me it felt like just the opposite. For two years I sat at a desk, thinking that with enough time my fear of leading a normal life would dissipate. That at some point routine and a 9 – 5 job would start to feel fulfilling rather than soul sucking.

It didn’t.

So after an unfortunate confrontation with a juicer and a subsequent five-hour meltdown last October (I’ll leave that story for another time), I did the only thing I knew how to:

I started over.

We are socialized to believe that a steady career and starting a family are the only sure-path to bliss in life, but I’d like to think that there is more than one way to live, and live happily. Not everyone has to follow the same worn-down footpath.

I refuse to accept that a necessary consequence of adulthood is the end of spontaneity and adventure.

At the end of the day, all we have in life is the experiences we cultivate and the way we treat people along the way.

Welcome to my random musings as I set out once again in pursuit of the rad life.