“So Ashlee, what are your big plans for tonight?”
I was in the middle of working as a production assistant for a week-long writer’s workshop, and one of the writers tossed out the question as we were all packing up to leave the space for the evening.
It was simple small talk, but I didn’t have a good answer for it.
Read MoreI don’t know what I’m doing.
How many times in the past two years have I said this or some variation of it? How many times in the past two years have I felt like I made mistakes or I regret the decisions that I made? Too many.
Read MoreNow that I'm graduating college the stress to make all the right decisions is heightened. It feels like if I make one wrong step now people will shake their heads, because they knew I would never be able to accomplish all my lengthy list of goals. I don’t want to be known as the girl who failed because she didn’t have whatever “it” is.
Read MoreThere comes a time in every child's life when they realize that their parents might not be the "be all and end all" when it comes to opinions. There might, God forbid, be something that you question. Something that you choose, willingly, to defy. I'm not talking about curfews or rules when it comes to alcohol or boys in the house. I'm talking about the things that you believe to your core, the things that you choose to let define you, the things that you will go to bat to defend. The things that make you... you.
Read MoreAnd regardless of whether or not I became a nomad, I was still leaving Nashville. I was over this city with its drunken country music tourists on Broadway and lack of ocean or mountains and awful traffic and skinny-jean wearing boys who have no idea what they want.
“I’m leaving.”
That was my constant refrain to whoever asked me what I wanted to do.
Read MoreA wistful gleam of light pours onto my pale face, bags like fake Prada clutches sit under my eyes and my hair is swept in a ponytail. I've decided to put on my makeup at work to save time, sanity, and immerse myself in an extra two minutes of sleep.
Read More“How do you want your eggs?”
I’m sitting next to him on the patio of an IHOP in the rain, smiling too much and keeping my hands in my lap where he can’t reach out and grab one.
If he notices the way I don’t lean in for a kiss and cross my arms when we walk, he doesn’t let on. He leans in for me, wraps his arms around me in my favorite bear hug.
Read More“Let this be enough.”
I heard those simple words this morning as I sat quietly in my living room beneath the “Inhale” and “Exhale” artwork that reminds me to breathe. In my left arm sat my cuddly grey cat that I never intended to own; in my right hand steam rose from the coffee in my Be Brave mug. My jealous Poodle, deeply offended that I could love any creature apart from herself, had crawled into my lap and curled up on the pillow. A soft Target blanket was tucked around my legs, and my feet were warm inside fuzzy socks. A pumpkin candle glowed and fall’s weak morning light shone through the windows. Be still, I urged my mind. Be still and know. Stay quiet and listen.
Read MoreWhen I got the email, I knew I didn’t really have a choice. I was growing bored of my small college town and the fear of remaining there forever was stronger than ever as all of the people around me were graduating. I hated that I had already stayed this long after my own graduation. I was feeling stagnant; I was getting restless. I loved everything about my life as it was, except for the fact that there was no way it would stay that way. I had the urge to leave before everyone else did.
Read MoreOn Monday, I am happy because I visited my college this past weekend. I walked around campus and remembered lots of little things—who I sat on that bench with, where I ate the most deliciously unhealthy meals, what sidewalks got to eavesdrop on my heartbreak. It’s all still there and so are my friends and everything about it is as beautiful as I left it.
And then I am sad, because I had to come back here and wake up early and go to work. College has gone on existing. It is difficult to fathom my campus without me, me without it. There used to be a hole in the Boston College atmosphere where I fit perfectly, and I am afraid that pockets of me are still left behind there, in those gaps. I’m afraid that there are holes in me now that I won’t know how to fill.
Read MoreTwenty-three has been the hardest year of my life, straight up. And I say that with zero melodrama and with the common sense that there will be years ahead that are worse and years ahead that are better. I know many of you can relate. Maybe this is just our early 20s, or maybe this is just life—this pendulum swinging between the dark and light, wandering and arriving, wondering and knowing, grief and joy.
Read MoreMy five-year anniversary as a coordinator in academia arrived this month, and with it came a reality check. I graduated six years ago, and the goals I set out with are not the ones I have met since then. This can be a terrifying thing to realize, as though your ride in life took a detour and you only noticed at the end destination. The truth, however, is more complicated than that.
Read MoreI have about a thousand memories of fall tucked away in my back pocket—any one of them, if pulled out at the right time, would have me spiraling into a fit of nostalgia. Fall is a special time of the year. Even if you weren’t the first in line to grab a pumpkin spice latte on September 1st, I’m sure there is something in your spirit that this statement resonates with.
Read MoreI bought a painting today to help my room look a little more homey, to help ease the tension of being here and wanting and waiting to be home. It’s the New York City skyline looking towards Manhattan over the Brooklyn Bridge. I walked across that bridge in the pouring rain last year; I looked up into that skyline on the anniversary of 9/11, so scarred with pale blue lights marking what used to stand tall. I flinched as planes roared over the hundreds gathered around the memorial. I bought books and drank coffee and rode the subway; I fell in love with a new city, unexpectedly.
But I knew the feeling deeply, as if written in my DNA, because I had felt it before, six years ago, walking much different streets, drinking chai, not coffee, and taking autos and overcrowded buses.
Read MoreI have a new job, which is why I now wake up before the sun. It’s a nonprofit job, an Americorps job; I don’t get paid much (read: like, below minimum wage), so I have a second part-time job on top of this new full-time job. Throughout the day, my inboxes fill up with my other two “jobs”— freelance work for another nonprofit and running That First Year.
I’m busy.
But I know this busyness isn’t unique to me. You’re busy, too. We all are.
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