Posts in Life
It's Nothing Personal

Dear friend,

I flake out easily on plans. I know I do. 

Most of the time I really do have every intention of going out, but I just don’t. It’s something I need to work on: just say no from the beginning and quit giving you hope. 

I’ve been trying to figure out why I have been extra flaky these past few months - I mean like Parisian croissant flaky - and I still can’t put my finger on it.  I’m not going to sit here like I have an excuse. I make the conscious decision to go somewhere or not, but I know there’s a root cause to it all.

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Age of Easy

But I quit that, too. “Too hard” was my excuse. Again.

In fact, I’ve quit - or put off - pursuing a lot of things because I’ve deemed them too difficult: learning French, improving my art skills, learning to cook, following through with my goal to write daily.

So instead, I relegate these things to my “wish-I-could” category and carry on with the easy stuff instead.

We always go for easy, don’t we?

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My 23rd Year

There are three photos of me at my college graduation.

1)     I’m coming in with the rest of my class, capped, gowned and wearing my mother’s pink and black polka dotted sunglasses. Everyone else is marching with gravitas, but my arms are high in a victory V, my mouth wide open and excited. I love that picture.

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The Great Wait for "Real Life" to Start

Since this is a blog about the year after college I figured it's best to be honest. I have no summer job. I have no car. I sit at home with my 14 year-old brother Monday through Friday. But, hey, I'm not complaining. I've never been more relaxed. I've made some positive changes so far - and it's only June! I decided to go gluten-free, discovered I needed glasses, and embarked on an 18-hour road trip with my best friend. In case anyone was wondering - and I highly doubt anyone is - here's my life. (You're welcome.)

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On Finding Your Calling

When I was in elementary school, I desperately wanted to be a teacher. For hours on end, I would stand in front of my four-legged whiteboard easel, writing out various math problems for my imaginary students to solve. When friends came over to play, they'd sit at my feet with a pile of coloring books and puzzles, ignoring my every attempt to teach them the vocabulary word of the day. To put it bluntly, I was a nerd. The kid who begged their parents for a pair of reading glasses and read the Children's Dictionary for fun. (I still remember the first word on Page 1—aardvark—because I was fascinated by its ridiculous double-A spelling. Why not just name it an ardvark?)

I might have been a bit eccentric as a kid, but by the time I was ten, I had found my calling.

At least, for a little while.

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The Worst & Best Year of My Life: A Comeback Story

A few weeks ago, I stood on a sidewalk in New York City at 3 AM, smoking a cigarette.

I watched the glowing ember and smiled.

Sometimes, after long stretches of a remarkably steady life, I forget this part of myself. The part that tastes like gin and dances so very close to complete strangers. The part that lets her hair spill over her shoulders and sways to the rhythm of twenty-three. The part that gets her phone stolen and--when offered a cigarette to cope--laughs. Says yes for the first time.

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I Am Just A Writer

I am just a writer.

My elementary school teachers always commented on my natural knack for writing. I was the token essay editor in my apartment in college. I laced bits of lyrics together in my schoolgirl notebooks. I imagined miles of dialogue for characters who had yet to see the light of page.

But I have a confession to make: if you ask to see my writing, I’ll show you my “best material” that was written almost a year ago. And please don’t ask to see my recent material or you will be severely disappointed, because there isn’t any recent material good enough to present, because my recent material doesn’t exist.

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And That Has Made All The Difference

“The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost is a poem that I have heard at several graduations and events as a motivational addition, often including the lines from the last stanza: “two roads diverged in a wood, and I / I took the one less traveled by / and that has made all the difference.”

When I first heard this poem, I was completely oblivious (like always) to the true meaning of it. I thought: “what an amazing message: you should choose to be different from everybody else, I like, totally get it!” It wasn’t until later that I realized that I’m an English major who can’t understand poetry, and it’s tragic.

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Rainy Day Revelations

With the new Mumford and Sons album streaming through my ears (and still desperately wishing everyone was as passionate about this album as I am), I meandered through tree-shaded London streets, alone with my wandering thoughts in a city of seven million.

I returned to sit beneath a tree – my tree – on Primrose Hill, the city unchanged before me as the spring breeze carried shadows across the blooming city.

One year before, I had sat beneath this very same tree, the same skyline set within my eye line, wearily contemplating my “what’s next” after I returned home to the prospects of life post-graduation. Yet here I was - an entire year between that moment and this one - just as in the dark about what I’m doing with my life as I was then.

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If Not Now, When?

Yesterday I booked a flight to Dublin. This whole backpacking thing was turning into such a theory; I seriously needed to stop talking about it and just do it already. I found a bitchin’ round trip deal that will allow me three full weeks in Europe towards the end of the summer. For the most part, I will be alone. My mom does not know about any of this yet.

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Out On My Own

Throughout the years, I often found myself questioning my choice of school. My high school friends were meeting new people while traveling and living out of the country. They would come home with adventurous anecdotes while I felt stifled by the same small-town charm that once drew me in. I needed to try new things and make interesting choices of my own.  

Within six months, I changed my major, joined a sorority, traveled alone to Europe, and saw movies alone (yes, in that order).

These were the first steps that led me to make a huge, life-changing decision a few months ago.

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Murphy's Law: What Can Happen, Will Happen

As a twenty-something who is moderately to severely active on (read: addicted to) social media, I’m overwhelmed daily as I scroll through infinite purportedly uplifting articles about my generation: “20 Reasons Why Your 20s are the Best Years of Your Life,” “37 Ways to Turn Into Beyoncé” or “12 Random Quotes by Taylor Swift with Accompanying Pictures That Will Make You Wish You Were Her BFFL.”

On the flipside, I’ve also seen blog posts claiming that your 20s are actually required to suck, like it’s some unwritten rite of passage. Like if those years don’t make you want to shave your head Britney-style, you aren’t doing them right.

C’mon.

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Heartbreak Happens

I have grown up more in the past few months than I have in the last 22 years of my life, and I owe all of that to heartbreak. Now don't get caught up thinking this is some mopey post about a boy because it isn't. (And trust me, I would be the LAST person to give advice about that.)

Heartbreak happens all the time. You lose a friend. You get rejected from a job. You realize that bad things happen to good people and that money means way more than you ever thought. And yes, sometimes you do lose love.

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