simply put- i'm still learning.

I've thought as I'm rushing through so many things in the past couple of weeks "man, I should really blog about..." this or that, and lo and behold, none of those posts have come into fruition. So now I'm sitting here, waiting for past inspiration to re-spark, perhaps, and I've got nada. So, as opposed to picking a topic, maybe a summary of my semi-recent past, a recap-ing of the year, of sorts?

I have a very hard time seeing past where I am in the present into the future, so I think back to college, specifically senior year, and I have no idea what or if I had any expectations of where I'd be right now. I hoped working in a theatre, professionally, somewhere East Coast, so of my most minimializing details, I managed to fill those aspirations.

However, I know for a multitude of reasons that this isn't "it". Many really don't need to be gotten into, if only because I found it ironically disturbing watching a movie earlier and an older actor was commenting on how this young generation right now (in which I am at best in the oldest category of) likes to blog their every single thought, no matter how trite or insignificant. So, I'm trying to stop myself, while being the rambling, angsty, post-adolescent I strive to grow out of.

There are people I miss in places where I have little artistic future if I want to continue in this field. There are places that are full of dreams, if only I had the financial means to throw myself into them. There are places where I can have a house with a white picket fence and buy every little cutesy thing I want because I'll have a house to fill that will be mine, that I won't be leaving in a year, or two, or three. There are places where I know one person for the entire city, state, but it would be such a great place to live. There are jobs all over, where I know not a soul, where I would be starting at the square one again of not knowing where to go, how to get anywhere, not having a friend or companion. And there's my great inability to see past the present to know which direction I should shoot. And not for a lack of effort either. I ask my present self what I'd like to do, and that person just kind of scratches her head and stares back at me, puzzled, perplexed, utterly distraught at the idea of change, that every altering state that brings terror to all.

A week ago I was in Lawrence. At present, I'm back at the ol' staff house, listening to Pink Floyd (I'm so bad ass, I know), after having watched not one, but two Redbox movies- back to back, no less- get down with yo' bad self. That's right, "Easy A", followed by "Going The Distance". The first, while well-intentioned (and with a not half-bad soundtrack), was trying to be a little too John Hughes, while being completely disconnected and scattered- I'm not sure whether to blame the original story, the directing, or the editing. Regardless... meh. Cute, but meh. The second, had a much deeper undertone. Very light and funny and jokey and Justin Long even reminding me of my own friends at times, but also deeper and harder and relate-able- something about that missing somebody who lives across the country thing- frak, that blows. And you can know each other so well and be so compatible and then not see each other for so long that when you do, you're nervous and you say the wrong things and it gets awkward when there's no reason for it to be. Not that I'm speaking from personal experiences or anything...

Other, bigger things- death. I feel weird "blogging" about specifics, because I feel like to put that sort of topic into the social media or a blogging atmosphere in anyway whatsoever is trite and devaluing somehow. So, sans specifics... I don't really know where to go.

Alright... this is a disconnected ramble of a post, the length to write equivalent approximately to the amount of time it takes to listen to "Echoes"- thanks Pink Floyd.

iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou... i love you.

the lies we tell.

What a cheesy title. Sorry about that. This is a post about lies. (We used to do journal entries in J-1 and then end them with 'this is a story about... so, same idea).

Remember when you were a kid and your mom or dad would be leaving to go somewhere and leave you home alone but they said if someone called, not to tell that person that you were home alone, so tell them your mom or dad was in the shower or something? Well, I was terrible at that lie. I'm terrible at every lie, but I look back on what should be the simplest of lies and remember a stuttering, stumbling 7-year-old going "Oh, uh, um, my, uh, she's, um, I think she's in the shower?" And yet, however many odd years later, here I am in theatre, still incapable of telling the smallest white lie. They're just not my style. I will avoid the truth, but if you ask me point blank, I just can't lie.

I found in talking to one of the questioners (see back entries) that as all those life questions get thrown out like it's the weather, I skirt all around, with ums and ohs and shrugs and nods. If there's a question I don't know the answer to, I'm completely and utterly speechless.

But you're taking the time to read my blog, so here's some truths about me I do know. Little facts I don't go out of my way to make public knowledge- not like I'm hiding them or anything, but just things that never seem to come up, perhaps? I don't know. Anyway... In the indeterminable future, I would like to run a marathon. Perhaps start with a half or something like that, but run a marathon. Or maybe even a freaking triathlon. I love swimming and biking, running is the hard part. So the running is the important part to defeat. I weigh on average about one hundred forty-seven pounds, as far as I know, the most I've ever weighed to date. I think flirtatious people in relationships are skeeeetchy. I think it's possible I think this because I've been a flirtatious person in a relationship and I know the thoughts that have crossed my mind when flirting while in that relationship. And yet, I find myself attracted to and simultaneously turned off by flirtatious people in relationships. Maybe it's the fun with no fear of commitment, but then there's that feeling of what kind of person would be in a relationship and flirt with someone else? Am I projecting fears about myself on other people? I'm currently listening to Death Cab's "Transatlanticism" album because it's my favorite of all of theirs- I listened to it on repeat junior year of high school. I obsessively do sudoku puzzles. I love mental math. I still sleep with my retainers in. For reasons undisclosed even to myself, I make it impossible to love me. I haven't worn a dress in over two weeks and this bothers me. I have yet to figure out where I completely one hundred percent fit in. Before my grandmother passed away, she gave me the Anne of Green Gables books and I still have yet to read them- but I should. They're sitting on my bookshelf in my room here, because they are special enough to have needed to travel with me the 1300 miles. I really like breakfast, but I rarely get up early enough to properly eat it- I miss first semester of college when Erin, Andy W, and I would get up early just to go eat breakfast together daily. I think being outside with a drink on a warm night with terrific company is one of my favorite things in the world. The older I get, the more I hate talking on the phone- I don't seem to be getting any better at it than I was at 7, though I tried and enjoyed it for several teen years.

This started as a blog about lies, but sort of turned into a blog of random facts... I am a scatter of strangeness. Take that and this for what you well. I am still in the process of "growing up", of figuring out who I am, who and what I want to be. So for now, I am a scatter of random facts, trying to figure out which pieces make up the significance of the future. One of the multitude of things that only time will tell...

X's and O's, Peace and Love.

decisions then, results now.

This is just one of those isn't-it-crazy-how-I-got-here posts. Basically, I was thinking, what got me into theatre? First, I danced. When I was going into first grade, we moved. I started all over at a new school, having only done it a year prior. For an extremely shy kid, to do it all over was terribly difficult. When I started second grade, my mom thought maybe dance would help me to be less shy or to make more friends (not that I didn't make friends in first grade, but still) or something. So she took me to sign up for dance, where I met Kathy, one of my teachers, who told me I had the perfect legs to dance (at 8! Who knew!), something that I have never thought to question since that day, because who would just say that to an 8-year-old? No one. IT MUST BE TRUE.

Anywho, fast forward to freshman year of high school. Still dancing, on the drill team, yada yada. One of my best friends convinces me I should audition for the musical. I do, terrified, do a horrendous job, and don't make it (to this day, thank you dad for going with me to brave the cast list results). How utterly disheartening. Regardless, this somehow started a curiosity and interest in participating in theatre. So for that, I have to thank a girl I no longer talk to. I digress.

After that musical, I saw all the shows, sometimes would go into the theatre and watch a minute or two of other rehearsals throughout the year. My sophomore year, I auditioned again and made it. Thus began the bloom of friendships that my teen years thrived upon, some of the best and brightest and funniest and full-hearted people I have ever known, who filled me with joy and love and confidence and laughter. The fact that I am still in theatre is owed entirely to them.

As, I had a choice once to give it up. End of junior year, I ran for the officer board. There were ten spots and I tied with one other girl for the last spot. Our teacher made the final vote, and since the other girl had already been on the board the year before (and perhaps for other reason as well that I'll never know), she chose her. And that absolutely flat out broke my heart. I spent a long summer trying to figure out if I still wanted to do theatre, as that was a tragic hit to my self-confidence, and now, looking back, probably a complete destroying of my relationship to my teacher, as at 17, she voted against me. I think I see it as more profound now then I did at the time, but my god, as a teenager, for someone who is supposed to help you and support you and build you up and teach you and make you a better person and belief in you- to vote against you, to say you are unworthy or not good enough- holy crap. How much more opposite of what you're trying to do with your position in my life could you be going by being the person to make that sort of decision?

But back to the amazing people that I could never give up. Ten people on that board. Two were the boys who reassured all of my teenage fears by showing me they had the exact same ones, by showing me what I was going through was what we were all going through. By holding my hand, by making me laugh when I cried, by making me cry from laughing so hard. One of them knew I still wanted to be on that board, and while going through his own stuff, didn't want to be on it anymore, so two-thirds of the way through the year, he resigned his position- to me. And he and the other nine officers made me my own officer ceremony, with official words and lights of cell phones in lieu of candles. Ten people did this for me. Ten people found me worthy.

I may be over-dramatizing the whole thing quite a lot, but it is because of those ten people and several more I met in that department that I am who I am and where I am today. They touched my heart and had a profound impact on my life and shared my passion and drive for theatre. They are people that are not easily forgotten, even when I live thousands of miles away from all of them. There is a love and a respect and feeling of gratitude that will never go away. They are fantastic human beings and no matter where we go in live and how far geography may separate us, there was a time when all of our hearts worked as one and for that, I am forever humbled to have been a part of something so special and it is why I continue to strive to work so hard at what I do and who I am today. So thank you, my loves, for sharing you with me. All my love to you.

X's and O's, Peace and Love.

past, present, and future participles.

a late night post... because when better to clearly express your thoughts than three-thirty in the morning?

First thought: So, the difficult thing about blogs is you never know who is reading them. Could be no one, could be your mom, could be your boss, could be everyone you've ever met. Apparently, my blog has a following in Iraq (what?), so who knows. Regardless, trying to figure out how to discuss specifics without being... specific.

That being said, something that has been bugging me lately is deteriorating friendships. Not my own, per say, but a situation that was brought to my attention about two months ago based on a situation that started about five months ago... Confused yet? Bear with me. Here's the deal. Two people were dating. Then they weren't. One person decides to turn the other person's best friend against them. Mission is successful. Why? How? This bothers me so much. Mostly because the person I care about most in the situation is the one whose best friend now won't talk to them, but also because I have seen similar takes of this situation in my own life, with friendships, and crushes, and when those things fall apart, somehow people always try to take other people from the situation with them. Why? I understand the need to vent frustrations, but what causes someone who is not involved in the situation to completely turn against someone who was involved in the situation when that particular party didn't do anything that can be faulted other than simply not want to be in that situation anymore? I just don't get it.

My second thought is simply a memory, as I had looked over at my bulletin board earlier, and it includes a multitude of photographs, quotes, fortunes from fortune cookies, pins, coupons (thanks Mom), a postcard, and finally- a label from a Jones soda bottle, which brings me to (ta-da!) the memory: In high school (not saying this was the thing to do or that anyone did it but us or that we even did it that often, BUT), sometimes we would go to the local grocery story (oh, HyVee), get Jones sodas, drink them, then play this game of throwing them into a dumpster behind the HyVee from like 20 feet away to see if we could make it. Why we enjoyed this so much, I just don't know. When I think of this particular memory, it makes me think of two people in particular, both of whom are near and dear to my heart and saw me through a lot of emotionally awkward growing situations throughout my teen and early twenties years. One though, I haven't really talked to since high school, as he got involved with a person who does not like anyone of the opposite gender to talk to him but her... so, sad. The other I still talk to, lived with briefly, and see when I am home. Delightful boys.

My third thought involves the ever-popular "What's next?" question, something I am struggling currently to answer for myself. In dreamworld, I will find an amazing theatre job, or work on SNL (I will get them coffee, I don't care, I want to be surrounded by funny), or maybe work somehow in photography (this will require extensive class-taking, as I do not have the talent of many whom I have evidently started cyber-stalking by subscribing to stranger's photo blogs of brilliance). In dreamworld, I will move to NYC or Boston, or maybe even Chicago or DC. I will get to sleep regularly, workout and do yoga regularly, get to walk all over, listening to my iPod, protecting my eyes from the sun with my oversized sunglasses (a trademark of mine by now, along with my curls that are still mostly chopped). I will get to regularly interact with people my own age, perhaps develop relationships outside of the only three people I get to see with any regularity (whom I love dearly, but still, I crave more people). I will get to live in a place with closet space and a full sized bed (I feel like a child in this twin) and I will for-go the dream of proper air conditioning just to have proper insulation come winter (on the Upper East Coast, this is mandatory). In whatever dream job, I will make enough to be a little bit frivolous, indulgent, generous. In order to accomplish any of these things, I need to not allow myself or my work or my goals to become stagnant, but to work vigorously to maintain what I want and my fire to go after it. By putting this out in the universe, I am making some sort of public vow to do the best I possibly can for myself, and the universe can hold me accountable to follow through. And so help me, I will.

Now who says you can't clearly communicate your ideas at random early morning/late night hours?

X's and O's, peace and love.

thinking before you speak... is for other people.

I've had quite a few 'blonde' moments over this past weekend. Some are just dumb things I've said, much to the amusement of others. "It's a hilarious!" (what?)... Others are more substantial.

For example, I thought my phone wasn't charging this entire weekend. Oh, the battery must be going, time for a new phone. But, no. (Well, it is time for a new phone, but not due to a bad battery.) Instead, when I was in NYC with my folks last week, I was reminded by a banner on the subway about conserving energy that having a charger plugged in when it's not being used still uses energy, so I unplugged mine when I got home. However, I forgot that, so I was plugging one end into my phone, without the other end in anything... wow.

Another, I realize, was from when I was in 3rd grade, but I realize only now I may have gotten what was said entirely wrong. 3rd grade, the cusp of pre-teen life. I was the oldest sibling, so I had no one to look up to or talk to, but a girl in my class, named Jessica, had an older sister- who was in middle school, the epitome of cool. Jessica told all the girls in our 3rd grade class that she had started shaving her arms and legs, because her sister did it. Only now do I look back and wonder if she said arms or "armpits". Or had said arms but assumed everyone knew she meant under arms. Because, after she told us that, and that we should all do it too, I shaved my lower arms, like the tops of them, for several weeks, until my parents noticed and made me stop. I now wonder what my mom thought when she learned I was doing that. I laugh now at the idea of a kid coming up to me and telling me they were shaving their arms... their lower arms. Just me who finds this hilarious? Perhaps. Alas...

X's and O's, peace and love.

repeat

I knew it was bound to happen at some point. But still, so soon? I'm only 24...

Here's the thing. I've grown up with a most common name my entire life. There are only so many names and mine is pretty popular... ha. So, as I've gotten older, it's amusing to see the name similarities or identicalness I've found with the more people I've met. These tickle and confuse me simultaneously as at some point I know my old mind will start to confuse the people.

But as of late, what's even more intriguing to me is the personality similarities. I mean, please, people my whole life have had similarities and reminded me of each other. But now, living so far from home, where no one from my day-to-day live here is related to or attached to my life at home in any way, I find the personality similarities fascinating.

In the past month, I've met two people who each in their own way remind me of people from home. The first reminds me of a close, close college friend, the second of an ex-boyfriend. Both similarities are so similar, not necessarily in look or personal relationship to me, but in senses of humor, reactions to situations, speaking patterns, mannerisms... it's uncanny. I find myself utterly at a loss of words and just kind of starring at moments because I'm so confused by the feeling of seeing someone else when I look at them. And of themselves, I think they're great people... or are they? Am I seeing them, am I getting to know them, or am I confusing myself with the feelings I feel towards the people they remind me of? Most perplexing.

At any rate, I mean, I know there are only so many people in the world and things we can do and like and think and feel about situations, but isn't 24 a little early to be meeting so many people that remind me of so many other people? Shouldn't I still be meeting people who are simply people? (I mean I am, but also these double people.)

Just a little food for thought...

And, not to sound like a broken record, but I plan on writing more frequently. I think I get bent out of shape about having to have a long thing to write about, but maybe I'll try to insert some short, sweet posts in here, just so I seem a bit more reliable. :)

x's and o's, peace and love.

ice cream for one

let me paint a picture for you. this picture would be titled: my friday night. i spent a large portion of my day away from work, and as often when i'm not working, alone. this doesn't bother me. the older i've gotten, i've found that i enjoy the independence, the time to think, absorb myself in music, or get lost in a book or tv show. the perks include always getting to do what i want to do, when i want to do it. really, there's no downside. at any rate, so, as it was a lovely day out (after a week of cold and rain), i thought i'd take advantage of what could be my last afternoon of sunlight for awhile and go walking on a walking path about twenty minutes from where i live. so, i go about my merry business, plug in the ipod, take it slow, just walking, enjoying the weather. a little over an hour later, i'm like, i could go for some food. there's a quizno's down the block, so i grab a grinder (oh, east coast...), sit at the bar by the window and eat my grinder. then i walk down the block, a cute little very italian block, with lots of italian restaurants and outdoor seating, and can't help but note that i've stumbled into date night. every table is a couple, which, i suppose, makes sense as it is dinner time on a friday night. regardless, i continue to stroll on my merry way. i spy an ice cream parlor and decide to go in, order a small cone. i do this, the girl gives me the largest cone of ice cream of my life. not one to complain, as i do love ice cream, i take it and go sit on a park bench outside. in the span of the 20 minutes that i sat there, the only people who passed me: couples. and every single set looked at me with judgment. what is a 20-something girl doing by herself on a friday night, sitting solo on a park bench here on romance road, eating the largest ice cream cone that man has ever made? and despite the fact that i am so used to and so comfortable spending time solo, something about being out there for all to see and judge just shook me. and i thought realistically, this could still be me in ten years, twenty years, fifty years down the road. at what point would it be okay with everyone for a girl to sit solo enjoying an ice cream cone on a park bench on a friday evening?

i chose this profession and so for as long as i choose to keep it, i am married to it. i love it so, but then there are the rare friday nights where you are by yourself, eating an ice cream cone on one end of an empty bench while love blooms for all around. a marriage where your spouse doesn't go out to eat with you, go for walks with you, go to concerts or on picnics or grocery shopping. a marriage where the other half of the bed is empty. for now, this is what i choose. and i'm okay with that. so i hope you can be too.

some sort of pot or kettle backtracking

From the last post, it should be noted: I do very much enjoy and like the people who did the questioning of me. And while that style of questioning irks me, it is most like bemusing to any and all who knew me in KS, as I realized post-posting that post (har?), that I have myself been the leader and have asked those questions of the lucky or unlucky ones who have stumbled into the JoCo group I was a member of, and still am really, all my life. The reassurance of having that group gave me self-confidence that I still am frequently lacking here in CT, as I sit on the other side of the table.

I said as I sat there at that table last night, that I would not move back to KS. That is not true. It's not my plan, but whatever happens, happens. And while I was happy and content and a little buzzed from my drink, I was okay here. But in the morning I woke up, and the first thing that happened, as it does many mornings, was a pang in my heart- I miss my family. I miss my parents, I miss my brother, I miss my life there. Because one life is going does not mean the other stops. It is surreal and difficult and really, really hard to miss so much that goes on with them in a day-to-day world. While moving away has truly taught me to appreciate them, at what point does it become selfish for me to continue to stay so far away?

This is a post simply stating: I like everyone. I hope everyone likes me. Your confidence irritates me when I don't have it, and I recognize how my confidence can irritate others when I did (and still do) have it.

Peace and Love, X's and O's.

questioning

This is a post about questioning. This is a wide topic. It encompasses the questions we ask of ourselves, as well of those that others ask of us. And furthermore, what causes some to ask those questions so plaguingly (not a word, but I totally just made it one) of themselves, and what causes others to ask them so openly of each other?

First off, at some point last week, I had several occurrences where people were discussing things that were appropriate growing up versus appropriate now. For the most part, what they said were things that were much more liberal than my upbringing. Being the sunflower standing alone in a sea of mountain laurels (yes, I did just look up the CT state flower in order to make that work), a lot of it is credited to my Midwestern upbringing (by those who have never been there), as anyone who was born and raised on the Coast can not comprehend that my hometown and college town are both populationally (another word made up by yours truly) and most otherwise modernized more so than any town I've seen here. Yes, I come from a Red State. Lord knows that's something I've overcome. But I've always lived somewhere with running water, electricity, goodness gracious, even the internet! (Have we all so quickly forgotten Google, Kansas?? Not only do we have electricity, but our capital is making a fool in attempts of gaining the highest speed internet...) But irregardless, the sheer fact that I was not running on East Coast beaches every summer and didn't met any juice heads until I moved out here somehow diminishes the value of my opinion or superiorizes (all me) others' upbringings over my own. I've lived here for nearly two years and it's still so shocking that people I find otherwise to be completely intelligent, decent human beings, still devalue my thoughts and feelings based on not growing up here. Which leads me to my next section of questioning...

Out with a group of people tonight, all of whom I know on a somewhat acquaintance at least level, but of course, being the only one not born and raised here, they are all more familiar with each other than I am, all having histories that I didn't witness, and no amount of re-creating old stories will make me further a part of that history. Nonetheless, they like me, I like them, but I find myself being put on the spot, in an almost interview-esque style, questioning and quizzing me on my lifestyle choices, who I want to be, where I want to go, what I want to do. As if asking these big questions in such a presentational way will not only get you a deep honest answer (which it won't, as my being put on display will involve me giving an honest, but as brief an answer as possible, so the spotlight will glare into someone else's pupils) but help us to somehow play catch up into close, close friends. ...I will never understand this style of getting to know you. I am now in display, as uncomfortably as possible, being asked to get emotionally naked and share my deepest thoughts, feelings, desires, dreams, with people who can sit back and watch, judge, comfortable in their already formed friendships, secure from being raised together, from always knowing what everyone else wanted to do, because they've always seen everyone else grow up.

What do you want to do with your life? Ha. Like anyone ever has a complete answer to that question? I definitely do not and I stumble all over trying to answer it whenever anyone has the audacity to ask it. I want to be happy. I want always to be surrounded by people I love, challenged by things I enjoy, driven by my passions and pursuits, comfortable enough in myself to be honest always, comfortable enough to get uncomfortable, to afford the ability to always be rich in literature, music, coffee... fashion. Girl, for just a moment, I know. More specifically, do I have an answer? No. I want to do what I want until it makes me happy, and when it doesn't make me happy anymore, I'll do something else. But to explain that to anyone is so... difficult. Difficult without sounding completely without drive or passion, without sounding like a complete and utter hippie, as I have been accused repeatedly of over the last five or six years. As if my ideals of recycling and being a vegetarian and conserving the planet's resources are so utterly absurd. But I digress. (As I seem to do at least once a post...)

Where do you want to go? Who do you want to be? Let's be honest, life is different in CT and KS. But not for the reasons so many assume. In fact, quite the opposite. In a lot of ways, they're very much the same. The differences come simply from, if I were to live in a place where my future is set into becoming a Midwestern housewife, surrounded by friends and family who I've known my entire life (where we can go out to dinner as a group with a person who has the misfortune of not being raised with us their entire lives and we can cross-examine them with a self-assured thorough knowledge of each other). I could do what I want to do, be who I want to be, but am most likely going to be with someone I've known my whole life, doing things in places I've always gone to (don't get me wrong, I love these people and these places). Or I have the option of CT (or anywhere else really, but as it is where I am at the moment...), where I will always be a little more outside, where I will have to work harder to prove myself, to fit in, to be worthy of these pre-formed since-birth groups that we all have in our hometowns. I have option of not knowing who I could someday marry since he was knobby-kneed with a mouth full of braces, of living in or exploring places where I don't know all the roads; a place where I have to get a new state license, learn a new dialect (whether it be speaking or merely struggling to hear it properly), find new favorite restaurants... hey, it could even be a blue state. Or a non-colored state at all.

Have you learned anything here? I answered no. Such a reflex. But not entirely true. If not about the profession, I have learned a lot about myself in the past two years. I've learned the pain and anguish of moving 1300 miles away. I've learned how much you can miss everyone you've ever known, every place you've ever been, every memory you've ever had. I've learned that I'm stronger than I thought. I've learned how much missing people can age you. I've learned to live without a relationship, without a crutch, by myself. I've learned what good company I can be to me. I've learned to be a friend to myself. I've learned the art of being selfish and doing things for me. I've learned the difficulty of maintaining friendships with hundreds of miles between you, but the importance of the people who are willing to try. I've learned to become an expert frequent flyer. I've learned to navigate myself through places I've never been. I've learned that I never want to become a person who stops learning. I want to learn all my days through. I've learned the importance of a good night's sleep... every night. I've learned that it is so hard to try to teach yourself the guitar. I've learned that sometimes people have to make choices that hurt you in the moment, but that is never their intention and was merely them having to do what's best for them and I've learned to accept those choices they've made- I want what's best for them. I'm working on learning the art of being Zen, the ability to stay calm and cool, to let others get dramatic but not let it affect me. I've learned that I believe in love (well, duh), but have grown more accepting of the love lost, and overcome the need to find love where there is none. I have re-learned, over and over again, that laughter is always the best medicine.

This is a post where I would like to have the answers, but I don't. This is a post, like so many before it, about my upbringing. How I was raised in suburbia, in the Midwest, in a happy, healthy family, and yet, it somehow makes me unique. Different. How my 'normalcy' becomes a paradox, a paradigm, perplexing. A post where I want to have the answers, but somehow I just end up with more questions. What is it going to take for the value of my opinion to be equal to those of others- those around me, my peers, my friends? I'm learning that it's knowing the value of my opinion in my eyes that really matters, and at some point, the people who see it at that same esteemed value are the people worth blogging over.

peace and love, x's and o's.

ghosts

For anyone who knows me, ghosts is an unusual topic choice. But I don't mean ghosts necessarily in the most traditional sense, of, dead spirits appearing in front of you.

But rather, perhaps, the ghosts of past memories. As we are all prone to, sometimes a memory hits you and you are left with some sort of feeling of deja-vu. I think the seasons personally affect for me what memories hit me when, as well as who I've talked to recently, who is on my mind, where geographically I'm located, et cetera. But also, the places we've come to in our lives.

For example, since I was about 15 or 16, I've liked or been dating a boy almost constantly. (To go even further back, I seem to have skipped that whole "boys have cooties" phase entirely... when haven't boys been cute?) While this has not been the case since I've moved to CT, a large percentage has disappeared in my flirtatious personality; it has changed in that my focus has become my job and I worry that it will come off as unprofessional or as a distraction or some other sort that will not be openly accepted or appreciated. However, I've kind of hit a wall... I'm ready to be around boys my own age again, single and straight and attractive, and to laugh and flirt and giggle, all feelings and tendencies and personality traits that I feel I left with my self-confidence somewhere in a box in my parents' basement in KS.

Regardless, so, I'm ready to bring that person more front and center again (as if I've been able to ever control my personality, be it flirtatious or awkward or more often than not, both). So memories of that former person have been floating through my head and one particular memory absolutely knocked me flat the other night. Of course it was of a summer memory, and of course it was of the boy, the one who got away (there's always that one who got away), and of course it was of a time when I believed he loved me truly and deeply... oh, to be the naive fool again...

But I digress. I guess my head is in a place where I eagerly anticipate whatever there is to come, while being aware of what a blissfully unaware little thing I was, and the reality that, in order to jump back in, there is every possibility that I will be repeating history... Alas. Insert some cheesy love quote here, foolish or not, here I stand, ready to jump... or at least get my toes wet...

x's and o's, peace and love.

been a long, been a long, been a long day

Okay, so I've kept up with this pretty well... Har har. Another round... let's see how this goes.

I guess I haven't updated because there hasn't been much to report. I think the latest news to discuss would be the fact that despite the fact that I am two years older than when I received that diploma and moved myself to the coast, I still live by the Kansas philosophies upon which I was born and raised. Those include trusting people instantly and all-encompassingly until they give you a reason not to. This is the opposite of most that I have found on the coast, who only trust you once you have proven yourself. Regardless, I am coming to terms currently with the first serious sucker punch to my trust since I have moved here.

The thing that irks me, and maybe I'm just totally off base, but I have always considered myself to be a good judge of character. Even now, I'm not sure what happened or that I am off base, despite the actions that suggest to the contrary.

In the long run, this is a blip. No big deal. Not anything to be upset over. But at the current moment, it is disappointing and frustrating and I don't want it to affect the way I openly trust people. One situation. Not worth it.

This is a story about not getting bogged down by things not worth bogging. Anything or one who would do this to you is soooo not worth your time. And karma always comes back around...

In The Future, There Will Be More Writing

So, I told my mom a story the other day about something funny that had happened. She laughed and was like 'You should write a book'. ... I don't know that that's true, but I certainly should resume writing on a more regular basis about the things in my life until I can figure out how to blend them into a coherent story... So, if you're interested... pay attention... stories headed your way!

Reality Check

Alright, here it is: I'm a terrible writer. Shocking? No, if you're reading this (Joel, this may just be you), you've read my last two blogs. I have no idea how to wrap things up. Some nice conclusion at the end of my last blog where I discovered who I want to be and what I want to do with my life? Ha! Please. If I had those answers, I'm sure I wouldn't have a blog.

Today's thoughts... asking for help. This is something I am TTTTTerrible at. From a ride to carrying something when I have 8354 things in my hands, to the much bigger, I have never been good at it. To place blame, I could say it's my parents, who have always been there for me whenever I've needed something, so it's rare and unusual when I have to find someone else so I usually prefer not to. Woe is me, with the supportive parents.

To preface, this is not going to end with me discovering how to be brilliant at asking for help. This is just more pointing out a flaw in the hopes that perhaps recognizing it will highlight its existence in my life and therefore become something I improve at in the future.

I guess even more than not asking for help, I hate putting people out. And I mean, anyone. Asking a waiter for a side dish they forgot to bring me. Even if it's their "mistake", I think I've always tried to live my life in the philosophy of leave something better than you've found it (an old scout motto), and have extended it to not wanting to impose on anyone, ever.

So, how do I improve this situation? Ha. How do I start putting people out? How do I impose without imposing?

I don't know, but I hope to figure it out. I recently was listening to NPR (something I've started doing in the hopes of gaining back some of my dwindling intelligence post-educational years) and I heard an interview of author Suzan Colon of the cookbook "Cherries in Winter". Long story short, I now follow her blog and this is a quote I've taken to heart from it: "I've never run a half-marathon before. I've never been 46 before. And I've never told quite so many people that I was going to do something like this. But I like the sound of it: I'm training for a half-marathon."

Never done it. Doesn't mean can't. But what, oh what, will I apply it to? I always view birthdays as a time to reflect and change or improve things. My own personal New Year's resolutions. At 19, I decided it was time to finally pierce my ears. Not exactly changing the world, but getting over a life-long fear of needles long enough to sit in a seat and allow both Claire's employees to drop what they were doing to simultaneously pierce both ears, for my fear of not being able to go through the second one after having gotten the first. And it wasn't so bad. To the extent that five or six months later, I got them double-pierced. Again, simultaneously, but hey, baby steps.

For 24, I'd like to do something as well. Here, I've started this blog, to share my, what I'm sure I find to be starting revelations, when in actuality I will look back and laugh at my profound findings. But I digress. I'm thinking of getting a tattoo. I could barely sit through a needle going through my ear for a split second five years ago, so why I now think getting stabbed repeatedly would be a brilliant idea, I'm not sure, but I like the idea. Something small and Irish on the inside of my left wrist, because no matter who I am or where I am or what I'm doing, Irish is something that will never change. That and/or a peace & love on my foot, just on the visible side of a ballet slipper, my own personal life philosophy. Will it happen? Only time will tell.

If someone else has a better suggestion of how I change, I'm open to suggestions... For now, I leave you with random love quotes, because it is February, the month of love.

"Anyone can be passionate, but it takes real lovers to be silly." -Rose Franken

"Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to, doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have." -Anonymous

"Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be." -Robert Browning

"A woman has got to love a bad man once or twice in her life to be thankful or a good one." -Mae West

"My heart is ever at your service." -William Shakespeare

"There is no remedy for love but to love more." -Henry David Thoreau

"We are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love." -Anonymous

"If you judge people, you have no time to love them." -Mother Teresa

When I Grow Up...

I was never that kid who knew what they wanted to do from the age of... forever. That kid who tells his teacher the first day of kindergarten his career aspirations and then sticks to them. I never had a clue. With all the possibilities out there, how is one supposed to choose?

I think the closest I ever came to anything of "this is what I want to be when I grow up" is one of those little kid aspirations that I will tell you never ever would pan out. In light of recent events, both in my life, and in those of the idol I looked up to years ago, it got me thinking.

When I was about 8, I wanted to be an ice skater. Honestly. In 1994 at the Winter Olympics, Nancy Kerrigan was my hero. She made it look effortless. I remember hopping about my house, pretending on was twirling about on the ice. I finally took a year or so of skating lessons around the age of 10, and I don't think I was too bad.

However, I went ice skating for the first time last week with my dear friend Monica, the first time I've been on the ice since about 1996, and let me tell you... it's not like riding a bike. It doesn't just come back to you. Having grown about a foot and a half taller since the last time I skated, the fear of falling had also grown. As my mom used to joke when I was younger, falling is scarier to taller people, because you have further to go before you reach the ground. I will attest to that. If I hadn't had Monica by my side, I would have willing paid others to prevent me from having to make my way on to the ice. I did bite it rather hard once, and nearly two weeks later, I still have a lovely purple bruise on my left knee to prove it, but beyond that, I survived. Definitely a workout, of sheer terror, if nothing else.

Nearly twenty years since kindergarten and I still don't know that I ever had a practical aspiration. I mean, I can't imagine doing anything other than what I'm doing (as "practical" as it is), but do I want to do it forever? I'm sure my parents would kill me, but I'd love to dabble a little in everything. ...okay, maybe not ice skating.

Despite not having any idea what I wanted to be doing as an adult, I did see an older version of myself. Well, not really. I still have a hard time seeing myself any differently than who I am now. I can't see myself in 5 or 10 or 30 years. No clue. But there were certain things about my younger self I was sure I would grow out of.

The one I thought I would grow out of, but still managed to hang out to? My lack of coordination. At 10 days shy of being 24, I still trip over my own feet, run into doorways, drop things, spill things, etc. This would be one thing if I did them like any normal person, or even as infrequently as any other person. But no, every single slip-up is like an all-or-nothing, I end up unintentionally making as big a fool of myself as possible.

Yesterday, for example. I managed to hit myself in the head with a water bottle that fell out of my purse when I bent over; when walking down a hall, in order to make room for the person I was passing, I ran into a door (mind you, there was plenty of room, I just over-accounted); I opened a door into a 3rd grader at school and saw him today and thanked my lucky stars he didn't have a black eye (soooo sorry about that, Ryan); the road was blocked on my way home from the gym, so I took side roads and surprise- got totally lost in the town I've been living in for a year and half; and finally, opened a packet of grape sports drink to mix in my water bottle, it ripped open, going all over the floor and table at the gym, and the left half of my chest, ribs and stomach on my white v-neck undershirt, making it look like I had done a self tie-dye on my workout clothes... the epitome of grace I am not.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, one thing I have gotten significantly better at is being outgoing. Those of you who have known me for a short while can't imagine me being shy, but those of you who have known me 10, 20+ years probably can perfectly imagine the 4, 5, 6, even like 12-year-old me, the awkward, impossibly shy little one that I was. When I was in 1st grade, my teacher made us take turns reading books out loud to the class, because this was the only time I would EVER talk in class, when absolutely forced to. (Ending a sentence in a preposition, who am I to teach grammar??)

When I was about 10 or 11, I remember riding in the car with my mom, and her talking to me about needing to open up to people, or else they would think I was snobby. I am not a snob, nor have I ever been, and the idea that someone would misinterpret my fear of talking to them as such was even worse than the fear of having to talk to them! S0, slowly but surely, I turned into this ramble-y, bubbly person that I am today (if you think I am neither, then you need to get to know me a little better...). I'm not exactly jumping to take the mic from Miss Michelle in Where's That Comma? but it also doesn't make me break out into a cold sweat either... though it might if she makes them sing me "Happy Birthday" next week, as she's threatened to... (another preposition!)

Did this blog start on one topic and move completely to a different one? Well, I did tell you I ramble...

Tribute

An honest-to-goodness grown-up blog! Alright, so I still have a Xanga, but who follows those anymore? Hardly no one it seems, so as another part of turning 24, I'm getting my feet wet in the world of adult blogging.

My blog 'html' is a tribute to one of my favorite movies, and a personal philosophy as well. I'm a sucker for new music, but also a sucker for that song you've heard so many times, you know it by the first note and are instantly brought a feeling of glee.

My blog 'title' is another personal philosophy. Ups and downs, I keep on dancing. Really though, a little more dancing could do us all some good- who doesn't come out of dancing in a better mood? The answer, my friend, is no one.

So, read, follow me, whatever. Or don't. It's your choice. Watch me stumble through my mid-twenties, both the good and bad, favorite books and movies and songs, embarrassing and awkward moments that still continue to happen to only the likes of me, and the many adventures of anyone trying to figure out who they're supposed to be, as well as what they're supposed to blog about in the adult world.

x's, o's, peace and love.