define "life"?

Okay, rewind. I feel as though in my last blog I did not do justice to all the GOOD things that HAVE been happening, and all the moments that I've been forced to stop and recognize as such. I've seen some great movies lately, and read some amazing books. Not just any movies, or any books-but ones that highlight the little moments that make up an entire life. Because sure, we all have our "defining moments" : graduation from high school, your first job, buying a house, your first words; but those big life altering moments become uniform for everyone. Most people can describe their graduation and it goes a little something like this: Ugly gown. Hat designed so it's impossible to look normal. Alphabetical order (and if you're a fellow S, the annoying wait). Pictures. Grandparents. Bullhorns. Pomp and Circumstance. the book as a metaphor for life- "NEXT CHAPTER", "TURN THE PAGE". Yes? Mine too! Because yea, graduating from high school marked a huge turning point in our lives where we marched out on our own to do whatever the next step was for us. But our lives are not about our generic moments. Our lives are about the details and the emotions and that one memory of nothing in particular that stands out in your mind for no apparent reason. High school graduation is a summation of your time there, but only barely. It overlooks that time Ashton and I snuck Vince and Bobby into my basement at 2 AM on my 16th birthday to eat cake, and ended up getting caught by my mom. It doesn't include my first kiss with my first love. It forgets to mention my friends and I crying in a friend's basement, trying to intervene in her disorder, or the time we skipped class to watch the volleyball team go to states but ended up in PetCo trying on dog cones. So even though most of us took algebra and bio, everyone's uniform graduation ceremony personally represents a series of memories that are drastically different.

It's all about putting yourself into your everyday....because your everyday will turn into your lifetime. We're always looking to the future for our next defining moment. What should our decision be? Where will we go? Am I going to be ready for this? My next one will be graduating college, I suppose. The hats, unfortunately, will be once again present, and my days at Cal Lutheran will have hopefully prepared me for that propelling moment. Now, I'm not saying that I'm going to throw my future to chance, but I won't forget that every laugh and cry shared between friends has had just as much to do with my success as my studying has. I can't prepare for life...but I can live it right now.

brains of steel

I've literally just typed out three different possible topics to run with on this blog, since it's been awhile since i've written anything. But the sad reality is that I'm completely uninspired and slightly pissed off. Now, I have occasions I could elaborate on- my mindless job in retail, too much family togetherness, our lack of interest in other's lives in general, the life changing topics in a book I'm reading- but I don't want to. My mind is rapidly turning to mush and I am not reaching for the emergency brake. Indeed, I have been experiencing a storm of family activities that I did not take full precautionary underground shelter-esque measures for. In the wake of these events, I have been putting up a wall to keep from completely losing my mind. 8 hour days at Pac Sun folding clothes also has not aided in snapping the synapses in my brain. I need to get back to school where there is constant stimulation and connections and...dare I say it...school ( who knew?! school at school, who woulda thunk). My mother will pout when she reads this one, and mommy I love you dearly! But your favorite daughter's IQ is dropping 10 points a day...at this rate I'll be well into the negatives come 2010, and I'm far too young to have a bed pan. Let's get this break over with.

oh this old thing?!

I have a shopping problem. No really, it's getting pretty serious. When I saw Confessions of a Shopaholic in theaters, I was the one nervously laughing along with everyone else, while really thinking...mannequins don't speak to other people?! Walking into a store gives me a barrage of emotions that I can't quite cultivate any other way.

Emotion #1: pure excitement! I'm rounding the corner to one of my favorite stores and I see it's front window with the mannequins perfectly, if not somewhat overly layered. Clothes I would never be caught dead wearing simultaneously look beautiful and cohesive. I want that exact ensemble (no I don't-where the hell would I wear that?!) But let's for a moment throw reality aside and focus on the perfection of that dress. GOD i'm excited to go in!!!

Emotion #2: overwhelmed! Now, I go from being sooo excited, to being a little scared. There are so many pretty options all around me! I have what I call my scanning eye; often useful in finding lost friends at crowded venues, scoping for hot guys, and of course taking in mass amounts of clothes and zeroing in on what I like. So I have to take a moment to freak out over the selection and then focus on bringing out my scanning eye, so I don't have a meltdown.

Emotion #3: Love! This emotion doesn't always happen for me. It's like when you go to the beach and you see a dolphin. You're like, whoa, I just saw a dolphin, that was so special! But the next time you go to the beach, you'll still have a great time, but you might not see a dolphin. But when that dolphin does arch above the water, and you find that perfect piece, there's really no other way to describe it! I feel like I was called to this perfect item-fits like a glove! on sale! adorable! Many of you reading this may recall a certain skirt that I fell in love with around my birthday. It was a Kimchi Blue high wasted pinstripe skirt with all the right details, down to the cotton covered buttons up the side. This skirt was made for me by the skirt gods, and we would live happily ever after together...until I got chocolate on it. I felt like a loved one was injured. My poor skirt, you did nothing wrong, and I was careless with my birthday cake and hurt you! After a careful hand wash with Resolve, my skirt soulmate made a full recovery...but still, I felt like I had betrayed a good friend.

Emotion #4: disappointment! I suffer a huge blow when I find something that I'm sure will be the equivilant to something like my skirt soulmate, and it turns out to be all wrong. Too big or worse-too small! Too expensive, too many defects, too baggy, too weird, too all wrong!!!! I thought this was it! I was all in, and it let me down.

Emotion #5: greed! My inner mantra while shopping: "I need this". These pj pants, this flowy shirt, these leggings, those boots, that jacket...the list goes on. I get so emotionally attached to these items that I start to believe that my life will actually be better with them. I envision a small scenario in my head: upbeat music starts playing and in I walk wearing those to die for riding boots with a girly skirt and tucked in oversize tee. A faceless, but extremely attractive guy (? i don't know how it's possible, it just happens...) notices my effortless looking style, and leaves that other faceless, but extremely attractive girl to come talk to me. Obviously, these scenes actually do play out around 2-6 times a week...I know a lot of facelessly attractive people, but I should still be practicing a little more self control. .............nah.

Emotion #6: Triumph! I feel a sense of accomplishment and pride after I've purchased something. I wear it as soon as I can...but after I do, it almost always loses it's charm. Either that or it's so unique I have to wait at least another 3 months to wear it again. It's not really about what I bought though, or how much I'll actually wear it. I love my clothes like my friends or my children because they're the physical manifestation of my taste-which is a reflection of me. Each connection I build with a piece in the store and in the dressing room is emotionally charged.

So maybe I'm shallow, or maybe I have a serious problem that will require years of psychotherapy and credit card swiping withdrawl...or maybe I just love to shop, and there's nothing wrong with that.

don't prepare

Anyone who knows me even a little bit know that I love a plan. I started reading this book made up of maxims to live by that a friend lent me. I read the book twice through on the plane home, fascinated with every concept, and a heightened sense of wanting to be rising. Wanting to be what? More. Better. Free-er. Livlier. Patient. Wanting to feel alive in every inch of my body. So on the second read, I started taking notes and just writing down things that struck me. Tonight I'm once again flipping through the book, and there are so many grabbing and moving ideas, but I keep coming back to the second maxim. Don't Prepare. To me, that's like saying, hey, let's jump out of this plane and leave our parachutes here. The book says, "We often substitute planning, ruminating, or list-making for actually doing something about our dreams." I think back to all the times I've daydreamed about this or that...or made in-depth lists to find that all of my time has been spent writing it, and no time acting upon it. I am so centered around my plans that if something strays off course, my day is altered negatively. I'm setting myself up for disaster, but planning and lists are my safety zone! The book suggests that the space outside your safety zone is actually the best place to live. When we substitute attention for preparation, we get to live right now; responding to each moment as it comes. There's an exercise in this chapter that asks the reader to envision a box...ok. Mine's shiny yellow with pink ribbon. Yea, it's kind of ugly. Next we have to shake it and open it...what is it? First, I blank. Then I start to absolutly panic! Images of what it might be race through my head, but I can't think of anything clearly and I'm starting to get nervous. Quick! Pick something! At this point I'm devastated because this proves just how plan-oriented and closed minded I am. So I shut the book and put it down for an hour. When I come back to it, I vow to myself that I will clear my mind, and allow it to wander where it will. The suspense in opening this imaginary box is killing me! What could it be?! It's a toaster. A TOASTER?! Is that normal? Shouldn't I want like a pair of Christian Louboutin heels or keys to a new car? Apparently, I really want a toaster. But that's okay because I'm beyond thrilled with myself. I am a vast and deep abyss of unique knowledge, and it's time I trusted my moment to moment instincts.

Tomorrow I will go with what moves me, no plans included.

final daze

Finals are a fun time, aren't they? I've been so incredibly sleep deprived that it's a wonder my organs are still functioning. In my quest to stay up at all hours of the night doing work, or attempting to...I've consumed mass quantities of caffeine. In the midst of all this drinking I seem to have swallowed the filter on my mouth. Sure, it's always been small and the holes in the sive extremely large, but without it, I am a real piece of work. Thursday I used the phrase "sucking on the teet of annoyance" in a sentence. ..in broad daylight. I should be locked up, or at least have a muzzle. I'm actually a little afraid of what I might say next, seeing as how it's really not up to me.

Yesterday I got out of the shower and could not find my hairbrush. The first thing I did was sing the Hairbrush song from Veggietales...naturally. Then I started to feel a rising panic in the pit of my stomach headed north toward my chest. Who displaced this extremely necessary accessory?! It certainly wasn't me, I'm as fit as a fiddle. So I decided to think back to the day before's shower routine and try and map out where I might have placed it...or more importantly, if I could remember someone scaling the side of the building to the second floor in the middle of the night and stealing it. The latter of course being much more viable since I am so on top of my life lately. duh. I looked for any clues that might point to an intruder, and i realized that my room was in complete disarray! OMG someone DID break in! This place is a mess! Clothes are scattered, books everywhere, valuables overturned! It took me a second to connect the fact that I in fact just tore apart the place in the past 4 minutes during my panic. So no intruder. I started calling up memories of showers past, but couldn't place the days in the correct order, so I moved on to the next obvious step: yelling profanities. I really can't remember the last time I snapped the way I snapped yesterday after my missing hairbrush. Just ask my roommates, I think they were 2 seconds away from grabbing a straightjacket. (yes, grabbing...who doesn't have a spare straightjacket lying around?!) After 45 minutes of screaming and tearing my room in a million pieces all the while in a towel, I found the damn thing on a dresser. Weirdest place ever, I know. Instant relief. I calmly sat down in the living room and brushed out my hair like the whole thing never happened. I went about my business yesterday, chugging caffeinated beverages along the way, and went to bed later than anticipated as always. This morning I had a terrible discovery, though--someone must have broken into my room my last night....

memory lane

I called my grandma today because it was just one of those terrible, awful, no good days, and I needed to hear something real. Usual topics with my grandmother are centered around food, school, the weather, and food...and why your plate isn't cleared. So today I asked her to tell me about growing up in New Orleans and what it was like to be at Mardi Gras in the 50s. Instantly her speech slowed and her Louisiana accent became thick and she started to tell me about the balls where she and her friends would dress in gowns and sing for the rich. She told me about the fried doughnuts they would eat in the streets and how boys would soak themselves in grease and chase her friends around. Her images were of a time that I've never known-a time when a girl could walk the streets of New Orleans alone and never be bothered, and a time when the celebration was centered around our Cajun culture, good food, and great company. She was born in the city, and her parents spoke French to her as a child. Her father made his own beer during prohibition in their backyard shed, and she can still remember the bottle caps popping on their own inside. But at age 5 when she found her mother dead on the bathroom floor, her father moved her and her sister to the suburbs. They owned a general store where people came and bought food out of wooden barrels-her job to measure it out. Her family moved back to New Orleans when she was 11 and she embraced the city life. As she was describing away her teen years filled with movie houses on Canal St. and the street cars they took to the beach, I asked her something I'd never thought to ask before. How did she meet my grandfather? It's funny how you can know people your entire life and never think to ask about their defining life moments. She met my grandfather on a steamboat at a dance when she 18. She said he asked her to dance and she never got rid of him. He was in the Navy, and about to ship out to finish his duty, but before he left, he promised my grandma he would marry her. She told him to go home, and that she would not end up marrying him, he was crazy. But a year later, he bought a car and drove from Pennsylvania to New Orleans, found her, and proposed. She said yes, and the rest as they say is history.

How beautiful. What a stunning and free life story. I feel like my life is a bowling lane, but I'm lucky enough to have bumpers to keep me from falling in the gutter. But even so...my life seems so planned out and so by the books. It's narrow and straight without spontaneity. School is stretching as far as I can see in both directions, because without it, you have nothing. My grandma lived a life that is not possible to live anymore. We crave money and are so set on finding happiness, that when we do, we convince ourselves that there must be something even better out there, and we leave to find it. Life has become too dangerous...or maybe we're all just too afraid. My great grandfather passed a valuable lesson to my grandma-that all that matters is who you're with and that you're sharing and celebrating and loving together for no apparent occasion...just because you can.
So call the people you love and ask them about the things that made them who they are...because they've helped shape you too. You don't need a reason...do it because you can.

food for thought?

I'm sitting on my couch Indian style with my computer on my lap, and I have all these emotions and thoughts pumping through me. The only problem is that they're moving entirely too fast for me to catch. I had every intention of sitting down and writing the next great piece of literary wonder. People would read it and laugh and cry and between sobs or chuckles, gasp, "oh Skelly...she's a literary genius". Instead I'm eating Raisin Bran Extra pretending that it's actually good. But really, who are we kidding, Raisin Bran is a boring cereal, preferred by prematurely balding men in their late 30s and housewives between the ironing and the vacuuming. I'm thinking that the averageness of this breakfast food is seeping into my brain and affecting my ability to produce worthy thoughts. Tomorrow I am only eating exciting, thought-provoking, intelligent, chatty foods. I'll let you know when I figure out what that is.

my reminder to myself

What happened to just getting to KNOW someone? Our generation puts so much pressure on the relationship and naming it and keeping it in a cage and cuddling it so that it dies prematurely due to suffucation. What's wrong with just keeping a steady pace and being friends first? I too am guilty of wanting to jump the gun, but only because it's beaten into me. Everything moves too fast. Everyone's at a full on sprint, like life and love is a race to the finish line. Meet, lust, date, force relationship, boring lull, fight, break up, hate. Is it so terrible to want to be old fashioned and understand and fully appreciate the person I'm with? The real me is introverted, self aware, self respecting, and shy. I feel all around me the growing trend of skanky sex pot, but I have no desire to compete. Then I see the army of hoes with boyfriends on their arm and look at my own arm which is surprisingly lonely...and yes, you guessed it, my arm is attached to my body and therefore all of me is lonely. So what to do?! I am happy with myself, so I'll wait to find a guy who is equally as happy with the girl who hides behind her camera and thinks she can talk to dogs-- because that person will be worth it. They just have to take the time to figure me out themselves...and once they do I just have to hope they are a similar breed of crazy. So let's slow down our sprint and take a walk and enjoy each other. We have time.

this that and the other thing

I have nothing in particular to rant or rave about tonight, but it's 1:30 AM and I can't sleep. so here goes my thoughts from today.

-old people always assume you're freezing, and feel the need to tell you. "you must be freezing! why aren't you wearing a jacket?!" maybe because i'm NOT freezing. thanks for you concern
-when it IS freezing, I always want fro yo.
-the build up to something fantastic happening is so much better than when it actually happens...because then it's over.
-mochi is the most delicious thing ever created. thank you, japanese people
-this list has a lot to do with cold things.
-people who write blogs are fucking crazy. i'm sorry mom for my language but there really isn't any other way of describing them. I just scrolled through some and found anything from ghost hunters to 2012 pessimists to people who worship this hill in Massachusetts. ya. a HILL.
-obviously if people of blogspot had to choose a president, it should probably be me seeing as I'm the most stable. That, my friends, is saying something.
-What is the point of dog shows?? Dogs are dogs...and I love how they decide when a new breed can be added to the AKC list. It's like adding the word bootylicious to Webster's dictionary. The whole thing makes no sense to me.
-i'm so tired that i'm writing about dogs. maybe i should try this sleep thing one more time with feeling....

back to the stone ages

Today I proved that it is possible to survive without my Blackberry and Facebook. Along the rocky path, I learned a few things. Let me take you through my day.

7:45 AM- My Blackberry automatically turns on for my alarm, I wake up, turn it off, and shove it in my desk drawer where it will live for the day.

9:30 AM Lesson 1: cell phones make you lazy
On my way back from the gym i run into Lindsay who asks that I call her before I leave for our class. When the time comes to leave, I realize I CAN'T call her! Panic. What am I supposed to do?! the girl lives on the 3rd floor. I think through some possible alternatives to walking. I could borrow Megan's phone- NO! I will prove to myself that I can do this without anyyyy phones. Option 2 involved throwing a rock at her window. "oh fair Linds, whilst thou join me to class?" No again, I will not let this turn me into Romeo. I walk.

10:05 AM - I am late to class. I should have bought a watch before this experiment.
Throughout class I catch my hand frantically searching the empty phone pocket in my bag.

12:55 PM Lesson 2: I hide behind my phone.
I'm supposed to meet Kbell at the caf at 1 and I'm a little early so I sit down to wait. Now, I've sat alone at the caf before, and I'm never bothered because I'm usually absorbed in a web page on my phone or talking to my mom. But now that I'm sitting here without it, I feel naked. Five different people ask if I'm okay- Oh I'm fantastic, just completely cut off from society, don't worry about it. People can see me?! Weird.

1:05 PM- These last 10 min=10 hours. She's late. What if she can't make it? I'll have no way of knowing! And those last 5 people will think I made up this "friend" I'm waiting for. This sweater I'm wearing is not helping. At least if I looked good people might let my loserness slide. I wish Kbell hadn't bailed on me. Oh. She's here...and only 5 minutes late.

Lesson 3: cell phones make you skittish.
As the day progresses, all I hear are cell vibrations, and I jump out of my skin to see if it's mine...yea, the one i don't have.

Lesson 4: Texting makes you paranoid.
the "did-I-d0-something-wrong?" texter: Uhhh, Skelly...so ummm...did you happen to maybe um like...get my text?
the hostile texter: SKELLY WTF I'VE BEEN TEXTING YOU ALL DAY, WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM?!
the annoyed texter: Way to NOT help me out with my homework question. I texted you like 2 hours ago. geez.

3:15 PM - I start to lose it a little. I can no longer distinguish between what I'm allowed to do and not allowed to do. I see a coke sitting in Bobby's room and think, gee, I would kill for a coke, too bad I can't have one. What am I talking about? of course i'm allowed to drink a coke...coke is completely unrelated to Facebook and my cell phone. Bobby starts to Skype so I leave to go light some candles and finish my homework in quill and ink. Again, confused with the goal.

4:00 PM- I decide the best way to pass time is to take a nap.
6:30 PM- Shit. I slept 2 and a half hours because I didn't have my phone alarm to wake me.

It's now 11:06 PM and I've been focusing on studying for my French test all night. Just 54 minutes to go and I think I can do this! What I thought would be a relaxing day away from constant conversation turned out to be the opposite. Knowing that I did not have the ability to have instant connections with people if needed increased my stress by 207%. And that's a scientific fact. I wish I could say I'm so above all of this technology crap, but really, I'm the biggest sucker of all.

our deafeningly silent lives

Today I realized something that I already knew. Is that possible? Whatever. The point is that I am going to make a point to change it. My Blackberry has become a permanently attached appendage, and my health insurance does not cover cracked display. Our cell phones are our absolute life lines. I find myself wondering how the hell anyone ever got a boyfriend before texting and God forbid you ever get lost while driving and had to resort to one of those map contraptions. I have no idea how to read a street map. I suppose it has something to do with evolution, that knowledge is now obsolete and soon we'll be scoffing at GPSes. So not only has cell phones made us completely inept at simple tasks like reading a map, but we are socially backwards because of them too! I text people sitting 2 feet from me sometimes...and you know you've done it too! A text allows you to say something without actually saying it. we gauge our relationships on these tiny messages made of 100 characters and the length of time it takes to receive one.
-"IT'S BEEN 12 MINUTES, WHAT THE HELL IS HE DOING?!"
-honey, he's probably just brushing his teeth, or at the gym, or performing CPR on a senior citizen
-but he ALWAYS texts back right away!!!!! obviously he hates me.

see?! instant destruction. we walk around trying to reach out and connect, while in reality we're saying nothing. SO tomorrow I am going to turn off my phone and turn off facebook and be free for a day.

i might go crazy :)

just north of the mason dixon line

I'm so refreshed and energized after a week away from school, California, and all the mixed up crazyness that seems to build up. Being home was amazing. People at home know you unlike anyone else in the world. You don't have to explain yourself, they can read your face. I hadn't seen a lot of family and friends in about 3 months, and some even longer, but it was like I never left. My little town with no traffic lights hadn't changed-with the exception of the leaves being on the ground and the air bitingly cold. You know that feeling when you're little and you fall asleep in the car and you can feel your dad pick you up to take you inside to bed? That's what going home feels like for me-maybe a little less groggy-but I can drop my defenses and let the familiarity cradle me. I never would have guessed that someday my favorite place in the entire world would be New Freedom, PA. I was so eager to leave and become someone. What I didn't know was that Pennsylvania had already made me the only someone I'd ever need to be, and it took leaving to realize it. My close knit community of neighbors, congregation, teachers, relatives, parents, and friends' parents raised me, and I'm so blessed to have had that as a constant my entire 20 years.

the sport of eating

Thanksgiving should be a time of reflection and graciousness, but every Thanksgiving I've experienced is laced with indigestion and stress. Today I woke up at 5:30 AM to make the 5 hour drive to my grandparents house. Ding! Ding! Round one. The relatives flow in and the interviews begin. You'd think California is a foreign land and I a brave pioneer for taking the Oregon Trail with Sacagawea to get there. Yes, all my westward movement references are jumbled, but so is my brain after a long day of turkey. Instead of a covered wagon though, my mode of transportation was a Boeing 757. After answering the tenth vague question about how school is going, and after my uncle's rendition of "California Girls", I reach for a large glass of wine. The food is placed as a buffet and instantly everyone in the house gains a sixth sense and migrates to the kitchen. My grandma, a true Lutheran, instructs my youngest cousin to say the "short grace", and the word "amen" may as well be the starting gunshot at a derby. With my plate in one hand and rapidly diminishing glass of white wine in the other, I'm faced with my second difficult decision of the day after white meat or dark. Where do I sit? At the kid's table or with the adults? Now that every kid is in 8th grade or older, what's the cutoff? I rationalize taht since I'm carrying alcohol, I belong with the sophisticates.

I'm normally a painfully slow eater, but when i sit down to my plate at Thanksgiving, I eat like an out of control bulimic. Conversation? What's that? I grunt half hearted yes's and no's to questions thrown my way, afraid that if I stop shoveling, it might all disappear. Eventually after second helpings I slow down and am immediatly hit with an overwhelming sensation of returning from the Matrix. Crap, I really ate all that food?! Oh, pie! And I'm back into darkness until I regain consciousness holding a plate smeared with the remains of 2 types of pie. Looks like pumpkin and raspberry...wait, I HATE pumpkin pie!? Are those ginger snaps? Of course, I'll have 3 please. My once loose jeans are now skin tight and I wonder if my friends will still love me...or recognize me when they roll me off the plane in LA. The frightening image of me at 300 lbs calls for comfort in the form of extra stuffing. But don't worry, the beer I'm currently enjoying is light.

But really, I'm thankful for so much this year, but mostly for the opportunity to be with my family for the holiday. I used to really take for granted the time I got to spend with my parents, my sister, and my relatives. I realize now how much I value them and miss them...and home. This was my first Thanksgiving in Pittsburgh without my grandfather, and I regret not taking in and cherishing every moment and holiday I had with him. Even though he wasn't there tonight at our SECOND thanksgiving of the day with the Skelly's, I felt him urging me to live for the moment I'm in and love the one's I'm with.

please be sure your seatback is in its full and upright position

I hate flying. So naturally I chose a school 3000 miles away on the opposite side of the country. Everytime I fly it starts off pretty much the same: the flight attendant comes over the intercom asking that everyone focus their full attention to the tvs for emergency evacuation information. Immediately I sit up a little straighter, trying my best to retain all the info. Frantically I look around and notice that NO ONE is paying attention! EXCUSE ME MA'AM, could you at least OPEN YOUR EYES?! Why is no one as concerned with safety precautions as I am, I wonder. I mean, there's noway I can pull off this emergency water landing by myself! Omg, wait, I missed that last part! Crap. Who's going to inflate the slide now?! Wait, we're still on the ground. Okay, breathe. I make a mental note to myself that even if we WERE allowed to secure someone else's oxygen mask before our own, I would not help that lady with her eyes closed. Her indifference is appalling. After taxing, the engines fire up and in sync, so does my blood pressure. That lady's eyes are STILL closed. How can you be that relaxed at a time like this?! If my eyes aren't open then obviously we will drive off the runway and into a ditch. At this moment I pause to acknowledge that I may have control issues-but that's besides the point because we're in the air and I suddenly feel a tightning in my chest from forgetting to breathe.

Once we're at our cruising altitude, I can usually relax until landing arrives a whole 5 hours away. On this particular flight at this time I can appreciate that the steward on the intercom sounds like John Travolta in Hairspray. Even when the woman next to me spills her entire can of diet coke on my lap, I stay zen (at least it was diet!?). It's just now brough to my attention how incredibly exhausted I am, but sleep is out of the question. I'm known to confide deep dark secrets to anyone in the vicinity of my sleep environment. Thank God that's usually just Megan who takes my blubbering about firemen and apples as humorous and endearing. But I doubt that the businessman in front of me would like to hear about my latest crush-nor do I really care for him to know. Sure, his head is 10 inches from my lap thanks to his reclined seat, but I mean REALLY-we hardly know each other on such an intimate level yet. So sleep is out. That leaves mindless tabloids, Vogue, and Cosmo to devour. Are we there yet?!

let's grow young

I am officially out of my teen years, and more than anything...this fact scares me. Gone are the days where I could blame all of my shenanigans on being a silly teenager. Now I have to take responsibility for my actions! Maybe it's not just that that's getting me anxious. I still feel 16 years old. I dance when I eat, I get butterflies around cute "boys" (men?!), I laugh at immature jokes (I crack immature jokes), I love Disney princesses, and the color pink. Are you allowed to love the color pink when you're 30?! That worries me. I still value my mother's approval above anyone else's and I still feel like I can get away with things as the baby of my family...twenty isn't so innocent. So do you wake up one day with sudden knowledge about 401 ks and an urge to pick out paint chips for the powder room? I'm waiting on this transformation to happen, but a little concerned about its tardyness. But then I think back to when I worked at the nursing home with the elderly people and the very distinct realization that everyone in the room felt 16, even though I was the only one who looked it on the outside. Maybe we're not supposed to grow up and become boring. The "grown ups" are just people who have forgotten their true selves. So I'm going to march on with my addiction to Twilight and weakness for Susie Cake and I'll never lose the sheer excitement on Christmas morning or forget how fun a girls night in with junk food can be :)

the grind

So it's 12:15 AM, all my roommates are cozy in their beds sleeping and I am sitting here trying to write an outline for my French research paper...in French no less. I have a total of five other windows up on my computer and I cannot for two seconds stay entirely focused. I can't stop thinking about what I'm actually going to do with my life. I spent the day today taking pictures of a girl for her portfolio, and it was exhilarating and exciting and the best kind of stressful. I've adored photography for quite some time now...when you use film and get to see your image burned onto a tiny negative and then you get to create it all over again onto paper, changing the light and making it into the piece of art you envisioned. It's the world through my eyes for everyone else to understand. I'd always focused mainly on objects and landscapes and expressive shots, and although I still love to find those angles and see things in a new way, I have a new found love for taking portraits. I don't have to think about it, I just see the picture happening and I can feel when the angle is right and how the light is hitting their face and it just comes together. So i got to thinking, why don't I just do this for the rest of my life? Why waste my time being anything other than deliriously happy? The answer is simple. I'm scared. Fashion photography isn't exactly the easiest field to break into and let's face it: I'm not formally trained and don't know the first thing about that kind of composition-I'm just going off my instincts.

I can envision myself at my dream job, but I can't be that daring person to take a step off my well paved path and venture into uncharted territories. I really wish I could. I've secretly envied the people who chose alternate routes to traditional college...to me, those are the people who are living life for themselves and breaking the structured life society has mandated. My heart wants to travel, learn through experience, take pictures, love openly...so my brain reels it back in to "reality". Maybe it's time to change my reality.

Come up for air

Lately, I have particularly been noticing a pattern among young people of the opposite sex. Couples walk around holding hands....for YEARS on end. Now I am by no means a cynical, jaded individual who doesn't believe in love. I absolutly love the idea of love and hope to find it one day. However, I do not believe that we as young people should restrict ourselves for a relationship. They stay in instead of having fun with friends, they give up valuable friendships because of a jealous partner, and abandon their personality to match their significant other's. My peers seem to love their girlfriend or boyfriend of the moment so unconditionally that they are blinded to the fact that the vital balance needed may no longer exist. They cling on because the other person has become so much a part of them that they cannot imagine a life any other way. Instead of using our brains, we're overcome by our hearts. Many of my good friends stay in relationships for no logical reason to the outside world. People come in and out of your life and everyone teaches you something different and changes you in some way. Because of that, dating is crucial. The person we are at age 16 is not the person we are at 20. These are the years we grow into our own person, not morph into another human, and attach ourselves like a parasite.

Then there is the person who feels like maybe something in the relationship is wrong, yet they continue to stay in an unhappy situation. There are so few things in this life that we have control over. More often than not, our happiness is in the hands of fate and the world, but when it comes to who we surround ourselves with and who we choose to be intimate with, we have the reigns. Why would you waste your time on ANYTHING that makes you question your happiness? Why ever settle for "good enough for the moment"? This moment is all we might have and it should have all of your soul in it. If your gut ever questions something, you should listen to it because it will lead you where you need to be, so if your gut questions a relationship, why would you hesitate to find what makes you REALLY happy?

Personally, I have dated many different people and have felt I've been "in love" on a couple occasions. My heart has been broken by almost everyone I've been with, and it's a painful experience. Once the pain has subsided and my heart no longer aches, I am able to reflect on what that relationship has taught me so that I can learn from it for the future. Every person feels like "the one", but taking a step away from the situation can give insight. I am blessed to have had every one of those assholes and that occasional nice guy in my life, because now I have a much better understanding of who I am and what I want. So think outside the box, people! Think outside your tiny bubble of a relationship and realize that there is a world out there.

Love at first sight?

Do you believe in love at first sight? I never really thought I did...obsession at first sight? Absolutly. Love, though, not so much. I've always pictured a cartoon with bulging eyes, his heart beating out of his chest and his jaw unhinged hanging open. Sight alone is not something that can rattle me enough to evoke an emotion like love. But something in me has shifted, and although I'm still not sure about the idea of falling in love with someone the second you lay eyes on them, I do believe that there can be an underlying, unexplainable connection between two people without ever really speaking to someone. I'll admit that I have had obsession at first sight, and I've pursued those with full force and anxiously to see what they have in store for me. But this time is different, this time I have a rising feeling in me that there could be something so right about a random person I've spoken to maybe twice. This time I'm almost too scared to make a move, and I don't want to make a move, I want to slowly learn. I'm not my usual gung-ho self, and my intuition is telling me that my shyness means something. Love at first sight. I once read that the first couple times you see someone your instincts automatically kick in and send you subliminal messages. The key is to know what to listen for, and not blow it off as silly or coincidence. People are drawn to certain other people for reasons, so when that pulling in your gut starts, follow where it leads. I'm learning to listen more carefully and to remember that if no one took a chance, none of the things that make us feel alive would ever happen. So to hell with the people who think you're crazy for chasing an instinct. When your heart is open to the world, the world will open itself to you.

TMI

I fear that I have TMI disorder. I tend to want to devulge and extract TOO MUCH INFORMATION from everyone I come in contact with. When someone asks me, "how are you?" I have an urge to tell them about how stressed I am about my French test and the fight I had with my mom that morning. This conversation could go on for quite some time depending on my current state, and so I usually try to keep it to a quick "good"-as much as it pains me. It goes the opposite way though, too. When I ask someone how they are, I really want to hear about the things in their life that are pissing them off or making them smile. I take special fascination in strangers. Oh my God how I love an airport! Bring on those layovers! I love to sit and watch everyone and I always wonder what their story is. Where are they going and why? Where's home? Taking a plane somewhere takes planning, so obviously these people are going somewhere awaited, and that is exciting to me. I suppose it's a little nosey of me to desperately want to pry into every random stranger's life story in an airport, but I can't help but feel the draw. However, this desire comes with my final symptom of TMI disorder. I have a staring problem. It's like I'm trying to read the person's mind and I can't break eye contact with their face until I have it all figured out. This is a particular problem because instead of looking away when the person feels my eyes on them, like any normal human would, I continue! Lucky for me I don't hang out with the Soprano's, and for the most part people ignore my blatant eye contact. I don't mean harm with my staring, but I like to soak in the world from a distance like watching a movie...I just forget that in this movie, the actors are um, not actors, and can see me. So all of this is seen as social awkwardness, but I like to think I'm just more introspective and deeper than everyone else.

Running

I think of my life in terms of running when things get difficult or confusing. There's a steady pace to running and a formula. One foot in front of the other, a rhythm to the way my legs move and my feet hit the pavement. The beat from my feet travel up my body and soothe my brain. when life is crazy...running is the same and running won't let me down. The road stretches for as far as my legs will take me. On hills I push myself like im pushing all the emotional pain out of my body and leaving it on the road. That's where I find peace. It's gonna be ok, just keep one foot in front of the other. Just keep your eyes on the horizon and reach for it.

the divide

I've often battled with coming to terms with my "religiousness". My parents raised me in a household where church was a constant, and the congregation my extended family. When you're little, it becomes a part of you and your weekly routine like watching your favorite show on Wednesdays, or getting up to go to school every weekday. Sunday meant Sunday school and church. It didn't occur to me to dislike it until confirmation came around, and the middle school group-think began to take over. I took such a strong disliking to church during that time-whether it was because I found it boring or too difficult to mull over or just uncool, I can't remember. Maybe all of those things. But in high school a new divide came for me where I was surrounded by people I looked up to that embraced being Christian. It was then that I first became moved by being in that environment. Although I'd like to think that I've grown since my fickle days of not being able to make up my mind about Christianity and what it means to me and how it fits into who I am; and though my mother would ache to read this...I'm still searching to find my balance. Attempting to strike that balance between what it is to be 20 years old in 2009, and who I feel like I want to be everytime I stand in chapel leaves me divided. Tonight as a sat at my school's prayer circle/worship/reflection gathering, I felt full of hope and desire to be more, to do more, to love openly, to accept God into my life because I need Him. I feel like I can do anything when I'm there in such a peaceful, true place. Then I'm back in my own reality, and there are so many different directions I'm being pulled and it's hard to hear His voice above the noise. I admire my peers who are set on their path and can hear Him so clearly. I guess sometimes I just don't even know what to listen for, and other times I don't want to hear Him at all. Maybe I'm weak to let the pressures of the world collapse my faith, and only allow it to grow where it's easy in the presence of those who understand. But while the world tries its best to knock us completely off balance, in the end what's "good" is universal- truth and kindness and graciousness. So I suppose I'll continue to strive for that and figure the rest out on the way.

modern day prince charming?

I'm just getting over the swine flu, and even though it has been one of, if not THE, worst experience of my life, being sick and unattached from any sort of social scene or reality for almost 5 days really puts things into perspective. Sometimes we get so crowded in our heads that we forget that things are a lot simpler than we've built them up to be. It's okay to move on...it's ok to drop this dude right where i have him, if i have him...and be fine. I just wish that serendipidous things happened like in movies...but unfortunately no one drops a stack of papers on the street and a gorgeous male modelesque man runs to pick them up with a witty line that happens to be from your favorite book. there are many reasons that this does not happen. One: male models do not exist in real life, they are manufactured on an assembly line. Two: if you drop a large quantity of anything, or if you just trip, you're most likely to get stares or laughs. no one actually HELPS. Three: men don't read. So as you see, the odds are truly against us. Then how are we supposed to meet this true love that exists (hopefully) out there floating in the abyss? Where is this faceless blob and how do I get in contact with him? And so we go about our day to day, keeping an eye out for this mystery man who will sweep us off our feet and into our happily ever after. We have become so accustomed to this ideal vision of what "may" happen, that we forget to make our OWN destiny! But no, to march up to someone you've admired from afar and introduce yourself isn't okay because our society has said so. There has to be some kind of connection! Do I run around joining random clubs to gain that connection? do i take extra classes? i haven't figured it out yet, but until then, i desperately want to walk up to him, a basic stranger, and announce, "I want to KNOW you".