A new path?

Sometimes my mind like to amuse the hell out of itself by throwing a whole bunch of doubts into the melting pot that is my psyche. More often than not, it is about my identity as a blogger, and occasionally a clusterfuck of emotions about the fact that I'm frighteningly close to 30 and own more shoes than saucepans, but we'll save that one for another day.
When I started this blog, I didn't really know who I was in the blogging world, where I fit in or what I wanted to be... I guess I just wanted to be myself and write about what excited me and got my creative juices a-flowing. Everyone kept talking about this elusive, 'niche' and that I needed to have one, only I was too busy eating cheese in my pjs to nail one down. 
I've always been a lover of stuff. Call me shallow, materialistic or something else fancy if you will, I don't believe it makes me a bad person. I'm charitable and I always have time for others. I cry over the animals in my local pet shop being alone over Christmas, which is both 'endearing' (cough) and slightly concerning at the same time. I have a heart, I promise. I also have a love of 6 inch heels, eye shadow in every conceivable colour and bags in which I can lose my house keys, ID (yep, I still need it) and favourite lipstick, all at the same time. These are the things that make me bubble with excitement and as a result, these are the things that I find the words flow so easily for. 
But is this the blogger that I wanted to be?
I often feel like the sheep in the herd of alpacas. I fit... almost, but I also feel like I have so much else I want to give. The world of the beauty blogger is brimming with perfection and there's a perfectly polished post for every product known to man, and my goodness that is a damn good thing. Beauty blogs are my holy grail and fashion blogs have inspired me to rake through my 'drobes with a more refined eye that would give Trinny and Susannah a run for their money, but is there a place for little, old me in that world that I love? If truth be told, my favourite posts to write aren't about shoes or lipstick, but more those where I can be silly, drop the occasional f-bomb and make people smile, even if just for the briefest of moments. More often than not these posts don't reel in the views though. Well, not for me anyway. Forget the stats, people cry; however I often feel twinges of guilt and a fear of disappointing those that loyally read my little corner of the interwebz. Surely, the posts that generate the most interest are the posts that people want to read, or so the little mass upstairs tells me so? 
I think that in recent weeks, I have become stuck in a bit of a blogging rut. I've been taking the easy writing highway. I need to find my way back to the path that is full of twists and turns and bumpy bits that I will inevitably trip myself over. I need to write more for me. There will still be many more make up, beauty and fashion inspired posts, c'mon guys, you can't paint a zebra black and call it a horse; however you will also see an increased level of waffle around these parts whilst I figure out whatever this niggle is that has me bashing at my computer keys at 1am in my penguin fleece, feeling all philosophical. 
I may not know where the hell I'm going, but we'll sure as hell have fun along the way!