My ‘Smithstory.’ (Unabridged.)
It’s supposed to be like ‘history.’ Or maybe ‘mystery.’ I don’t know. It sounded like a good idea in my head. What follows is a bit more about me; my turbulent but seemingly typical life as someone with grandiose dreams and a wavering means to achieve them.
Hi there. I’m Todd. Here’s what I look like + cat:
UPDATE ⚠️ Who I am now (2019):
I rather enjoy what I originally wrote here, so I’ve decided to keep it (below), even though some things are outdated. That’s where this update comes in. Pretty clever, right?
I’m 28 now. I live in Seattle, and I’m missing Buffalo when I never thought I would. I’m a bit less high on life, I’m lost, a tad cynical, questioning, reevaluating, and I’ve lowered my rose-colored glasses. (I haven’t completely taken them off; they’re sitting at a slightly lower position on the bridge of my nose now.)
BUT. Along with that, I’ve grown, I’ve experienced, I’ve pushed myself. And that was my goal. I’m still trying to find my feet, and normalize my life out here in the Pacific Northwest. I’m not sure if this is the place for me, but I think it might be too soon to tell. I’ll let you know. And now that I’ve experienced the discomforts of not home, I’m wondering if ‘home’ has always been less about the setting, and more about the people. That’s what I miss most, and my heart continues to tug me in all kinds of directions.
At the end of the day, I’m alive. The choice is mine. My life is mine, and this comforts me. But don’t worry; tinged with just a skosh more seriousness, I’m still just as sarcastic and dry as ever. It’s my coping mechanism of choice.
Thank you for coming to my ToddTalk.
Who I was at this blog’s conception (2014):
I’m a 23 year-old openly homosapien from Western New York. I have aspirations to be a professional guacamole taster, but I’ve nearly come to terms with the fact that that’s unlikely. My more pragmatic dream is to have dual careers as a musical artist and author. I think though that I’m somehow closer to accomplishing the former, less realistic goal.
I wasted a lot of time after high school by believing in that ludicrous societal concept that you’re actually supposed to know which career path you’d like to take at eighteen. I had no idea what I was doing, so I did what any sensibly naive post-grad teen would do, and I moved to New York. The concrete jungle where dreams are made of. In short, I did not find my dreams in the scaffolding or the obnoxious traffic. Next.
I moved back home after one academic year to study locally. It saved me a lot of money until I came up with my next bright idea. After a semester home, I decided to move 6 hours upstate to incredibly-rural Potsdam, New York, where I went on to study for a whole month and a half. I then realized that the only reason I wanted to attend SUNY Potsdam was because it was quickly referenced in passing in an episode of Will & Grace. That was in 2011. So again I moved back home, where I have somehow managed to stay put ever since.
I currently languish in Buffalo, New York, where I have a genuinely rewarding job at Trader Joe’s. Every day I meet someone newly inspiring; it has opened my eyes so much more so that I am able to let new light in and see things more progressively than I ever have before. In recent months I have become more open and interested in differing positions, beliefs, cultures, and walks of life.
I have now begun to buckle down and really try to formulate a plan for my future, because driving the same routes to the same places in the same setting is no longer stimulating, and it’s just not cutting it. Je vais m’en sortir. (I’m going to get out of here.) The current course of action which I’m temporarily in tune with is to go back to school yet again, and earn a degree in linguistics.
If you look hard enough, you can find me satiating my hunger for music by writing lyrics and crafting melodies, reading something so enticing that my eyes dry out from a lack of blinking, nose-deep in a good Facebook status and/or tweet, sleeping for an obscene amount of time, and paying the extra dollar at Moe’s for a miniature cup of guac to dip my tortilla chips in.