Why Millennials Just May Change The World

How often do we find ourselves preparing for the worst and hoping for the best? In a world shaken by adversity and turmoil, we millennials have put on our battle faces to enter our turbulent society.

As a millennial myself, I have noticed this strange parallel between our schooling years and years post-education. We are, in a way, becoming re-educated and reminded of the important lessons instilled in us over the 12 or 16+ years of institutional education. We are a unique population, newly educated and trained, entering a rather unstable world. Despite this, I firmly believe that we have been incidentally molded for this environment. Our past has presented us obstacles that have serendipitously trained us for this moment—our moment!

Let’s start with Pluto. Back in our day, we had nine planets. I distinctly remember hearing about Pluto’s possible change in classification in a fourth grade classroom. I was devastated; Pluto was my favorite planet! As a child noticeably smaller than my peers, I looked up to this planet who kept up with the other big shots. What did they mean dwarf planet? Does that mean Mickey Mouse’s dog is downgraded to a prairie dog? A puppy? Still, we went on with our day. And when Pluto was officially denounced, we begrudgingly dealt with this devastation, still keeping Pluto in our hearts. That was one of our first lessons: things change.

Equally important, all throughout primary school we were taught: hands to ourselves, respect each other’s personal space, recognize others right to say no. Need I say more?

On a more sobering note, millennials also faced 9/11. Every news station broadcast our neighboring city coated in malicious smoke. Our hearts grieved as we watched our parents pacing the floor. We wondered why our world could be tainted with such viciousness. And then we showed the world our September 12th. Together, we faced another day and rebuilt our city. We leaned on each other and raised one another up. We millennials were taught by example. That year we learned the power of unity and love.

Luckily, we are able to unite instantly through our technological savviness. Although the world has seen an alarming growth in dependence on technology, millennials have also learned how to harness these powers for good. Our communication, being instant, makes us better able to connect, build, and work collaboratively. Having grown up during a technological boom, we are learning how to advance our work to create a growing network of individuals across the globe!

Finally, we learned how to fight for others instead of with others. With online fundraising platforms flooding our Facebook feeds, millennials are embracing our ability to crowdfund and stand up for what we believe in. I had the best morning watching the news yesterday, when three back-to-back stories revolved around local charity work. A high school football team baked pies for the hungry, a woman was honored for her work with the homeless, and a young man raised $500 for a wonderful foundation. That is who we are.

We are being tested. It is time to show how much we studied for this exam. We are capable of dealing with change, respecting boundaries, working together, and giving back. Millennials are ready to put our tools to work. So, here we go!

Ready, set, CHANGE.

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The End of An Era: Saying Goodbye to Windrose

Hi friends,

Announcement (sounds so formal, doesn’t it?):

It's the end of an era.

I’ve decided that, after nearly 8 years of telling stories of navigating life, this season of Windrose is drawing to a close.

Even Here: Words for When You're Wandering

When I was 22 years old, I visited the desert for the first time.

A metaphorical desert, if we’re getting technical.

I was fresh out of college, starry-eyed and eager to begin my post-grad life. I had big ‘ole me-centered dreams: a shiny, brag-worthy PR job in the music industry! An apartment with an exposed brick wall that (somehow) would fit an upright piano! A committed relationship with a kind, goofy man!

I got exactly none of those things.

To summarize an entire year’s worth of emotion: I was devastated.

What is Home?

Late last night, I flew back into town after a week away, the city lights covering the Valley like a blanket of incandescent flowers. I’ve flown into Phoenix at least a dozen times at this point. Usually, I can identify a handful of landmarks, like my antenna-scarred South Mountain or the twinkling lights of the bridges spanning Tempe Town Lake.

Flying into Nashville, however, was always different.

I Don't Live Here Anymore

I recently returned to Nashville for the first time since moving to Phoenix five months ago.

Before my reunion, I often said that the word “home” could apply to both Nashville and Phoenix. Nashville is my home. Phoenix is my home. I could find that home-sweet-home feeling in both cities.

During my 8 days back, I frequented my old haunts. The brickwalled coffee shop still serves the meanest mocha in town. The hillside winery still proves to be a worthwhile spot to sip away a sunny Sunday afternoon. The hip burger joint still offers a lovely evening to dine with friends, new and old. The lime-green Mexican restaurant on the corner of Whitebridge still feels like a queso-soaked refuge.

There were many “stills,” but there were changes, too.

Why did you move?

A cardstock print sits propped against the lamp on my desk: a taupe watercolor swipe outlining a peakside Saguaro, the sun a tiny ring above. Beneath this minimalist illustration are these words in typeface: “I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.”

I happened upon this notecard-sized print on the way out of a shop last weekend, after already having completed another purchase. It was the last print of its kind in the pile. I had to have it. I returned to the cashier: “This one, too.”

You see, this verse has been a thread weaving through my story, simple words spoken by a prophet long dead, a passage of comfort I’ve returned to again and again since my pilgrimage to the desert four years ago, when I inked a cactus on my wrist.

The Good Old Days

Last week was National Margarita Day.

I did not, however, celebrate the holiday. Truthfully, I’ve yet to find THE Mexican place here in Phoenix. You know the one: gaudy decorations, cheap food, even cheaper margaritas.

But there’s a Mexican restaurant at the corner of Charlotte and Whitebridge in Nashville, TN.

You may have heard of it.

Witching Hour (or, Fighting Off Demons at 3 am with a Box Cutter)

Between the hours of 3 - 4 am, I find myself awakened by nothing in particular. The room is silent. There is no sound outside. No loud car horns. No dogs barking.

I’m upset.

I wish it was something other than just me. Then I could stop it. Nothing is to blame. It feels like moments have passed since I closed my eyes. The moments of a long dreamless sleep last about 4 hours.

10 Life Lessons This Cross-Country Move is Attempting to Teach Me

There are a few lessons life has attempted to teach me since my move — all things that I haven’t yet spiced up into a full essay, but deserve to be memorialized by my metaphorical pen nonetheless.

So I present a collection of lessons I’ve learned — and am still learning — in the last 3 months.

What Will Your Life Look Like?

Tomorrow marks 3 months.

Three months here, sharing a zip code with Saguaros.

“So how is Phoenix?” a friend asked me over the phone as I sat on my balcony beneath glowing string lights, a pour of raspberry wine in my hand. The sun was setting, painting the eastern mountains with rosy swipes of redemption.

How has Phoenix been these last three months?

What is it Trying to Tell You, if Only You’d Listen?

I went on a date recently. Two glasses of Riesling, pleasant conversation, and a perfectly amicable guy — it was an altogether fine evening.

However, I wasn’t interested in a second date.

Not because of any run-for-the-hills red flags. Not because I didn’t think he was cute. Not because we didn’t get along. I simply — wasn’t interested.

There’s no better way to explain it. No fear-based avoidance of the potential for a healthy relationship. No disdain for commitment that needs a heavy round of therapy to work through. Nothing deeper than the inner sense that a second date just wasn’t necessary.

But, I said yes to getting dinner again with him.

The Other Side of Yes

I’m a No Girl.

In many ways, this is a good thing. I’m able to confidently decline invitations that disinterest me.

“Want to go whitewater rafting?” No thank you, I’m comfy right here on the bank.

“Want to do a shot?” No thank you, I’ll take my liquor with lime juice and Triple Sec, plz.

“Want to try this carrot cake?” No thank you, Harry, I can’t eat gluten.

“Want to go to Broadway?” No thank you, I’d prefer to go to bed.

In many ways, however, being a No Girl originates less from personal boundaries and more from fear. Fear and I happen to be pretty tight; we talk on the daily. Fear has been the primary consultant for many of my life decisions, in fact.

A Song for Growth

A year ago, a friend of mine got a job at a well known tech company. He had been slogging through the interviews, and he finally got an offer. Obviously he deserved it. He was a hard worker, and his attitude for success and life was admirable to say the least. I knew he was beyond qualified.

But at the time, I was on a career path I couldn’t see myself being happy in. I had made the mistake of staying in the industry mainly for the money. Every month in the industry was a reminder of how much I did not want to stay. It created a nasty cycle of overthinking and career angst. Feelings of inadequacy and existentialism rooted themselves deep inside me. I couldn’t focus on anything and was utterly disconnected from the work I was doing.

I admit I wasn’t happy for him.

Life, PoliticsC. CarrollDecember 14, 2017FeaturedComment