Some advice...

... from a gal who knows she still has a lot to learn, but at least she has this much figured out.

Don't take life too seriously. Make an effort to be responsible, but remember to have fun with it.

Learn to play a musical instrument. Even if it's just the spoons. (And let's be honest, knowing how to play spoons would be awesome.)

Try new things. Especially the things you don't think you'd like.

Read a book. Or two. Or twenty. Picture books and comic books are absolutely acceptable.

Spend an hour outside every day. Even in the winter. Have a snowball fight.

Eat dessert for breakfast. The term "breakfast of champions" doesn't exist for nothing.

Smile.

That thing that you're nervous about doing? Don't think about it. Just do it. If it doesn't work out, then so be it! At least you don't have to worry about it anymore.

Embrace your inner nerd. Because it makes life more fun.

Disregard cable. Acquire Netflix. Avoid that "there's nothing on TV, so why am I still sitting here and watching old South Park reruns?" feeling and watch something good. Or, you know, go outside.

Take a road trip. Even if it's just a weekend trip to the nearest city. Make friends who live in other states and sleep on their couches. Plan a big one and save up so you'll actually do it. Bring a camera. Bring a journal. Bring your friends. And snacks for the car ride, of course.

Before you go to Target, the mall, or any furniture or clothing store, check Goodwill first. And take all the money you just saved and put it in your road trip fund.

Talk to strangers. Seriously. All the time. Start a conversation with your waitress. Tell a bad joke to that looks-like-he-could-be-cool guy in your literature class. Geek out about music to the random dude wearing a Radiohead shirt. Ask the girl at the coffee shop if she knows of any fun things to do around town.

Dance to that song that's stuck in your head when no one is looking. And then stop abruptly and act serious before you walk into a room full of people. Why? Because it's fun, and the prospect of getting caught is both terrifying and hilarious.

Take a walk around your neighborhood. When's the last time you really looked at all the things that surround your home?

Do nice things for people. Because why not?

Watch Good Will Hunting. And if it doesn't change your life in some small way, you're not doing it right.

Learn a little about everything. Knowledge is power. But more importantly, perspective is the key to using knowledge effectively.

Don't be afraid to embarrass yourself. Because really, it's probably not as big of a deal as you think it is.

Don't lie. Because what's the point of lying? Note: this does not mean you shouldn't be tactful in social situations.

Live alone. For at least a couple months, but preferably a whole year or more. You'll learn things about yourself that you never knew. You'll be able to walk around in your underwear. You'll never wonder who used the last of the milk (thus preventing you from eating your freshly-poured bowl of cereal).

Be happy. You might try to say, "you can't just be happy," but you're wrong. Think happy thoughts. Surround yourself with people who make you happy, and get rid of the people who don't. Logic your way out of emotionally overwhelming situations. Eat well. Get enough sleep. Wake up and say, "today is going to be awesome," and make your day awesome. Do the things you love. Smile for no reason. It's that easy.

Twentysomething

We are at a place in our lives where we're all just trying to figure things out. We're past the stage of total structure, with school and parents and societal expectations dictating our lives. We've come to a point where we can afford to make mistakes and sort of stumble through our own murky ideas of what it means to be happy and alive and successful.

Does success mean proving yourself by moving to a new city and "making it" there? Or does it mean finally doing what you love? Is happiness measured in the new things you discover about the world, or by the realizations you have about all the good things you already have in your own world? Or is it both?

Should we feel like failures for not diving in to the grand adventure that is impoverished life in the big city, or should we feel enlightened for recognizing that what we need right now is right here, and that the big city can wait?

Should we work long, hard hours trying to save up for a better quality of life, or should we take long, meaningful walks trying to discover a better quality of being?

We are all sort of meandering through fields of thought and indecision, hoping that something that "feels right" will jump out at us. But what about all the "what ifs" and "maybe I should haves" hiding in the grass, waiting to trip us up and bite at our ankles?

We find comfort in the fact that we are all in this together. Our paths will cross and uncross, and sometimes we will find ourselves on the same road, each of us taking turns leading the way.

But we have more than just the questions. We have youth and energy and potential. We have ideas-- some good, some laughably bad. We have music, literature, and art. We have long discussions about life and where we're going (and where we've been). We still get excited about things like Smash Bros Night and pizza for breakfast, and we are starting to learn the value of family and what it means to be responsible.

We've dreamed and dreamed and dreamed, and sometimes those dreams have come true. Sometimes they have changed or evolved or dissolved completely. And sometimes they have gone away and come back. Sometimes we go away and come back-- but this time stronger and wiser than before.

We make Pokemon references and play drunk games of Risk, but we always wake up on time to nail that job interview in the morning. We consider Kraft Macaroni and Cheese a meal, but sometimes we break out the pots and pans and make stir fry.

We start looking forward to the little things: our first breakfast in a new apartment, late night discussions about art in 24 hour coffee shops, sleeping in on the weekends. We make lists of all the things we need to do: weekend road trips, movies to watch, that-one-thing-that-you've-been-meaning-to-do-but-just-haven't-gotten-around-to-it-yet.

We tell each other bad jokes and learn to accept people we might not have accepted before. We do nice things for our friends because we want to. And some days we wake up and decide to blow all our money on video games and a lifetime supply of ramen noodles. 

We're in the happy place between childhood and adulthood, where we can still have fun but we have learned to appreciate the fun we're having.

If you had asked me a few years ago where I would be right now, I would not have predicted my current situation. And despite all that has changed, I have never felt more at peace with myself. I used to focus on whatever comes next, but I'm slowly starting to realize that what's happening now is just as important, just as real, and just as wonderful. To steal from an old cliche, it's not always about where you're going, but how you got there. And I'm getting there my own way, surrounded by the best company I could ever hope for.

Giving Thanks.

I have a lot to be thankful for this Thanksgiving. It's good to be at a point in my life where I feel this lucky.

First, there are the basic things. I'm thankful to have a roof over my head and food to eat. A lot of people take these things for granted, but I've known what it's like not to have either of those things. I'm thankful to have a job, and especially thankful to have a job that I enjoy with good people to work with. 

I am thankful for what little family I have, and that even though my mom is overseas I still get to spend Thanksgiving with my little sister.

I am thankful to have good friends that I get to see all the time and who enjoy spending time with me as much as I enjoy spending time with them. I'm thankful for pen pals, drawing buddies, co-workers, theatre friends, old friends, new friends, and all my friendly acquaintances. I'm thankful for my goofy, neurotic, charming boyfriend. 

I'm thankful for all that I have been through this year and all that I have discovered about myself.

I'm thankful for pumpkin pie, and Christmas music, and the prospect of spending cold days cuddling by the fire. I'm thankful for 24 hour coffee shops and Walmart adventures. I'm thankful for my cat, for compressed charcoal, and for my car that continues to bring me everywhere without completely falling apart.

And I'm thankful for anyone taking the time to read this right now. You are truly wonderful.

the little things.

The second sip of a good beer that you've never tried before.

Being naturally good at something completely useless.

Walking one block home at 4am after a night of nerding out.

That one time a day that you're able to breathe through your nose in the middle of a bad cold.

Starting a new job and already knowing somebody who works there.

Eating an entire bag of apples.

Instafriends.

The feel of sheets on bare skin.

Late night, aimless conversations.

The right level of drunk.

Hugging people I just met.

Wearing complimentary colors.

Being outwitted by someone who won't rub it in.

Finding out that that-movie-I-haven't-seen-yet-but-really-should is on Netflix.

When people forget that I am younger than they are.

Chocolate milk.

Postcards.

Rewatching the best episodes of a favorite TV show.

Charcoal on my hands after drawing.

Changing out of work clothes.

Unexpected sources of inspiration.

Getting a quiet person to smile.

Looking through photographs.

Getting it right the first time.

Everything in its right place.

I just turned twenty years old. (For those of you who don't know, that's very young.) This is sort of an unpredictable time in my life, but I don't think I've ever been so happy or certain or at ease.

This year has been quite a year for me. I started off in a state of absolute disarray. I was fresh out of a three year relationship. I was caught up in the excitement of being in a show, being young, and being irresponsible. For the first time in what felt like forever, I had no one to hold me accountable for what I did. It was almost Portland all over again: I was busy, I was reckless, and I was absolutely miserable.

I won't say that nothing good came out of that period of time, because almost the opposite is true. Once I began to realize what I was doing, it really woke me up to a lot of things that I had been avoiding for months and years and maybe a whole lifetime. I've always been proud of being mature for my age, but that period of time brought me down to a level that I hadn't been to since I moved out of my house when I was fifteen. The foundation on which I'd built my life had absolutely crumbled away and I was left to try to rebuild with my hands something that I'd always had the tools for before. There was no more fixing up leaky pipes and touching up chipped paint; it was an absolute demolition. 

With Spring came the panic and realization that the path I was on was selfish, self-destructive, and so far from who I was and what I wanted that I could hardly recognize myself sometimes. I started to try to undo all that I'd done in the previous months. I began to grasp the fact that I had absolutely no idea what I wanted anymore. I had no direction, so I went in every direction at once, bouncing off the walls of frustration, insecurity, guilt, and denial. I was a horrible friend. I was a horrible family member. I was horrible to myself. But I was determined to try anything I could to try to find the right path. And with that goal firmly in my grasp, I trudged forward into the early summer months.

Being out of school finally brought me down from the manic state that I was in. I didn't have a place of my own, so I felt sort of adrift... but I felt okay. I saw almost no one, and I made almost no plans. I drove home to Rochester more times than I care to think about, but the long drives gave me the time I needed to really evaluate myself and my life and where I wanted to be. I started to think about the things that made me happy and the things that didn't... the things that were important to me, and the things that weren't. I learned about letting go and about investing in things that are worth it.

But it wasn't until the very end of summer that it all came together. It took the thought of going back to school and doing something that I never wanted to do to begin with. It took a friend that I'd mistreated moving away and me realizing how badly I'd messed up. It took a serious talk with Nana about avoidance and communication. And it took seeing too much of myself in a guy who, at 22 years old, was too wrapped up in himself to take responsibility for himself and his actions.

So here I am. I'm moving forward. I'm rebuilding bridges. I'm working hard, I'm not limiting my choices, and I'm taking life as it comes. I know what I want, and I know what I need, and I know what I need to work on. I'm doing what makes me happy.

And it feels wonderful.

The key to life.

Most of the time it's easier to give up and move on than it is to put in the effort to get what you want. And sometimes moving on is the better thing to do, because it's just not worth it to kill yourself over something that might not be worth it in the end. But how do you decide what's worth the effort?

You want to be an actor. Or an artist. Or a writer. Or a filmmaker. It's very easy to say, "I would never make any money. A career in that field is just too unrealistic." And then you get a job in marketing, or become a lawyer, or you go to medical school. And then you're either miserable, or you live a happy life. (Or, more likely, you're somewhere in between.) Or maybe you get a day job and keep your acting/writing/film making/art making on as a hobby and you're satisfied or you're not.

But it's sometimes just as easy to say "fuck the norm, I'm doing it." And then you become a famous musician. Or you end up writing jingles for commercials. Or working at starbucks to pay off your student loans.

There is no right or wrong answer. Sometimes things work out the way you want them to. Sometimes they work out the way you expect them to. Sometimes the way you expect them to turn out is the way you want them to turn out. Sometimes you end up in a place you'd never thought you'd be. Sometimes that's a good thing. And sometimes it's not.

Where you end up is often so hard to predict because there are so many factors involved. How far you get in any one endeavor can depend on the amount of effort you put forth, or the number of people you know, or how talented you are, or what kind of mood you're in. Or sometimes it just boils down to chance.

But you know what all of this is really all about? What life is all about? It's about the choices you make. It's about what you decide is worth the risk.

Should you move across the country to a state where you know absolutely no one? Should you apply to art school over law school? Should you give that person you like so much another chance even if he or she has that one potentially major flaw? Should you burn that bridge? Should you take that path?

It all depends on what you want, what you value, and what you are willing to lose.

It sounds kind of romantic, doesn't it? "Are you willing to risk it all to follow your heart/head/dreams?" But you shouldn't think of it that way, because it's not that simple. Even if you decide that something is worth the risk, or the sacrifice, or the hard work, you better make damn sure that you know what you're going to do if you ever come to realize that it's not worth it. Make a plan. Say to yourself, "I'm going to give this a shot, because I'm just not ready to give up on it yet. But if I ever get to this point, then I'll know that it's time to let go."

So here I am. I've worked so hard throughout my life to figure out who I am and what I want and what I need in my life. All that thinking and all that trial and error has lead me to this point, and it will lead me further. And I've decided that I don't want to give up. Not on the big things. Not on the little things. Not on the people. Not on you. Not just yet.

A word about fellow artists, and why most of them bother me.

"All artists are willing to suffer for their work. But why are so few prepared to learn to draw?" 

- Banksy

The thing about artists is that we all think we're very talented. The other thing about artists is that few of us really are talented... and among those few, fewer still manage to work hard enough to really make use of that talent.

Of all the art forms, I think the least popular for an average person to become involved in are drawing and painting. Why? I can only imagine it's because these are fields where a certain amount of natural skill are perceived to be required. With photography you can just pick up a camera and take pictures and all your family and friends will "oooooh" and "ahhhh" no matter how out of focus or poorly composed they are. With film, even professionals can get away with poorly written scripts and bad actors. With music, anyone can simply pick up a guitar and start learning basic chords (and soon enough half the world will be playing "Smoke on the Water").

If I hand someone a DSLR and say, "Hey, go be a photographer," they'll likely go out and take some decent enough pictures for anybody's family photo album and be damn proud of themselves. But if I hand them a pencil and say, "Go sketch that man sitting on the bench," the response I'll get nine times out of ten is, "But I can't draw!"

But here's the sad truth: being able to pick up an DSLR and take decent pictures doesn't make you a good photographer. Being able to play the guitar doesn't make you a good musician. Writing a script that gets produced doesn't make you a good writer. So you see, that person sketching the man sitting on the bench may not be any good at drawing, but chances are, you're not really all that good at the art form you chose either.

Good art requires three things: practice, training, and talent. And believe it or not, talent is probably the least important of those three things. Because if you learn and practice enough, I can almost guarantee that you'll be better than most talented people who've never taken the time to learn or practice.

Now, there are obviously some exceptions. Some people are simply born very, very talented. Is it possible that you're one of these people? I guess. Are you one of these people? Probably not. I certainly don't know anyone that talented.

However, I do know some amazing artists. And how did they become amazing artists? They went to school and they spend hours on their art. I also know more people who think their art is amazing, but they either haven't taken classes or don't bother practicing. And I think to myself, really? Even famous authors attend writing workshops and do writing exercises. Even amazingly talented actors still read books on acting and attend workshops. And you're going to sit here and tell me you don't need to take any photography classes or read any design books because you're already good at it? Or you're going to tell me you took a class or two so you don't need to practice as much as other people?

People who just start out drawing and painting work long and hard to get to where they want to be as artists. People who start out in any other field have absolutely no excuse to not work just as long and just as hard and learn just as much about their art form. 

So you think your art is good now? Take some classes or workshops and then go practice for three hours a day. And then when you look back on what you're doing now you can think, "wow, I really thought that was good?"

Wanted: Best friend

Required:

• Open to spontaneous travel (weekend road trips, etc.)
• Has good sense of humor
• Able to think critically and see several different sides of the same issue
• Does NOT want to jump my bones
• Is willing to try new things
• Can be mature when the situation requires it (be honest with yourself)
• Doesn't get offended over minor issues (such as music taste, etc.)
• Able to be absolutely ridiculous/silly when appropriate
• Doesn't take life too seriously

Desired (but not deal breakers):

• Has an appreciation for art
• Not allergic to cats
• Enjoys eating delicious foods and drinking smoothies
• Enjoys playing Super Smash Brothers (any version)
• Enjoys the occasional bout of mischief
• Wouldn't mind movie and/or TV show marathons every now and then
• Doesn't have rabies
• Has an awesome hidden talent (or two)
• Doesn't mind that I have a new DSLR and therefore feel the need to constantly be taking pictures
• Can dance (OR isn't afraid to look silly while dancing)
• Will sing with me in the car (even if we're both horrible at singing)
• Thinks Anderson Cooper is beautiful (Even if you're a dude. You know it's true.)
• Isn't afraid to get his/her nerd on every once in a while

Balance

In some moments I find myself teetering on the edge of rage. My instinct it to lash out. But it's easy to forget that those we're lashing out at are people too, and most often they're only the tiniest part of a huge societal problem. We can argue and argue for ages, and more often than not those arguments only result in one or more people being offended or hurt, and one or more people leaving with a sour sense of self satisfaction.

I like to think I've found balance within myself, but I forget it sometimes when interacting with people who are driven by pettiness and ignorance. It takes a great deal of effort to keep myself from sinking back down to that level. But I'm human; a work of art, flawed and perpetually unfinished.

A meaningful dream

Last night I dreamed I was in a city (New York? Chicago? Boston?) trying to hail a taxi. It was raining, and none of the taxis were stopping, so I turned around and started walking down the street toward someplace that was dry. As I was walking, a woman roughly my age put her umbrella over my head and asked me if I knew any good restaurants. Behind her were her friends; one was smiling and laughing and telling stories, the other seemed very shy.

I led them past a super fancy Japanese restaurant. "I heard it's really nice, but it's also really expensive so I won't recommend it to you," I said. The girl with the umbrella laughed and said, "Now here's a girl who knows my style!"

I finally led them to a relatively nice, relatively inexpensive restaurant and was invited to join them. I sat between the umbrella girl and the shy girl. The shy girl didn't order any food.

"Don't worry," said the umbrella girl to the shy girl, "we'll find some place to get some chocolate after this." The shy girl smiled sweetly. I suddenly remembered something. "I know a nice chocolate cafe around here," I said. The part of me that knew I was dreaming wondered if I was in the right city, or if the chocolate cafe was just a memory of some other city I'd lived in.

I'm not sure why this rainy, random girls night out with strangers struck me so much, but it did. Previously, my dream was filled with people from every different era of my life (who seemed to all know each other, and we all lived in this imaginary city that seemed to be a composite of every city I've ever stepped foot in.) Everything had been familiar, everyone was someone I knew, and I was very happy to be in the company of all of these people... and then I was alone and the three girl strangers showed up and I seemed to accept it as part of my life.

"Do you know what the meaning of life is?" The shy girl asked after a while. The umbrella girl laughed and said, "Don't mind her, she's in a phase where she has to figure everything out." But I smiled and told the umbrella girl it was fine, and I turned back to the shy one. "I have no idea, but here's how I see it: every day should be enjoyable. If you don't have anything to do that day, go out and do something awesome. Spend time with people whose company you enjoy, and forge meaningful connections with as many people as you can." The laughing girl let out a beautiful laugh, the umbrella girl grinned at me, and the shy girl gave me a shy smile.

And then I woke up.

Home

I'm a leaf on the wind; no trees in sight, no roots to keep me grounded. Last night I sat staring at all my most useful and most prized belongings, packed neatly into a handful of bags. I thought about everything else I own, squirreled away in a ten by ten tin box with a lock on the door. I wondered what life would be like without it all. But I already know because I'm already living it.

This morning I moved my bags to a different location. As I set them down I took in the sight of the place that I knew would never be my home. It was not an unfamiliar feeling. It was not a pleasant feeling. But I was determined not to feel sad.

I was overcome, though. As the day wore on I was consumed by my yearning for some place warm and familiar. Some place filled with memories and photographs and life.

I miss the ocean. I miss taking pictures. I miss every best friend I've ever had.

I miss waking up and not having to wonder where I'll end up next.

The Plunge

It's funny how life works out. We go through waves of good and bad, easy and difficult, simple and complicated. It's never black, it's never white, just gray and gray and gray. But sometimes it's not. Sometimes it's red and blue and green. Sometimes it's magenta and silver and periwinkle. Sometimes it's rainbows and prisms and patterns and everything all at once-- and sometimes it feels like nothing.

Remember when you were a kid and you discovered something exciting that you wanted to show all your friends? "Hey, watch this," you'd say. Maybe it was that you learned how to do a cartwheel, or ride your bike without holding onto the handlebars. Maybe you rounded up enough courage to poke an angry dog with a stick while it was sleeping, or pull on your big sister's pigtail when she wasn't looking. It was always that mix of pride, doubt, and pure, sweet adrenaline. And then that huge sense of wonder when you finally took the plunge-- that was the best part. Did I really just do that? That's how I feel now.

Watch this. 

I close my eyes and when I open them I'm suddenly a businesswoman. I'm learning about accounting and income tax. About marketing and vendor's licenses and limited liability companies. I'm reading contracts and writing emails and calculating expenses.

Watch this. 

One moment I am artless and without inspiration; the next I have a camera in my hand and a vision in my head. I'm remembering all I've forgotten and learning all I never knew.

Watch this. I'm stumbling in the dark, groping for the nearest way out. I panic, I flee, I carve out a path of destruction... and with the flick of a switch I am able to see again.

Watch this. Blink, blink, and blink again. I'm a writer, I'm an artist, I'm an organizer. I'm all three at once, and all three separately. Blink again, and I'm so much more. I'm a screenwriter, I'm a photographer, I'm a filmmaker, I'm a treasurer, I'm a stage manager, I'm a marketing coordinator, I'm a designer. I build websites, I create logos, I play an instrument, I paint pictures.

Watch this. Watch as I grow. Watch as I succeed. Watch as I become everything I was meant to be and more. Watch as I do things I never thought I'd do.

Watch as I become something great.

Stream of consciousness

Today was one of those days where I realized that despite all of our rivalries and cliques and preconceived notions of each other, we're all really just looking for the same things out of life.

I went to Comfest today and did a bunch of people watching. I realized how much I enjoy finding new people who aren't so uncomfortable with silence that they feel the need to fill every pause with words. I also enjoy casual outings with near-strangers.

I sometimes assume people are being standoffish when really they're just introverted. I then feel stupid when I realize that I'm the same way, so I ought to recognize it when I see it.

I realize that first impressions are often misleading, and I appreciate when someone acknowledges that their impression of me has changed. It takes a certain amount of moxy to admit to someone that you were wrong about them.

There are many different kinds of love. Love for a friend, a family member, a spouse, a sibling, a pet... but even within those categories love is different depending on who it is you're loving. I don't think I've ever loved two people the same way.

We often dislike and mistrust people who are unfamiliar. It's a survival mechanism from back when we were more primitive creatures. I'm going to try to keep that in mind from now on.

I miss walking at night.

A word of advice to all the single ladies out there:

Find a man that challenges you. Not one who dominates you and belittles you, because you'll never love yourself. Not one that puts you up on a pedestal and worships you, because you'll never love him.

On Jealousy and Letting Go

Jealousy is a funny thing, isn't it? I feel like it isn't so much a singular feeling as it is a group of related, distinctly unpleasant feelings. Confusion, inadequacy, anger, contempt, arrogance, envy, sadness, and probably a bunch of other things all wrapped into one. The only thing I hate more than feeling jealous is feeling humiliated. The difference is, humiliation is more or less momentary and is forgotten soon enough. Jealousy can eat away at a person if left unchecked.

I think it's reasonable to assume that no one really enjoys feeling jealous. And yet so many people try their damnedest to make others jealous. And that's kind of what makes it so interesting to me. There are people out there who would never think to try to humiliate another person because they think it would be mean or they recognize that it's against society's moral code. They would never try to physically harm someone for the sake of seeing them hurt. But these same people will go out of their way to try to make someone jealous-- a feeling that is uncomfortable at best and painful at worst. It's like this passive aggressive form of sadism that we all more or less accept as a normal part of life.

I find that in most cases people try to make others jealous because they themselves are jealous. An eye for an eye, right? But making someone jealous doesn't ever seem to ease your own pain the way you'd hope it would. I know, I've been there. Everyone has been there. It leaves little more than a hollow satisfaction that departs as quickly as it arrives-- if it ever does.

In a world where we're all plugged in to each others lives via texting and social networking, it's easy to let ourselves give over to little temptations. Post a few pictures of yourself partying up with strange guys for your ex boyfriend to see. Write a blog post about how much better your life is now that whats-her-name-that-skank is out of your life. Gloat on facebook about how your team won that oh-so-important game against your rival. Mostly we got over doing these things in high school... but sometimes we slip. If we're hurting badly enough, if we're feeling ignored, or if all we want is to trade places with someone else.

Being the hugely insecure person that I am, jealousy and envy used to be kind of a big problem for me. About a year and a half ago I started reading up on Buddhist philosophy, and they talk a lot about letting go of attachment and giving into genuine affection. It seems to me that jealousy stems from unhealthy attachment mixed with dissatisfaction with oneself. 

I'm not saying I don't get jealous anymore. I do, just like everybody else. But instead of giving into all those negative emotions, I ask myself whether or not I care about the person I'm jealous of. If the answer is yes, then I allow myself to feel good about their happiness or success. If the answer is no, then I recognize that it's just not worth it and I move on.

And if you're out there right now trying to make someone else jealous, do yourself a favor. Just let go.

The Importance of Being Earnest

I hung out with Corbin the other night for the first time in a while. We went and saw Super 8 and then we made our way to a 24 hour coffee shop where we proceeded to sit and talk until 3:30 in the morning. As we talked, I started to come to a pretty unpleasant realization. The reason Corbin is such a good guy is that he's genuine. But that's not the unpleasant bit.

The unpleasant bit is that I noticed how genuine Corbin is. Not because it was an unusual thing for him, but because it was an unusual thing for me. As we were talking (about life, about school, about movies, about everything), I started to think back over the past couple of months. I thought about the various people I'd been in nearly the exact same situation with (sitting in a coffee shop, having a conversation), and how different it had been. How I was never able to relax; how I was constantly wondering what the other person thought of me, or if he or she was being open with me; how I watched what I said, and never let myself be me. And yet there I was, with Corbin, saying everything that came to my mind and actually enjoying myself.

I thought about the first time I ever hung out with Cory, and how he told me that one of the things he values in others is earnestness. "It's the opposite of phoniness. And it's no good condemning phoniness. I should just encourage its opposite." I agreed with him then, but I'd never really applied it to my own life until now.

I'm probably gonna get a lot of flak for this next bit if the wrong people are reading this blog, but it's how I feel so I'll say it anyway. The thing about the theatre department is that the majority of people who run the show (so to speak) are actors. In my experience with actors, I've found that they often put on kind of a front, even in real life. We all do, really, but perhaps being in theatre brings that quality out more so than in other professions. Or perhaps the theatre simply draws in those who are used to acting in their own lives already. I don't really know-- I'm a writer, not a psychologist. 

I'm not saying that everyone in the theatre department is that way. In fact, I think it tends to be more of a group characteristic, because on an individual basis people tend to be a lot better. But those who shun that way of social interaction tend to be on the fringes rather than in with the crowd.

At any rate, I've sort of been drawn into all of this posturing and trying to impress others business. So much so that I've forgotten what it's like to have real friends. Friends like Cory, and Corbin, and my friends from back home, and from other departments. People who are down to earth, and who aren't so afraid to be themselves. People who don't mistake friendliness for romantic interest. People who value earnestness and good naturedness and honesty. I'm ready to get all that back.

Here's a fact: the only person I have a crush on right now is Michael Fassbender. And let's be honest, who doesn't have a crush on Michael Fassbender?

Sorry to disappoint you, fellas, but you're just not as alluring as you thought you were. Maybe it's time to step your game up.

On another note, next year is going to be awesome.

Things I Like, Things I Don't Like

What a great way to procrastinate!

Things I Like:

-cats
-dogs
-guys who read books
-guys who write
-anyone who writes
-croissants
-people with big, brilliant, impossible ideas
-people who actually take those ideas and run with them
-well written film and television
-old school nintendo games
-reading
-being outside at night
-meeting awesome strangers
-good dubstep
-making lists
-raspberries with whipped cream
-cuddling
-breaking things
-superhero movies
-Cabaret (the actual musical, not the movie)
-cabaret (the style of performance)
-driving fast
-long car rides
-people who appreciate the little things
-guys who can sing
-when people tell stories about their lives
-conversations in the dark
-profound moments between two people

Things I Don't Like:

-chemistry classes
-people who are unreliable
-intolerance
-eggplant
-misconceptions and generalizations about impoverished people
-people who write shitty books and get famous while simultaneously encouraging young girls to be in unhealthy relationships (That's right. Fuck you Stephenie Meyer.)
-Inception
-playing frisbee with shoes on
-doing dishes
-those people in class who say "I agree with ____" and then repeat what others have already said.
-when people complain about their lives but make no effort to change their situation
-losing things
-any lunchable that's not the pizza kind

Back Cove

I walked a lot when I was a freshman and sophomore in high school. Portland, Maine is a pretty small city, so it was easy enough to get around without a car. I only really took the bus if I needed to get somewhere quickly, or if it was raining. It was about a half an hour walk into town. Another ten minutes or so to the pier and Flatbread Pizza and Casco Bay Lines.

I never got sick of walking. Sometimes I wouldn't even need to go anywhere. I would just walk.

Behind the apartment complex where I lived there was a park. Payson Park. Just beyond that park was Baxter Boulevard and Back Cove. Back Cove is sort of this water inlet from Casco Bay. There's a trail that goes along it that's about three and a half miles if you walk all the way around. 

I probably walked around Back Cove fifty times or more during my sophomore year of high school. I remember that winter was especially tough for me, so I'd leave home and walk the trail two or three times in a row.

I had a long bout of insomnia from eighth grade until about my junior year of high school. It was at its worse that winter during my sophomore year, so I sometimes walked the trail at night. I can't exactly describe what I felt when I walked the trail at night... the only feeling I can really relate it to is when I spent that week sailing off the coast of Maine. It was like I wasn't me, almost. I was just my thoughts. It was cold and it was dark. It was exhilarating sometimes. It was terrifying other times. During the day the trail was full of people on their morning runs and bike rides. But at night it was quiet, empty, and it was all mine.

One night my sister's dad caught me leaving the house. He asked me where I was going. I didn't answer, I just walked out the door. I remember worrying that he would follow me, or shout at me, or hit me, or call the cops or something. But I just kept walking until I reached the trail. He didn't do anything about it. In fact, he never even mentioned it again.

Another night I was picked up by a cop. He asked me what I was doing out so late. "I couldn't sleep," I said. Then he asked me a ton of questions. I don't even remember what they were. Eventually he just brought me home and told me that it's too dangerous to be out at night. I told him I understood, and that I wouldn't do it again. I walked again the next night.

It was a sort of reckless freedom that I had. During those nights I felt, more than anything, like I was on my own. In the best and worst of ways.

I stopped walking when I moved out and lived with my friend Olivia. She didn't live near Back Cove, and I didn't feel right leaving her house in the middle of the night. I knew her mom would worry if she ever found me missing. But at night I was always itching to leave. Eventually my restlessness lessened. But every once in a while, when I have trouble sleeping, I still get the urge to get up and walk. Sometimes I wait until it passes. Other times I actually do it. It's never the same as it was back then; but then again, I'm not the same as I was back then.

I had the urge again tonight, even though I wasn't trying to sleep. So I decided to write about it. And for a moment, I could almost feel the cold air on my face again. I could almost smell the tide and hear the occasional car passing. And for a moment I could feel that peculiar feeling again. The one where I'm not me, I'm just my thoughts.The one where I'm a profound speck of dust in something that's infinitely bigger and emptier than I could ever imagine.

More of the same.

I had sort of a big lack of self esteem moment today. It happens sometimes.

Naturally, I put on a pretty dress and pretended I was somebody else for the day. I even managed to make the guy at Cup o' Joe laugh at a joke that I'm normally not funny enough (or outgoing enough) to make.

When I got home, I nearly slapped myself. Why? Because I am funny enough and (sometimes) outgoing enough to make people laugh. How do I know? Because I did it. And I've done it before, and I'll do it again. And after that silly realization, I sat down and wrote this:

Alright, so I might not be one of the prettier girls, but I still have a bunch of guys chasing after me. So I must be doing something right, right? And I might not be a stand up comedian, but you don't have to be to make people laugh. I might not be part of the acting crowd, but I'm not an actor and I don't want to be. I'm a writer. And a damn good one at that. 

Yeah, I didn't go to Harvard or Yale or Columbia or NYU. But I could have if I hadn't settled for OSU in the name of love! But you know what? I don't regret ending up here. If I'd gone to one of those schools I probably wouldn't've ever ended up in theatre. And hey, it doesn't really matter what school I go to... either way, I'm going to end up in L.A. busting my ass in an agency mailroom until I get a foot in the door anyway.

And you know what? I'm really fucking smart. My IQ was tested by two different schools when I was younger, and both scores came out around 155. That's 15 points above genius. I skipped the sixth grade. I took all college courses -- and got all A's-- my senior year of high school. I can read most people like books. My memory is fantastic. My ability to learn new things is fantastic. I'm fantastic.

I came from nothing. From a poor, broken, single parent family. I've been in situations you only ever read about or see in movies or on Oprah. And look where I am now! Look what I've accomplished!

And twenty years from now, when I'm a full fledged screenwriter/director/producer and I look back on today, I'm going to laugh. Because I know that I am smart and funny and talented and at least semi-attractive. And I'm kind, and I'm insightful, and I'm open minded. And yeah, I'm kind of an asshole sometimes. But let's be real, who isn't kind of an asshole sometimes?

So here's a big old fuck you to anyone who has ever thought that I'm not good enough. Because I am.

a series of seemingly unrelated thoughts.

It's been a week filled with victories and disappointments. With hope followed by confusion followed by hope. I curse myself over and over again for not finding the right thing to say. I'm finally given a chance and I sputter out a few words and flash an awkward smile. I promise, I'm so much better when I write it all down.

The sun is starting to come out. I'm torn between waves of relief and the sense that time is running out to set it all on fire before it's forgotten. Summer is the season of all things temporary, and it's only a blink away.

It's ironic that I'll be spending the summer here. The more specific you get the funnier it becomes. 

You know that stretch of America between here and the West Coast? I've been there before, but I always wondered what I'd find if I just hopped in my car and wandered through it.

I had a feeling...

in·tu·i·tion/ˌint(y)o͞oˈiSHən/Noun

1. The ability to understand something immediately, without the need for conscious reasoning.

2. A thing that one knows or considers likely from instinctive feeling rather than conscious reasoning.

Intuition is a funny thing. How is it possible that we are able to understand something based solely on a funny little feeling that we have? Or are all moments in which intuition comes into play just coincidences?

I think we all like to think that we have a sort of "sixth sense" that allows us to just know things. Why? Because we like feeling special. We like feeling like we have some sort of edge on other people because we have gut feelings that other people don't have. But the more I thought about this whole idea of "intuition," the more I began to make sense of it. It all has to do with our brain.

You see, our brains are funny things. They pick up things that you don't remember picking up on. They have thoughts, they have fragments of thoughts, and sometimes they just take things that we're not really focusing on and they store them for later. So I think that intuition really has to do with our subconscious knowing things that our conscious mind doesn't explicitly know.

For example, I'm pretty good at telling when people are lying. I could strut around all day and attribute it to my intuition-- some inherent ability that I have to bring out the truth. Or I could use logic and say, "Hey, I was surrounded by liars growing up, and even got to be pretty good at it myself for a good while." Imagine that. I'm really not a naturally gifted truth seeker after all. I've just picked up on people's mannerisms and such for so long that I don't even have to consciously think about it. I just know (ha!).

People say I'm too logical for my own good. And maybe when it comes to emotions and stuff they're right. But it's times like these that I'm glad I actually take a moment to think things through.

I haven't really written anything of substance lately, and I'm sorry.

All at once I feel sought after and ignored. Enlightened and lost. Confident and riddled with doubt. Is it the weather that keeps changing, or is it the things that drive me, that inspire me, that lift me up and send me crashing down? For the first time in my life I'm unsure of every decision I make. I keep choosing and choosing and choosing, waiting for some sign that the choices I make are right or wrong. But it's never clear enough. It's wandering in the desert, expecting an oasis just beyond the next rise... and then making it to the top only discover more sand on the other side. Do I continue? Am I still going the right way? Was I ever? There's nothing but sand all around me, and I'm dying of thirst.

All I want to do is escape. To live like a vagabond with no home and no plan and no decisions to make beyond my next meal, my next route, my next destination. But running away won't solve anything. It will leave me hollow, unfulfilled. Always running, always searching, never finding whatever piece of me is missing. So I stay. Sometimes I choose, sometimes I think, sometimes I wait. Sometimes I speak, sometimes I listen. Sometimes I act. And sometimes I hide. But is hiding all that much better than running away?

I never expect answers to just come to me, but I always expect to find them eventually. But it's been days, and weeks, and months and I only grow more and more unsure of myself. I ask myself the same questions, day after day, trying to look at them from every angle, but finding that's they're all the same.

I keep telling myself that everything works out. Everything works out. Everything works out, everything works outeverythingworksout. This is it and that's okay.

But I'm adrift at sea. All I can do is wait to be washed up on the shore.

Instructions for Life

One day, in a moment of sunshine and magic induced clarity, I came up with these rules for life. I guess they're not rules, exactly, but they're sort of ideas that I like to live by.

1. Let's not get hit by cars.

2. The pen is mightier than the sword... but just in case it isn't let's bring a back up.

3. Everything works out.

4. Never apologize while playing frisbee.

5. All things in moderation.

They seem absolutely ridiculous. And honestly, they were kind of meant to be. See, the list itself is sort of its own set of rules: first of all, don't take life so seriously, and secondly, what you think is the most important thing may not actually be the most important thing.

So I guess I'll go through them and explain what they all mean to me.

1. Let's not get hit by cars. Easy enough: survive. Don't let something stupid (like getting hit by a car) kill you. Live through all you've gotta live through, as long as you're living.

2. The pen is mightier than the sword... but just in case it isn't let's bring a back up. This is a little more ambiguous. As a writer, this is just a reminder to do a couple of things: to write about everything, and to always be prepared to face my problems, in case I can't write them away. And also just to have a plan B in any situation.

3. Everything works out. This is arguably the most important and meaningful rule for me. Why is it number 3? Like I said before: what you think is the most important thing may not actually be the most important thing. I also like that it's at the center of the list. And it's true, right? One way or another, everything works out.

4. Never apologize while playing frisbee. For me this translates to: stop worrying so much. Frisbee can be competitive, sure. But at the heart of the game it's just a bunch of laid back people who want to have fun. Sometimes it's a competitive sport, but most times it's just people throwing around a plastic disc for fun. So don't be embarrassed or apologize if you throw it the wrong way or if it's nowhere near the person you were throwing it to... because frankly, it's not a big deal. And don't worry about the little things in life that you stress out about, because they're probably not that big of a deal either. (And if it is, see rule #3).

5. All things in moderation. Everyone knows this rule. It pretty much speaks for itself. But I think we tend to forget about it sometimes: we overwork ourselves, or we overindulge, or we over analyze... It's just good to keep reminding ourselves not to overdo it.

And just in case you're looking for more a more legitimate set of rules, here's a list that a lot of people think was written by the Dalai Lama, but it actually wasn't (they're still pretty awesome):

1. Take into account that great love and great achievements involve great risk.

2. When you lose, don't lose the lesson.

3. Follow the three Rs:

Respect for self

Respect for others and

Responsibility for all your actions.

4. Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck.

5. Learn the rules so you know how to break them properly.

6. Don't let a little dispute injure a great friendship.

7. When you realise you've made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.

8. Spend some time alone every day.

9. Open your arms to change, but don't let go of your values.

10. Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.

11. Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back, you'll be able to enjoy it a second time.

12. A loving atmosphere in your home is the foundation for your life.

13. In disagreements with loved ones, deal only with the current situation. Don't bring up the past.

14. Share your knowledge. It's a way to achieve immortality.

15. Be gentle with the earth.

16. Once a year, go someplace you've never been before.

17. Remember that the best relationship is one in which your love for each other exceeds your need for each other.

18. Judge your success by what you had to give up in order to get it.

19. Approach love and cooking with reckless abandon.

I particularly like numbers 8, 16, 17, and 19... although I need to work on number 19 a bit...

random facts about me

... because having my own blog isn't narcissistic enough. ;)

• I'm really good at giving gifts
• I have massive amounts of respect for Quentin Tarantino
• If I had large amounts of disposable income I would spend it on traveling
• I don't think I've ever seriously considered a career that actually makes money. Unless you count middle school when I wanted to be a scientist.
• I really hate math, but I'm good at it. Or at least I used to be, until it became optional and I stopped taking it.
• I'm a huge advocate of education reform for pretty much every level of schooling available.
• I don't believe in "types"; I believe in standards.
• Guerrilla art is my favorite kind of art, because to me it does what art is supposed to do: it makes people look, and it makes a comment on society.
• I firmly believe that nice people finish last. Unfortunately I'm one of those people.
• I really like persimmons.
• I get antsy when I have nothing to do. So I end up overloading myself with work and stressing out.
• I think I have really nice hands.
• I'm a vegetarian who eats fish. Technically that makes me a pescetarian, but I feel like I don't eat fish often enough to be considered a pescetarian. I don't miss meat at all.
• I don't think I can live without writing. 
• M. Night Shyamalan is a douche for making The Last Airbender (okay, so that's not about me, but it needed to be said).
• I don't really have a best friend. At least not one that I wasn't romantically involved with at some point. I wish I did.
• The person that inspires me most is the Dalai Lama. Ask me about it some time.
• I love having conversations with strangers. 
• I do nice things for people to make up for being so selfish sometimes. It allows me to feel more at peace with myself.
• I think my cat, Coco, has mastered the art of Zen.
• Music isn't a big part of my life. I think it's because I'm always living in my own head. I feel at home in the silence.
• I have a scar somewhere on my head from volcano ash.
• I was born in the Philippines. 
• Ever since I was little I've always wished I had an older brother.
• I love me some Ultimate. I've never played frisbee golf.
• I like making lists.
• I like the Atlantic Ocean better than I like the Pacific. But I'll probably end up on the West coast. 
• I have a thing for tall guys. I already know what Freud would say about that.
• I'd rather have small get togethers than big parties.
• I'm a big fan of friend-dates. No one I've talked to seems to like that term, "friend-date." I guess I can see why.
• I value good conversations.

That's all, I guess.

New Horizons

I made a life list. Also known as a bucket list, but life list sounds much less morbid.

At first I was just doing it for fun. But as I began to come up with more things to put on the list, I started thinking pretty seriously about everything I was writing down. In a crazy sort of way, it allowed me to really re-evaluate my life and what's important to me.

While looking over my list again, I began to think about just how much time I spend worrying about the future and stressing out about life in general. I don't remember the last time that I experienced something fun and meaningful and life-changing. I do a lot of introspection and I'm always trying to find meaning in what I do, but the last time I was really able to completely take myself out of my usual environment and immerse myself in an experience was Outward Bound. What I wouldn't give right now for another week on that sailboat off the coast of Maine... no motors, no cabin, no heat, no technology. Just a boat, a tarp, the ocean, and the stars.

Or maybe a road trip. Out west to California, Seattle, Vancouver... or back home to Boston and Portland. With no plans, just a map and a journal.

And once I save up enough money, actual world traveling... Spain, Greece, New Zealand, Argentina... so many places I want to see.

Part of me wants to just run off on my own and discover the world. Another part of me wants to bring someone that I'm close to. Another part of me wants to go off on an adventure with a near-stranger and see how much we can learn about each other.

I made a promise to myself: provided I don't die an untimely death, I am going to do everything on this list. Maybe some of the things on it are a little ambitious, but they're all realistic and doable.

I realize this post is a little unfocused, but that's kind of how my life is right now. It's all over the place, but I'm slowly piecing it back together. And in the process I'm finding that pieces that fit before may not slide in as easily as they used to... but that's okay. Because everything works out.

It's the principle of the thing.

Sometimes you have to make a decision based on your principles. I find that when you're in a situation like this, it usually really sucks.

You've done something wrong. Not just oops-I-ran-a-red-light-wrong. More like I-did-something-unethical-wrong. But you're the only one that knows. Do you go on with your life and not tell anyone, or do you confess and face consequences?

Some people might say "It depends on what you did." Some might say that clearly the right thing to do is confess. A few would go the "tell no one" route. But what would you actually do? As someone who's been in this situation, I can tell you that it's very tempting to not tell anyone, and then just never do it again. And as someone who has done [what I think is] the right thing and 'fessed up, I can tell you that it really sucks. It's not even as relieving as everyone thinks it is.

You have a friend who takes you for granted. You help them out with everything from emotional support, to giving them rides, to lending them money. But you get nothing in return. Do you continue to do what you're doing because they're your friend, or do you tell them that they need to start doing things for themselves?

A friend of yours says they can't remain friends with you if you continue to talk to someone that they don't like. Easy enough, right? Drop the guy/gal who's giving you the childish ultimatum. But what if that person is your best friend? What if it's someone you love?

I think the thing about making decisions based on principle is that you have to really know what your principles are. You have to ask yourself "How far am I willing to go for ___?" or "How much am I willing to give up for ___?" or "When is ___ the right/wrong thing to do?"

So I guess if someone who calls himself/herself my friend is taking me for granted, then I'll see if he/she sticks around when I stop doing him/her favors. And I guess I'll continue to tell people the truth, even if it means condemning myself. And if someone I love can't handle me being friends with someone they dislike, then I guess I'll leave it up to them to decide if it's worth losing me over.

Polka Dots

It started and ended with polka dots. Black on white and white on black. Colors that were indisputable, even between us.

I find myself at a loss for words. Instead I've got a slideshow in my head of everything we've ever done. It was brief and wild and saturated with new experiences and kisses and knowing smiles. 

Sometimes we were so foreign to each other that I often wondered if it wasn't just our eyes that saw different colors.

My thoughts are disjointed. This is all I can bring myself to say.

We're not the same, dear, as we used to be.

I feel like I'm finally starting to figure everything out.

As the days go on, I'm beginning to discover more and more of myself. I'm sorting out my feelings, figuring out what my limits are, and realizing what's important to me in the long run, versus the things that only make me feel good in the short term.

Probably most importantly, I'm learning what it means to be me. Just me. I'm figuring out what makes me happy, and I'm learning to live with myself. You know how they always say you must be able to love yourself before you can love others? I always thought it sounded a bit corny, but the more time I spend really growing as a person, the more I realize how true it is.

It's late and I've got a lot of work to do, so I'm going to be lazy and steal a metaphor from a Death Cab for Cutie song:

It's as though I was standing on a frozen lake and pretending it was solid ground. But as time went on the ice grew thin, and eventually I just fell through. These past few months I've sort of been struggling just to keep my head above water... and now I've taught myself how to swim, and I'm slowly working my way toward the shore. And hopefully in the coming months I'll have come to a more solid foundation to stand on.

Okay, I'll stop with the corny analogies for now.

My point is, things are really looking up. And who knows, maybe future me will be able to make up for some of the not-so-great decisions that past me made.

Questions

I find it incredibly ironic that after all I've been through, I have trouble taking care of myself. Don't get me wrong-- I know how to take care of myself. I just... don't.

I guess I didn't even realize I was doing it until recently. Several of my friends have expressed concern for my well being, and it's forcing me to really sit down and re-evaluate my current state. I don't ever get enough sleep, I  haven't been eating well, and my anxiety levels are through the roof. I'm unproductive, I'm unmotivated, and I've been relying heavily on the company of those closest to me for emotional stability.

I guess when it comes down to it, I know (better than most people) how to survive. Because that's all I did growing up. I survived. And as they say, old habits die hard. Despite the fact that I have a great deal of resources to get me through any hardships, I take it upon myself to deal with my own issues. I'm very private when it comes to my own emotions and struggles, and the one thing I almost never do is ask for help. From anyone.

Instead of taking care of myself, I get done what needs to get done and push all other issues to the side. Instead of letting other people know what's going on, I spend hours alone trying to work them out for myself. I survive. 

But sometimes it gets to be too much, and sometimes I have to let people what's going on. But it's always the same. "Hey, I'm going through a lot right now and I just had a crazy break down, but don't worry, I'm fine now and I'm handling it." "Hey, I've got a lot of work to do an it's entirely too overwhelming, but don't worry, I've got a plan." "Hey, I'm not getting enough sleep and I've already skipped class twice this week, but don't worry, I'm working it all out."

I'm handling it. I've got a plan. I'm working it out.

I can't just say it: "I would appreciate some help."

When I was in Chicago this weekend, I went to the Art Institute and saw an exhibit piece by Peter Fischili and David Weiss called "Questions." We sat in a dark room, and a projector would project different questions on the walls in all different languages. One of the ones that struck me was "Could I put my everlasting effort to seem normal toward something more productive?" It made me think about the way my life has been for the past couple of months. Could I put my everlasting effort to appear normal into really taking care of myself?

So, I'm taking steps. I'm going back into therapy for a bit, just to get my thoughts and emotions straightened out. I'm going to start running again and sleeping more to get my body straightened out. I'm going back to my old eating habits and I'm going to see a doctor to get my health straightened out. 

Hah, listen to that-- "I'm taking steps." "I'll take care of it."

So maybe I'm not quite there yet.

A Simple Request

If you're reading this, and if you've read my blog before, there's a good chance that you know more about me than I know about you.

So I have a request: tell me about yourself. Write a comment or send me a message or give me a call. 

It can be something little, like your favorite color.

It can be a secret, sent anonymously. 

It can be a funny story, or a sad story.

It can even be a picture of your favorite place or a favorite quote of yours.

Or maybe we can go out for lunch or coffee some time and learn more about each other.

And if you decide to say nothing (which I hope isn't the case), then tell someone else. You never know what simply sharing something about yourself can lead to. 

What've you got to lose?

Facing the Past

I didn't mean to come home for Spring Break, but somehow I ended up here anyway.

In a way, I've been dreading coming home ever since Josh and I broke up. I wasn't really sure why until I got up here... the simple truth is that everything reminds me of him. And I didn't want to face any of it. I didn't want to see the people who would ask me about it. I didn't want to miss seeing the people I was so used to seeing before.

The first night I was here, I had a long talk with Nana about life and everything that's happened in the past three years. We talked about Crista, we talked about the Soehners, and we talked about Josh. She said that, in a way, Josh and I saved each others' lives. And I couldn't agree more. We found each other in the middle of a very bad time in both of our lives, and we helped each other through it all against the worst of odds.

Aside from Nana, and perhaps my own mother (and even surpassing both of them in a lot of ways), Josh was one of the most important people in shaping who I am today.

I know our break up wasn't as hard for me as it was for him. I know that. But that doesn't mean it wasn't hard. When I lost Josh, I lost my best friend. I lost the only man I had ever loved. I lost one of the few people who knew and really understood all that I've been through.

Was it the right decision? Yes. Do I regret it? No. Do I miss him? Absolutely. You don't spend three years with someone and walk away like nothing happened. My heart might not be broken like his, but it still aches from the loss.

Anyway, this is getting to be to blubbery and too personal.

Toward the end of our conversation, Nana said that we crossed an important bridge in our lives together. And when we reached the other side, we had to stop holding hands.

Say it like you mean it.

I've decided that I dislike it very much when people speak in riddles as a means to simultaneously convey and hide what they mean to say.

Let me tell you a story about how I ended up with my first "boyfriend":

I was in sixth grade. His name was Eric Trumble. I typed him a note that was something to the effect of "The girl who wrote this likes you, but doesn't know if you like her. If you know who it is and you like her, write the word 'yes' and put it in her locker. If you don't know who it is, or if you don't like her, don't do anything." It was a foolproof plan. If he liked me, I'd find the note in my locker with his response. If he liked another girl, she would have no idea who the note came from, thus saving him from the embarrassment of giving it to her and me from the embarrassment of him knowing I was the one who gave him the note to begin with. And if he liked no one at all, I would remain anonymous.

In the end, he ended up handing me the note in person, with his "yes" scribbled plainly at the bottom. Cute, right?

But the thing that strikes me now is how much braver he was than I had been. My plan might have been a work of genius, but the fact that he had the guts to look me in the eye and hand me that slip of paper sort of left me feeling like a coward. And let's face it folks, it doesn't get much more cowardly than that note.

And here I am, years later, and I like to think that I'm a pretty straightforward person. If I mean to say something, I say what I mean. And if I'm not ready to say something, I don't (except on the occasions when I do. The outcomes on those occasions are mixed).

Which brings me back to our original topic: people who speak in riddles. At first I wanted to say that they do it as a sort of social filter; if you figure out the riddle, then you "get" them and therefore they allow you to be a part of their lives. But that seemed a bit pretentious to me, and that didn't quite fit. And then I thought maybe it was done for a measure of mystery. Everyone likes a mystery, right? (The answer is no.)

But the more I thought about it, the more I felt like people who try to hide messages in their words are doing exactly what I did when I wrote that note all those years ago-- they're protecting themselves. From shame, from embarrassment, from rejection, from judgement, from the general nastiness that comes from putting yourself out there and not being received as well as you'd hoped.

I said at the beginning of this post that I dislike when people speak in riddles. Why should I be so against someone trying to protect himself or herself? Here's why: because when you bury your meaning in a pile of meaningless words, even the people who think they know what you're saying would never admit to it, because they're not sure if what you're implying is actually being implied. People take things the wrong way. And if anyone picks up on the fact that they shouldn't take your words at face value, then they might start over analyzing everything you say and make assumptions that you never intended anyone to make.

Eric Trumble might not have done the bravest thing there was to do. He could have actually talked to me about it, or asked me out, or even asked me if I had written the note. But I'm sure he was scared too. I mean, who wasn't scared in middle school? The point is that he stepped up and did what I didn't have the guts to do. He took a social risk, and he was rewarded for it. I've been taking a lot of social risks lately, and even though they haven't all had the outcomes I was hoping for, I still feel like I'm better off for having tried.

So if you're out there, still speaking like the March Hare and typing up notes, then maybe it's time for you to take a leaf out of Eric Trumble's book.

[ photo credit ]