A phoenix, according to mythology, is a bird that would set itself on fire, and emerge from the ashes to start a new cycle of life with a renewed youth. I like that, especially since I just moved to the greater Phoenix area a couple of months ago. The possibility to use this metaphor is so spot on and so cliche, I can't help but embrace the cheesiness of it all.
Hello, my name is Lisa, and I have become a phoenix. I have embraced the funereal pyre, and am emerging as something better and brighter.
To borrow a line from my beloved Bridget Jones: "The way l look at it, in everyone's life, there's a certain amount of shit." I couldn't agree with you more, Bridget. It would be incredible to let go of all past burdens and try to start over. My 25th birthday is looming just around the corner. It's about time to get out there and be the kind of person I've always admired from a distance, the kind of person who can go out and make anything happen, and have fun no matter what.
Let's go.
