"Justifying reasons why is an absolutely insane RESOLUTION to live by" - Jason Mraz

Well, it's the new year. Time to make resolutions and consider expectations for the year.

I'm not good at resolutions. I tend to be better at reflecting than I am at looking ahead, at least in a realistic way. I'm impatient, so I tend to know the things I want the future to bring, but am not very good at waiting for them to come to pass. I am also really great at thinking of the various things I want to accomplish, and even maybe concocting a plan as to how I should go about doing so before epically failing at the follow through.

So, with the new year and the flood of new resolutions people are making, there are tons of things I could put on a list of things I'd like to accomplish this year: Finish that novel I've been working on for years (ha!), lose weight, exercise more, write more, eat better, cook more...the list of things I should do goes on and on.

But..I likely won't be any more successful things at any of those things than I have in the past. I'll focus on them intermittently, sure, but it'll be in spurts. I'll do a GREAT job of going to yoga every week for a month or two and then....I won't. I'll be super proud of myself for eating broccoli one night, and then kill a frozen pizza by myself the next. I know myself well enough after all of these years to know that these resolutions that sound so great (and are worthwhile) will probably fall apart before January is even over.

And yet, I'm here. Writing about resolutions. So, clearly, I'm looking to achieve something, right?

2016 was a hard year. Admittedly, for me, it started in 2015, and as I sat here at this time last year, I told myself 2016 was going to be better. I don't know that it was. 2016 was enlightening, in that it showed me some of the wonderful things I have going for me at the same time that it highlighted some of the ways in which I'm so far from where I want to be. Life is never going to be perfect, and we have to take the good with the bad. I think what 2016 taught me was that, even in those moments when the shit storm seems to be pouring down all around you, that's when you need to focus on the good things in your life even more. I have a lot of good, even on the days when the bad feels suffocating, and turns me into a real bitch.

Here I am now, then, in 2017. You bet I'm hoping for a better year than 2016, for me and a lot of other people in my life. I'm not foolish enough to believe that it will be all sunshine and roses to make up for the year that just ended. There will be bumps and bruises, and 2017 holds plenty of uncertainty. So I'm going to try and set some resolutions. I may not achieve them all, but I think just trying to keep them in mind in the year ahead might help me keep things in perspective

• Re-Read Harry Potter - because it's long overdue, and it will be fun to revisit. Plus, I've got a bet going with a 10 year old about who will finish the series first, and I need to at least try to give him a run for his money.
• Be a good friend/daughter/sister - I am surrounded by so many great people in my life, and I want to try and give back to them. I want to spend time with the people I love, and be the best friend, daughter, sister, etc. that I can be to them. They deserve that.
• Go on a vacation. That requires me to leave home - I can stay-cation like a BOSS. And do, at least once a year. But I think there's something to be said for actually leaving home and getting away from the stresses and obligations of every day life. I want to see a new place, and make new memories. 
• Read. A lot. - Okay, so I do this anyway. I'm pretty sure it's a resolution I can keep to myself, plus I just freaking love talking about books with people. Gotta keep the good going. 
• Walk Cassie more - This is more like those traditional resolutions, but...it's good for her AND for me. And she deserves me making more of an effort to get her out more. It's bonding time, and we could both use the fresh air. Just maybe not when the weather is in single digits....
• Get out of my head/CHILL OUT  - I am SO GREAT at convincing myself I'm the worst sometimes. My best friend isn't answering my texts as quickly as usual? I'm super annoying and she probably hates me. Someone doesn't want to eat the cupcakes I made? They must be terrible, I should just throw them all away. Cassie won't cuddle with me? I'm the worst dog mom ever. I can be a bit overdramatic, and am way harder on myself than I tend to be on people around me. I need to work on not taking everything personally sometimes, and giving myself a little more credit than I do.
• Don't let the introvert win all the time. I am a homebody and a couch potato. I love reading, and I love watching TV and movies, I like time spent alone, and I can talk myself about doing just about anything that requires me getting up off the couch on a lazy Sunday. Which makes this probably one of the toughest resolutions for me to try and keep. But I want to say yes more, get off my couch more. Because what I've noticed this year? It's those lazy Sundays that start out great on the couch, and by Sunday night, all those crazy thoughts in my head (see above) have taken over. If I want to experience more, I need to do more. Just as long as I still leave myself some time for the TV and reading....

So, here's to 2017. Whatever your goals for the year are, I hope you achieve them, or at least gain something by working toward them, even if you don't do quite what you tried to. We learn a lot from our failures, right? I know I certainly have. 

Thus ends my New Year's post - maybe I'll be back sooner than I think, even though I'm not officially resolving to write more for 2017, Who knows what the year will bring.. ;-)

This is the Year!

"It’s been said that in Chicago there are two seasons, winter and construction. For Cubs fans, there is only one, and it always comes next year"  – Rick Talley

Well, it's the next morning, and while there's a thick layer of fog outside, my head is clear enough to remember:

The Cub won the World Series yesterday.

It wasn't a dream, or a fantasy. Last night, after 108 years, the Cubs actually won the World Series, after a game (not to mention the series itself) that probably nearly killed the legion of Cubs fans watching.

Throughout the series, people were sharing stories of the role the Cubs played in their lives, which has had me me thinking about my own. And it's not really that exciting, or harrowing, and I know what I'm feeling probably doesn't even come close to rivaling what other people I know feel right now.

But you know what? I'm gonna share it anyway.

I'm not a sports fan. This is fairly common knowledge to people who know me. I can recognize that the Hawks are good, but can't say I've watched more than a few minutes of a game. My interest in the Bulls started and ended with their 3-peat run, and an impromptu celebration parade in my best friend's front yard. And I hate, HATE football. Unless it's fictional football, with Coach Eric Taylor and Tim Riggins via one of the best shows ever created, Friday Night Lights.

The exception was, and has always been, the Cubs.

I tell people that I was born and raised a Cubs fan. I do not think I am being hyperbolic with that statement.

My dad is one of the biggest Cubs fans I know. He grew up on the north side of Chicago, and is one of those people that definitely bleeds Cubbie blue, through thick and thin. Winning or losing, he loves that team, and always has faith that next year could be the year for them. (Well, Dad -- THIS YEAR was finally the year!).

I remember going to Cubs games at Wrigley with my dad when I was little. It was the glory days of Ryne Sandberg and Mark Grace, Harry Caray announcing. I remember deciding early on that Ryne Sandberg was definitely my Cub (and person who played a sport) ever -- nevermind the fact that I wouldn't actually realize his name was "Ryne" and not "Ry-AN" for too many years. Needless to say, seeing Ryne Sandberg at the World Series game this year was pretty exciting for me. Or, at least, 7 year old me.

Wrigley Field was also where my significant near-sightedness was found out. My dad, in an ongoing (and probably, fairly often, failed) attempt to explain to me what was going on, pointed me to the scoreboard and asked me to read something off of it. I couldn't. I wasn't just being stubborn and difficult -- I just literally couldn't make out the numbers on the scoreboard. I had hidden this fact well in school, where I regularly borrowed my friend's glasses to see things on the chalkboard. The Cubs had me found out, though, and at that game I was busted.

It was these early experiences that I think solidified the Cubbie blue running through my own veins. Even if I didn't understand the game, or it mostly felt boring to me, the fact is those early years at Wrigley with my dad left a permanent mark, even if I didn't, or don't, always seem to show it. The honest truth is this: The sight of the Cubs logo always makes my heart beat just a little faster.

There's something about that red and blue "C" that wormed its way into my heart early on in my life, and won't let go. And there's an energy that surround Wrigley for me that is sort of indescribably. When I go to Wrigley, there's an excitement that flutters behind my breastbone rivaled only by events like concerts I've been highly anticipating. That love of that field transcends whatever players call it home any given year. Wrigley is its own entity, a glorious symbol of all of the hopes and dreams and camaraderie it has housed over the years. It's a special place.

People will call me a fairweather fan -- my dad would probably be one of them -- and maybe they're right. The thing is, despite my ignorance of most things sports-related, the Cubs are always at least on the peripheral for me. After watching the playoffs this year, I can tell you the names of some of the Dodgers, and a LOT of the Indians. But, even in the years when it seems like I'm not paying attention or watching any of the games, I can ALWAYS name a handful of Cubs. Even though I'd be hard pressed to name any other baseball player on any other team. The Cubs are always on my radar, whether it appears that way or not.

I'm not going to claim to be the die-hard fan like so many people I know and love. I get it, I haven't earned my stripes in that regard. Fine. I could watch every single Cubs game from now until forever and still wouldn't be in the exclusive club my brother and I are in together when it comes to the Cubs. I'll probably always still say stupid things and share my commentary about people's looks or attitude (I still stand by the fact that Contreras is fiery, and I like that about him). If that makes me a lesser fan, then so be it.

The thing is...I've watched every single game for the last few weeks. I've been a nervous wreck. I've allowed myself to CARE in a way that I don't usually when it comes to sports. I let that wall between me and a bunch of athletes come down, and man...it was PAINFUL, and EXCITING. I got superstitious, and paranoid, and had so much anxiety during last night's game I thought I'd pass out. The elation I felt when it was all over was incredible. I wanted to hug ALL THE PEOPLE AND THINGS! I could't stop watching the post-game footage. It was amazing, and it made giving up my normal live and TV up for the better part of a month completely worth it.

And if it hadn't turned out the way it did last night? It still would have been worth it. Because the Cubs are worth it. There's a reason that logo stirs the blue running through my veins. Yeah, it's an especially exciting time to be a Cubs fan -- but the thing about being a Cubs fan is that even when it doesn't feel exciting to be one, the loyalty is there. And the belief that they can and will do great things again.

So, GO, CUBS, GO!

Thanks for providing the backdrop to so many moments in my life. And thanks Dad for making sure the Cubs got in my blood early on. Even though you don't think I'm listening, some things manage to worm their way in every now and then ;-).

"In order to cure a feeling of malaise, you have to throw light on it" - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Sometimes, I'm here because I just feel the need to write or have something really specific I feel the need to write about. Today, I'm here because I just feel kind of...unsettled.

I think I may have written about this before, but do you ever find yourself in the middle of a couple of days where you just feel kind of blah? I've been like that the last couple, and I always hate this feeling. It seems to come out of nowhere, and it has me doubting myself and things in my life. 

Today, it feels the same and different than in the past. The same because I remember the feeling, and know it always manages to pass. Different, because my life in general feels on the cusp right now. I'm in this place where I know I'm about to head in a different direction and I really don't know how it's going to go. 

It's different today too, because on top of the general feeling of malaise (by the way, I just looked up the definition of malaise? It pretty much is EXACTLY the blah feeling I described: "a general feeling of discomfort, illness, or uneasiness whose exact cause is difficult to identify" Why does such a cool-sounding word represent something so crappy and uncomfortable?), there's guilt, too. And just discomfort in general. Yesterday, instead of spending the day with two of my best friends, our plans fell through and part of the day ended up being really crappy. And when the super crappy part of the day hit, for a few minutes, I felt like I didn't really have anyone I could talk to about it, for a number of reasons. And it was a crappy, scary feeling.

My life has changed a lot in the last year. It's about to change even more. Everything that's happened has made me learn a lot about myself. And sometimes doubt myself. There's a lot I've lost, but it's also made me realize how much I have. I have a great support system of friends and family, and amazing coworkers. But on days like today (that damn malaise firmly set in), it all feels so precarious. What if I say the wrong thing and push someone important away without realizing it? What if, on the flip side, I'm too NEEDY and push someone away because that's weird. And then, because I'm me, when I feel weird or uncertain or in need of reassurance, I don't shut up. I want to keep some thread of connection. 

Which is why I'm here I guess. Writing emo blogs is cheaper than therapy? I know the malaise will pass, and the doubts and fears that are so present right now will fade. Not that they won't resurface again, but they'll take their place in the background until the next "blah" few days roll around. There doesn't seem to be any magic cure for days like these, and tomorrow I could wake up and everything will look and feel different than it does today. But today, nothing was on TV, and I couldn't focus on my book, and my mind swims with regrets and wishes. Which brought me here, to write about it. And (probably against my better judgment) share it. 

I'm sure the cloud will lift soon, and I'll look at this post and wonder why I felt the need to be so publicly whiny. But for now, here this is. And hopefully between this and cuddles with this adorable face....

 

I can start to feel like things are back on track. Hopefully I'll be back soon, with a sunnier post. 

"Everybody's Working for the Weekend"...On Life and Figuring Out What to Do with it....

I remember, from a very young age, having a strong desire to be a teacher when I grew up. I loved school, loved learning, and could think of no better job when I was a grown-up, than to have a class full of my own students. I would read books to them, and grade their math worksheets with my red pen, and it would be wonderful. At home, I would line my stuffed animals up in my bedroom and read stories to them, or lecture them on some important topic (I chose my stuffed animals because they were generally far more cooperative than my young siblings who had no respect for my authority). At my grandma's, I would dress up in her old work clothes and heels, take the math workbooks she had sitting around, pack them up in one of her old briefcases, and head off to "school" where I would run the perfect classroom (sometimes made up of my siblings and cousins...sometimes made up of invisible students who, once again, were often much more well-behaved. Or, if not well-behaved, were poorly behaved in the way I wanted them to be), and then go "home," kick off my heels, and get to work grading those math worksheets. 

As I got older, and closer to actually having to select a career in the real world, my game plan didn't change much. My love of music and MTV drove me to a brief love affair with the idea of becoming a radio DJ (a VJ seemed like far too much pressure, though being a part of TRL was really the dream). That dream lasted throughout my freshman year of high school before I came back to reality, and back to the dream of teaching. 

I was always a good student. I got excited at the start of every school year to go back-to-school shopping for brand new, crisp notebooks and folders, the best (and often most colorful) pens and mechanical pencils. Each year was a fresh start, and the first day of classes and meeting my new teachers was always exciting to me, along with seeing friends that summer had separated me from. I loved some classes and teachers more than others, obviously, but I never hated school. I loved learning, and the satisfaction to be gained from getting a good grade on a paper. My parents never pushed me, I always pushed myself. I was never, ever the smartest person in class, but I was still kind of a nerd, and I was okay with that. 

I majored in English and Secondary Education in college. I had always been an avid reader, who had always LOVED books. I remember a lot of trips to the library as a kid with my dad, where I would browse the Babysitter's Club, Goosebumps, and Fear Street books to see if there were any new ones I had missed, before following him upstairs where he would look for a book or two before we checked out our latest finds. 

This love of reading is what led me to major in English, while that childhood dream of becoming a teacher, and my own single-minded drive made the teaching thing a given. Having been on the accelerated track in high school, my major was chosen before I ever took a single college class, and all throughout my time getting my BA, I never considered an alternate career path. Teaching was what I had always wanted to do, and it was what I was going to do. The only other thing I really wanted to do with my life was to read all day and get paid for it, and that seemed an unlikely career path. 

My favorite teachers in high school were always the ones who were passionate about what they were teaching, regardless of the subject. My least favorite subjects were always history and science. And yet, a fair number of my absolute favorite classes in high school (and even one notable one in college) were history and science classes, because I had amazing, fun teachers, who loved what they were teaching, and what they did. As a result of these incredible and dedicated teachers, I envisioned following in their footsteps: I loved reading and literature and discussion -- I would take that love, and teach books I loved to students, and get them excited about reading and English, and I would make a difference. I got excited about the book discussions I would have with the students who would one day be in my classes. 

Fast forward to the real-life scenario, senior year of college: Teaching was not what I had envisioned. It wasn't that I hated it, it was just not really about the things I wanted it to be about. Teaching was about preparing students to do well on a standardized test, and teaching what you were told to teach. There was little freedom, and I found myself at the end of this (so far) lifelong dream, realizing it wasn't what I wanted for my life. Teaching is an amazing and admirable profession and teachers do wonderful things, but it did not appear to be the thing I would spend the rest of my life doing. 

That dream came to an end about 10 years ago now (how does time go by that fast?!). Now, I am a librarian. A profession I had never really considered during all of those years in school, and yet the profession, I think, that I really belong in. I had a conversation with a co-worker recently, where she said that, based on her interaction with me and my knowledge of music, movies, and books, this profession seems made for me. I think she was right, even if it took me a while to realize it. 

I still love to read, and spend a HUGE portion of my life reading and watching TV. And there are so many people who go "Oh, you love to read! It must be so great to work at a library. You probably get to read all day!" Yeah....not so much. 

Being a librarian isn't about getting to read all day. The only time I get to read at work is maybe 30 minutes or so on my lunch break. Maybe. But, working in a library is great because it lets me work alongside people who love reading and movies and music as much as I do (okay, maybe most of them don't appreciate the Real Housewives franchise on the same level, but I can forgive that. Or hope they can forgive me for my not-so-guilty pleasure). I get to spend my day with people who are, for the most part, just as excited about reading, and entertainment, and learning as I am. We share the things we love, and try to make our library a better place for the people who visit it. 

And you know what happens when we make the library a better place? The world gets a little better. Maybe only in our corner of it, but you know what? Given the state of things right now, anything that makes people's lives a little less crappy is worthwhile. 

And I get to teach! No, not in the formal way I would if I had a classroom full of students in front of me. I teach in an informal, more subtle way. I help people figure out how to attach important documents to send to a prospective employer, or help them figure out how to access their e-mail so they can stay in touch with relatives who live far away. I help them discover just the right book or movie they need, or how to look for what they want for next time. I point them to classes or books that will teach them how to use that new smartphone or tablet they just got as a gift and can't quite figure out yet. I help those high school kids find those books they need for class, that their English or history teachers tell them they have to read, and will eventually discuss with them. 

Being a librarian was not the career path I had expected when I was growing up. Since I was that little girl who read to her obedient stuffed animals, I have learned that you can't always anticipate where life will lead you. Best laid plans, and all....But, if you're really lucky, and you let it, life will eventually lead you where you're meant to be. 

Right now, I feel like I am where I'm meant to be. I'm reaching people in the way I always wanted to, even if it's not in the way I envisioned. And you know what? That's okay. So I'll go on reading, and sharing, and let life (and the library) lead the way....

Growing Up Is Hard to Do

As a child, I remember being terrified of being an adult. I'd remember talking with friends or other kids at school about the day that we would, eventually, be bigger! More grown up! We'd have freedom, and wouldn't have to follow our parents rules anymore!

While some of that did sound appealing on some level (especially if parents were really cramping our style at the time), and though I did go along with these conversations ("Oh yeah, it will be SO AWESOME living on my own when I grow up!"), deep down  I actually wanted no part of it. The idea of NOT living with my parents was so scary. How would I do things?! There's no WAY I could live on my own -- feed myself? Take care of myself? No thanks. I'll continue to talk a good game, but I have it fine right where I am....

And then, one day...I was moving into my dorm at college. It was only an hour away from home, but for the first time in my life I was actually NOT living at home. I remember staying there that first night, terrified of adulthood all over again, wondering how this was going to be. How would I get along with my roommates? Again...how was I even going to feed myself?! At this point in my life, I had spent plenty of nights away from home, visiting friends at school, spending weekend with my boyfriend in his dorm room. I was enjoying the independence that adulthood offered, but there was still a comfort in waking up in my childhood bedroom on weekends, flipping through TV channels until I decided it was time to get up and maybe talk to my family. And, being an adult myself now, I had the freedom to pretty much come and go as I pleased, which was something my teenage self hadn't necessarily been granted.

I handled dorm living well enough. The setup of my dorm was perfect for an introverted, selectively social type like myself. I was in a suite with 3 other girls. We shared a kitchen and living space, but each had our own rooms, and two bathrooms to share between the 4 of us. I realize this is not the typical living situation for most people who go away to school, but I also don't know that I would have ever lived in a dorm if it hadn't been a dorm like the one I was lucky enough to stay in. I loved having my own room, and when I wasn't in classes or with friends, I was pretty much in there. I still have really fond memories of waking up in that little room and watching Ed or Adult Swim either early in the morning or late at night before I went to bed. Spending endless hours on AIM, and scouring the itunes playlists of my fellow University Center cohorts (the ones who left their playlists public anyway). I'll never forget the day I was on the Hanson message boards, chatting about the band, and discovered that another die hard fan literally lived, like, a floor above me. She and I are still friends today, and that chance chat online led us to see concerts together, travel to Tulsa to experience Hanson Day together, and just hang out and share music and life in Chicago.

So, yeah, I realized I could live on my own, but actually doing it was the start of actually, really, and truly becoming an adult. And you know what I've learned? It's not really all that it's cracked up to be. I was right to be scared of adulthood. The thing is, as a kid I never could have anticipated the things I should really have been scared of. Feeding myself really isn't that big a deal (most of the time, at least). It's everything else -- bills, and work, and....life. I think about all of the things my friends, co-workers and family members deal with daily, ranging from the really exciting and life-changing (marriage, the births of new babies, exciting new job opportunities) to the really tough, but no less life-changing (divorce, depression, unemployment, illness). Life is tough, and it doesn't seem to get any less tough the longer you live it.

Another thing I've realized as I've grown into adulthood, is I never actually feel any more like an actual adult. Even though there's really no denying I am one anymore. I kind of still feel like a 16-year-old at heart, and sometimes it really amazes me that people allow me to be in charge of things now! What are they thinking?! The biggest difference between me now and high school me is probably the fact that living life has taken away that sense of invincibility they always talk about teenagers having. At 16 the entire world is in front of you, the possibilities are endless, and nothing will stop you. By 30, that perspective has changed. There's still plenty of the world in front of you, sure, but reality has reigned you in a bit. Experiencing life has taken away that sense of invincibility you once felt. You realize everyone is vulnerable, and life can be really hard, and you were right to be afraid of it as a child (if you were like me at least).

It's not all bad though. The joys in life are really amazing. Celebrating huge milestones with family and friends, like marriages and new babies being born is so amazing and exciting. Even after the longest, worst day, I come home and see Cassie, and forget about it all for at least a few minutes. Even the obstacles life has thrown my way have their good sides -- you realize who the people in your life you can count on are. You learn to love harder, trust better, and lean on the people who really matter. And how to be there when they need to lean on you. Sure, making friends as an adult is harder, but the friends you keep and the ones you make seem to matter more.

So is life hard? Hell yes. But I think about where I am, and overall, I'm doing alright. I've learned things will never be perfect, and to think they will be or can be is to set yourself up for failure and disappointment. But I have an amazing family, great friends, and a job I really, really love. The rest will fall into place. And until it does? The teenager in me has some shows to binge-watch to keep me busy :)

"Fame is a fickle food upon a shifting plate" - Emily Dickinson

I'm baaaaaack. Only about a year or so after my last post, during which I'm sure I promised to make more of an effort to make an appearance here. Fail, again. Shocking, surely.

It's been quite a year since last January, that's for sure -- though I'm not going to talk about that. I'm actually writing today thanks to a couple of interactions with co-workers -- one current, and one former. The first was a conversation at work last week, that stemmed from quite a strong reaction on my part to Zayn Malik's comments about having wanted to leave One Direction essentially from the start. Anyone who knows me at all knows I can be vehement about my convictions particularly when they come to my opinions regarding pop culture, and the topic of Zayn's talking shit about the entire reason he's famous was no exception. A co-worker commented on my strong feelings about pop culture, and how I should share them. 

Another former co-worker suggested, via a comment on my Goodreads page, that I should start a blog to talk about what I'm reading, since I'm not exactly shy about my thoughts about books either :)

While I do find it hard to think that anyone else really cares what I have to say about either of these topics, it doesn't actually stop me from talking about them all of the time. When it comes down to it, I lead a pretty boring life overall, but I really do love my music, movies, TV, and books. There's not much I know, but pop culture is one of the things I really enjoy, and I'm okay with embracing all thing pop culture in my life. There's nothing more exciting to me than getting to discuss a favorite TV show or the latest great book I read with a friend or co-worker. So I figured, what the hell....maybe I'll try to blog about some pop culture stuff I've immersed myself in lately. 

Thinking of something to write about is tough, because I'm kind of all over the place with what I read and watch at any given time. I'm usually reading two books at any given time (one physical, one audiobook), and my TV watching is all over the place. There's not usually a rhyme or reason to what I'm consuming at any certain period of time. 

That being said, as I finished Tyler Oakleys book Binge today, it dawned on me that I've been reading/watching a lot of stuff lately about real people, particularly those in the limelight (because why would I bother otherwise?). And one recurring theme in all of those things I've watched is this, pretty much: Fame can and pretty much does suck. Like, a lot. 

I mean, I totally get that for a famous person to whine about being famous kind of makes them seem ungrateful (the same thing that I just bashed Mr. Malik for earlier in this post). But I'm not talking about celebrities ungrateful for their fame. And it hasn't struck me as whining. Some of the stuff I've been watching in particular isn't even coming from the celebrity's viewpoint - it's an outsider's view of the effects fame had on them. 

This first hit me a few weeks ago, after watching Love & Mercy, followed by the documentary Amy the very next day. They were both really good, engrossing things to watch, but left me feeling really sad. In the cases of both Brian Wilson and Amy Winehouse, fame brought them a lot of trouble, particularly in terms of the people who surrounded them and were there to "protect" them. Their intense fame led to isolation, which ultimately led to people in close proximity to them who took advantage of that isolation and need for protection from the outside world, and only led the to further trouble. Brian Wilson's story was so heartbreaking (at least as portrayed in the movie, which I realize probably isn't 100% accurate), because he really trusted the doctor who was "caring" for him, and who clearly didn't have Wilson's best interests at heart.

Winehouse's story was even more heartbreaking, since you could watch the trajectory from a girl who just loved to sing, to having fame thrust on her so suddenly and at such a young age, to spiraling into the depths of addiction. What was especially awful in her case was the fact that her own damn father didn't have her best interests at heart -- he knew she was his own ticket to fame and notoriety and he took full advantage. It wasn't enough that the entire world wanted something from her, even at the moments when she truly seemed to want to get better, he just wanted to get famous and benefit from his daughter's fame. 

Then you have stars who are famous on a slightly lower level than Wilson or Winehouse, like Tyler Oakley and Felicia Day, whose fame stems mostly from their work on the internet, which both of their books (Binge and You're Never Weird on the Internet (Almost), respectively) address. Online fame is a strange and new kind of fame in the present day, since the internet itself hasn't really been around all that long, and the rise of social media is even more recent. YouTube (and other internet) fame is an even more relatable kind than that of famous actors or singers, because when you watch a YouTube star, you really do think "hey, that could be me." I mean, Hannah Hart is famous for her videos of literally "cooking" largely inedible dishes while drinking. It's such a simple concept, and it's really hilarious. 

What makes internet stars even cooler, I think, is that they have a platform that allows them to make a real difference when they want to. What Tyler Oakley and Hannah Hart have done for the LGBTQ community, and Felicia Day's contribution to and embracing of nerd culture, is remarkable. These people represent everyone, and allow viewers to really feel like they're not alone -- they're heard, and these stars represent them, in a way that the worldwide humanity efforts of big stars like Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie don't. I mean, honestly, all you have to do to see the power of fame used for good, particularly on the internet, is follow John and Hank Green. Every year, they host the Project for Awesome, which raises silly amounts of money for charity and really seems to make a difference in the world. 

Anyway...I've gotten a little off track. The point is, this internet fame is a new brand, but doesn't seem to be without it's pitfalls. Oakley and Day both address the insanely hard work that led to the fame they ultimately received, but never totally expected. They both address the way this made them feel like they were burning the candle at both ends, losing sight of themselves in the midst of their fame. I think a unique thing about becoming famous through YouTube videos is that you are your persona, but you also aren't. YouTube personas are carefully crafted, and marketed with intention. Yes, Tyler Oakley is being Tyler Oakley in his videos. But that's not all of who he is, or a true picture of who he is. It's a weird kind of fame, and one that seems to make those experiencing it feel guilty for not wanting all of that attention at a certain point. After all, those fans who watch your videos and support you are the reason you have that attention, and the exciting new opportunities in front of you (like, in Tyler's case, interviewing One Direction!). How do you say you need to take a step back and take care of yourself for a few minutes? Luckily, Oakley and Day both experienced dark days and seem to have come out on the other side -- for now, at least. 

Another thing that came up in Binge was Tyler Oakley's love of and relationship to One Direction turning sour very suddenly, on the basis of a tweet. His response to a tweet by Liam Payne suddenly turned him into an enemy of the band as far as the fans were concerned, and ultimately led him to feeling the need to flee the internet for a few days, as tags like #WeWantTylerOakleyDead began trending worldwide. Day describes a similar experience in her book, addressing the dark side of the internet when they don't agree with you, and mob mentality takes over. As wonderful as the internet is, it's also a really scary place when the flood of praise turns to hatred suddenly and unexpectedly. 

Does the vitriol die down? Sure, eventually....but I can't imagine feeling like the entire world suddenly hates me. And honestly, at some point, they're going to -- we're all human, and as humans we have feelings and opinions, and if we share them, at some point someone is going to disagree. We'll say something that offends someone else, or is politically incorrect, or simply misspeak. The difference is, if you're famous -- those words travel around the world at lightning speed, and suddenly a statement or apology is expected. Which infuriates me, but....is a topic for another post. 

So, yeah -- the stuff I've been reading and watching has made me think a lot about fame, it's rise, and it's unexpected pitfalls. Thanks to the media frenzy that follows celebrities, there's no peace to be had by them, and it's honestly kind of amazing that any of them survive to be half-normal and keep plugging on like functional members of society. I mean, at the end of the day, celebrities are just normal people, really. Who have lost the ability to live a normal life, by virtue of the job they've chosen. Does it make me examine my own relationship with the celebrity stuff I indulge in? Yeah, to some extent. It makes me more conscious of what I say about celebrities -- particularly on the internet -- no matter how much I dislike certain ones. I wouldn't want to read some of the things about myself that I read about celebrities. No human deserves some of those comments. But thank goodness we have people like Jimmy Kimmel to find a way to make us laugh in the face of the worst of humanity. 

"Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come, whispering 'it will be happier'" - Alfred Lord Tennyson

Well, here we are, 2 days into the New Year, and my (seemingly) obligatory post is here!

While my writing on here is sketchy, I seem to make my way to the blog every January, talking about how I'll write more--I SWEAR I'll write more. Every day! Okay, maybe not every day...every other day! Once a week? Well, regularly....definitely regularly.

Yeah, yeah....we've been here before. I'm not going to go there. Do I hope to write more this year? On this blog, or elsewhere? Of course. Hopefully I'll follow through. But I'm not going to write about writing today. I'm going to write about ushering in the New Year.

The title quote of this post really struck me when I read it, because, honestly, I think it's at the heart of New Year's, and the resolutions so many of us make. No matter how good, bad, or mediocre the year being ushered out is, we all HOPE for a happier upcoming year. If the previous year was bad, we hope the new one will be better, will wipe out the struggles that we faced the year before. If it was good, we hope to improve on the momentum we had going. Regardless, hope is at the center of it. The hope that the year will bring us the things we want or need. The hope that it will just be good to us.

For some reason, this year I've been thinking a lot about last year and the one coming up. 2014 really wasn't bad to me. In May, I finally graduated. Which was amazing. The day I graduated, I got a puppy. A puppy that has been such a wonderful addition to our little family (although Connor would probably disagree). She's an amazing, lovable, wonderful creature, and as scared as I was to add a dog to the mix of crazy in our house now I can't imagine her not being around.

And then, on top of all of the crazy graduation/puppy stuff, in July I started an amazing new job, putting my degree to use, and allowing me to stay in  a place that I've truly loved working for. And while leaving awesome people at my other job was sad, and stepping into this big new job was terrifying, it's also been amazing. I love working in a library, and every day I learn something new--about my job and myself.

So yeah, the year has been good to me. But thinking about those awesome things also reminds me how scared I was going into pretty much all of them. That's the thievery new year we hope for change, plan to change, aim for better for ourselves. But what we tend to forget is that those changes we want, when we get them, are often really, really scary when we're actually faced with getting them. But they're also usually so worth it when we get them. There's so much at stake with the things we want most--seeing them become a reality just makes the thought of them being suddenly taken away that much more frightening. And then realizing it's not being taken away makes it that much more amazing.

My year, of course, was not without its struggles. Never enough money, never enough time, always something to worry about. Even the bad, things, though, give you something to learn from. Some of the stuff Patrick and I dealt with this year made me look at certain things and people in a new light. I was able to gain new perspective on people close to me, and found myself being a little more forgiving in areas that I was maybe too harsh.

Of course, I hope that 2015 will be good to us. I hope the good things that 2014 brought will remain, and some of the things we've struggled with will improve. Overall, though, what is most important is that I have a roof over my head, am surrounded by people I love, and am able to do things that make me feel happy and accomplished.

And hey, if I finally finish that book that I swear I've started writing, it'll just make the year that much better. If I don't, you'll see another post next January with another hope to make some more progress :)

Happy New Year, and here's to it bringing at least some of the happiness you're hoping for!

"Something's been going on and I don't know what it is..."

Well, nothing like a 6 month break in between posts, huh? And since I've had my novel-that-will-never-get-written open for a good 20 minutes now and haven't written a word, I figured a blog post was the next best thing. At least I'm writing something. Granted, this something is not furthering my protagonists in their journey, but oh well.

I'm not really sure where this is going to go, since I'm not sure what I want to write. I think the first place I went wrong with my attempt at writing today was putting my new Hanson live DVD on in the background. I honestly thought it would serve as good background music and inspiration. Instead, it is serving as an excellent distraction, as I keep actually WATCHING the DVD to see what is happening on it. Story of my life I suppose. Although it's moment like this one that make me realize that no matter how long I may go without listening to Hanson, I will never be able to let them go. All Taylor has to do is shake that tambourine a few times, and I'm hooked all over again, just like I was in the MMMBop days.

The Hanson thing is interesting too, I think because I've literally grown up with them. Like, Taylor is my age. Granted, he's also married with like 6 kids at this point, and a heck of a lot richer than I will probably ever be  (especially if I can't ever finish this damn book I'm supposedly writing), but that feeling of growing up with them I think has something to do with how connected I feel to the band. They are a link between my childhood and my adulthood, and it's almost impossible to listen to them today and NOT think of when I first discovered them, shrieking every time a new video premiered and watching my Tulsa, Tokyo and the Middle of Nowhere VHS tape until I had memorized every single moment of it, and spotted every stray Hanson family member that was lurking in the background. As an adult, my connection to them has obviously mellowed a bit (thank goodness....that kind of obsession takes a lot of work), but I still love their music, and get excited every time something new is released, and struggle with myself every time they come to town as I determine whether seeing them live is worth seeing them at the House of Blues for, and who I can wrangle to go with me (The answer this last October was no...which means next time I probably won't be able to resist).

Perhaps I should move on from Hanson....The holidays just ended. Well, Christmas did at least. It's funny how Christmas has changed as I've gotten older, too. I still love Christmas, and the promise of seeing family that I see less and less now that everyone is older, with busier lives. And it's interesting now that we have two little ones running around to see their reaction to Christmas and presents. It's so weird to be on the flip side of that excitement, because it doesn't feel like all that long ago that I was the little kid in that equation. Growing up is so weird. But Christmas was nice. It was fun, there was plenty of good food, and obviously time with family. Patrick's entire family was at his mom's, which was nice. We even got a white Christmas in the end, although that was far less exciting when it came to driving home in it. It really was one of the best Christmases I can remember in awhile, even though Christmas day ended with Patrick and I on the couch, crying at the Doctor Who Christmas episode (Yeah, we're dorks...so what?).

And now, a new year is upon us. I'm sure last year I wrote something about how my goal was to write every day (even though I knew I wouldn't keep that resolution), and I failed spectacularly, as usual. I have no idea what this new year will bring. It will bring my graduation from grad school, which is both exciting and scary. Beyond that, though, who knows what will lay in store for us. I'm not going to sit here and list a bunch of resolutions that I'll probably fail miserably at following through on anyway. There are plenty of things that I'd like to improve upon or finish. But I've been off work for over a week now, and the only real accomplishment I have achieved is watching the first season of Masters of Sex before it disappeared from my OnDemand. So I should probably set my goals pretty low for now. If all goes REALLY well in 2014, maybe I'll have that book finished.

Which I suppose is what I should (try to) get back to now. Maybe I can get a paragraph or two in before Patrick gets off work, and dinner needs to be made (ha!). I apologize for the rambling, as I'm sure this is all over the place and I shouldn't even post it. But I am, so...yeah.

Happy New Year!

“I can't control my destiny, I trust my soul, my only goal is just to be. There's only now, there's only here. Give in to love or live in fear. No other path, no other way. No day but today.”

It is with a heavy heart that I begin today's post. A little less than a week ago, I received a voicemail from my friend Erin's dad, saying he had bad news about Erin. She had been sick for awhile--I had visited her in the hospital a couple of weeks before, and she had worsened since my visit--and I knew even before I called her dad back what the news was likely to be. I just didn't want to believe it. I called him back as soon as I got home, and even as he gave me the news that Erin had passed, I felt numb, though my heart broke for the rest of her family.

It wasn't until I hung up the phone, turning around to see the blanket she had crocheted for me years ago when Patrick and I had moved out on our own, that I started crying. That blanket summed Erin up so well. It was such a thoughtful gift, personalized just for me. It was blue, because she knew it was my favorite color, and I know she put hours of love and care into creating it just for us. That's who she was.

Erin had the biggest heart of anyone I know. She was always thinking of others, remembered every birthday and holiday, and was just an incredibly caring, loving person. She won people over everywhere she went. Even when I went to see her at the hospital recently, it was amazing how she had befriended every person who interacted with her at the hospital. She was always able to do that.

It's so unfair to me that she was stolen away from us so soon. She was so creative and smart, and I know she would have done amazing things. It breaks my heart that for all the struggles she went through--always downplaying her pain or the severity of her illness so her friends wouldn't worry too much--she was still taken from us so early. Before she could achieve all of the wonderful things I know she would have.

I've always felt undeserving of her friendship, especially as the years have gone by. My life has gotten busier, and I feel that I don't keep in touch with most of my friends as much as I'd like. I can't tell you how many times Erin and I swore to one another we'd make plans--to see a movie, to grab dinner, to just hang out--that never actually materialized. It always seemed like we'd have time. We'd get to those plans eventually. Now the hourglass has run out, and those plans will never materialize. I can't help but wish I'd been better about sticking to all those missed plans, the movie dates that almost were.

That's not to say we didn't still have great times together over the years. From her putting up with my Hanson obsession to me allowing myself to be dragged to the midnight showing of New Moon, we definitely had fun together over the years.

I remember sleepovers at her house, watching The Craft.

I remember her scaring me to death when we pulled out the Ouija board (Pictures of Hanson on each corner of the board, because they were Christian--the closest thing I had to crucifixes), having me convinced that someone just down her street was being murdered.

I remember watching Coyote Ugly for the first time at her house, while I tried (and failed) to catch her ever-elusive cat. She was, of course, amused as usual.

I remember our obsession with both Gwen Stefani and Gavin Rossdale, and her encouragement of my plan to bleach my hair blonde just like my idol Gwen. Luckily, I never did this, though Erin was probably disappointed.

I remember singing along to the Spice Girls in her backyard, soaking up the summer sun and the freedom that comes with being young and carefree.

I remember all of these things and so many more about Erin. She was such a good person, and I feel like I was a better person when I was around her. She was always willing to give people the benefit of the doubt, even when I was determined to be a judgmental bitch. She could find the good in anyone, and was always willing to give whatever she could of herself to others.

It makes me so angry that I can't say these things to her. That I can't rehash the past with her, laughing over the silly things we've done, sharing our writing with one another, and just sharing life. I wish I had said these things to her when I had the chance, that I could have told her how much she meant to me, and how sorry I am that I probably wasn't always the friend that she deserved. It's not fair. It's just not fair.

Since I can't share these things with her, though, I'm sharing them with you. Even if you didn't know Erin, now you at least know about her. Maybe you have someone in your life that you haven't talked to in awhile, that the craziness of life has prevented you from seeing as much as you'd like. Call them, text them, have lunch with them. Let them know you love them. Because one day it might be too late to say those things.

I know today is a day about celebration, and that this post is not exactly a pick-me-up. But, Erin's life deserved celebration. She was vibrant, and loving, and original, and every time I saw her she had a new hair color---she was a living firework, in the best kind of way. So I guess it seems fitting that I'm writing about her on the 4th of July. Tonight, I'll look up and think of her.

Love and miss you Erin, and I know if you were still around, yours would be the first response to this, because it always was.

"No Winter Lasts Forever; No Spring Skips Its Turn"

Friends and family who interact with me on a fairly regular basis will probably quickly tell you that, for the last few months, I've been a little stressed out. This semester has demanded more of my time than others, and my ability to balance school, time with family/friends/Patrick, work, and time to just breathe has seemed more difficult. Add winter to the mix, and it's just been a blah few months. However....

Today was one of those seemingly perfect days. I headed to work, the sun was shining, and it was Friday. Turned the radio on and "Some Nights" by fun. was just starting. Stopped at Starbucks before work, even the long line I had to wait in couldn't get me down, and my caramel macchiato was heaven. I learned about a traveling food cart that sells amazing grilled cheese and french fries, and got food there for lunch. Joked around with coworkers, enjoyed the sun, and the music gods continued to smile on me. I was that crazy girl singing to herself in her car, dancing along the music. All day. Nothing could get me down.

And, I guess, there is really no point to that other than to point out that sometimes it's really just the little things that can make all the difference. It's the sun shining, the right song on the radio, and a coffee in hand on a Friday morning. It didn't take much to make my day awesome, just like there are other days when it takes very little to make things take a turn for the worse. Even though, at the start of today, I knew that I had a busy weekend ahead of me, and the homework on my agenda won't do itself, it didn't matter. I was still able to enjoy a day that truly felt like the beginning of Spring, and kept a smile on my face.

It's so easy to embrace the negativity in life. I know, I do it pretty regularly. I let people bother me, can take offense to things fairly easily, and can definitely hold a grudge. And yet, on days like today, I realize how much better life can be in those moments where all of those negative things don't matter. They can be brushed aside in favor of indulging in a solo concert in your car, and a laugh with a coworker in a sunny office on a Friday afternoon.

Anyway, here's to the beginning of Spring, and hoping that all of you have those perfect moments where life just seems right, even when obligations are still snapping at your heels.

If You're Crazy and You Know It...

So, this picture has been floating around the interwebs this week...

and it couldn't have crossed my path at a more perfect time, as this sentiment is one that's been on my mind lately, though I think Amy Poehler puts it more eloquently. And, of course, I am no comedienne. And yet, I can relate. Here I am, facing the last year of my 20s, and I'm not even going to pretend I have it all figured out. I clearly do not. I'm muddling my way through school, trying to clean up financial messes from years ago (will they NEVER go away???), and not sure what my long-term career aspirations are. There are still a lot of things in my life that need some figuring out and fine-tuning. But I know this: I am okay being me, even if that means I look silly sometimes. Don't get me wrong. I'm not immune to what others think of me, and I definitely want them to think well of me. I want to be respected professionally, and I want friends and family to be proud of me, and able to depend on me. At the same time, though, the older I get, the more I've realized it's okay to embrace who I am and the things I love, even if others think it's embarrassing or childish.

I love music. All of it. From Hanson to Blake Shelton to Dawes to Britney Spears to Mumford and Sons to Mariah Carey to the Temptations to Bon Iver...and on, and on and. And I'm not ashamed of any of it. I will never be ashamed of my love of Hanson, no matter how much you make fun of me for it or how to shame me out of it.

I love singing out loud, and dancing along to my favorite songs. In the shower, in the car, at home as I serenade Patrick to "Some Nights" by Fun., it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that I can't sing OR dance, I enjoy it. And you can't make me embarrassed by rolling your eyes as I make a fool of myself. In fact, that will just encourage me to make you join me. Yes, I will pretend I am Britney Spears as I dance along to Just Dance 3. But, you know, before she went crazy.

I love TV and movies, and think watching them is a worthy use of my free time. I love depressing movies. Blue Valentine? Loved it. Own it. Also, anything set in a mental asylum is right up my alley. I've always been drawn to the crazies I guess. I'm seriously starting to think Ryan Murphy just gets me.

I'm proud of my movie collection, despite the fact that it has surely contributed to aforementioned financial troubles. And despite having a better movie collection than cable, I still need cable. Yes, HBO and Shotime are THAT important. I mean, seriously, how can I possibly be expected to live without Game of Thrones or Californication? I can't. And I won't.

I fully embrace my celebrity obsessions, and remain loyal even after the intensity fades. And I do my homework. Need to know Topher Grace or Joseph Gordon-Levitt's back catalogues? Because I can inform you. And probably own most of them. We can have a Katy Perry dance party anytime.

I will never deny myself the pleasure of dessert. Life is too short to skip the cookie, and there are not much better things in life than a bakery tour that includes Sprinkles.

I am okay sitting at home on a Friday night. And a Saturday night. Wanting to stay at home doesn't make me antisocial. Or maybe it does. I'm still okay with it. There aren't many better ways to spend a night than cuddled up on the couch with my husband and my cat and a good movie on TV.

I love Young Adult literature. And that doesn't make me juvenile, or "less than," or dumb. I would be proud to be able to call myself a YA author one day. Anything that puts me in the same category as John Green and Maureen Johnson and Maggie Stiefvater and Sarah Dessen is absolutely okay in my book.

I am fiercely loyal to the ones I love, and if you hurt them, there's a good chance I will never forgive you. I don't have many friends, but the ones I do have I love dearly and hold close to my heart. I don't always see them as often as I'd like, but I'd do anything for them.

I can hold a grudge, and it takes me a lot longer to forget than to forgive. Forgiving can take some time too. I have high expectations for both myself and others.

I can be a little OCD and more than a little germaphobic. I don't think it's weird to wash your hands before touching food, and I'm not entirely comfortable with communal food days. That's okay, more for you.

I love butterflies and giraffes. I don't know why, I just do. I have a giraffe hat, and giraffe Mickey Mouse ears (thanks Steph!), and I love wearing both. I don't care if you think I look silly. Looking silly and not caring gives me power, remember?

I might not know everything about where I want my life to go, or the ways in which I will change along the way. I don't know what the future holds, and I only have a vague notion of what I would like for it to hold. But I do know the above things about myself. And I'm okay with them. I'm not perfect, and you will never hear me claim to be. But I know who I am, and I embrace it, and I can only hope knowing these things about myself will help me get to the places I want to be.

Goodbye 2012

New Year's Eve. The time of year when everyone sits back and reflects on the year behind them and the year they have coming up. Each year comes with its own mix of good and bad, and many hope to start out fresh with new resolutions and vows to make the upcoming year somehow better than the last. 

I've never been good with New Year's resolutions. Which is why this year, I'm not going to bother making any. There are certainly things in my life that I hope to improve, but I know myself better than to think that somehow forming a list of these goals and stating them here, in my head, or out loud to another person is going to help me keep them. Change only comes when we want it to, and when we get to a point when we know it must come. Are there changes that I need to make in my life this year? Probably. And I'll be heading into the new year fresh, hoping to sort certain parts of my life that feel especially chaotic. But I'm not going to set myself up for disappointment this year by telling you the list of things I KNOW I will focus on this year. Because in all likelihood, I will not be as dedicated as I would hope to be. 

The other problem with new year's resolutions is that, at least for me, sometimes it means saying that I will change things that I really don't need to change. For instance, I'm a homebody at heart. I enjoy a night on the couch with a good book or a great TV show to just about any other option out there. And while this makes me feel at times like I should make more of an effort to DO things, I don't know that it's something I really need to change about myself. I still keep in touch with friends, go out to dinner, and leave my house quite often. In fact, if you talk to Patrick, he'd tell you I'm not home enough. So why should I resolve to change something I'm not really unhappy with in the first place? 

The thing is, while there are some ways in which I disappoint myself and know I should try harder, overall I'm happy with my life. Yeah, more money would be great. A vacation that does not consist of me just sitting at home in Schaumburg would also be a plus. But I'm happily married, have a wonderful and supportive family, and a few close friends who mean the world to me. I'm employed, going to school for something I really enjoy, and despite the chaos that two jobs, grad school, and life in general can bring I still find time for my books and my tv. 

Do I write as much as I should? Absolutely not. It's the one thing I feel the most guilty about. I sit here, wanting to consider myself a "writer" and yet never writing. That is the one thing I have vowed to myself to change this year. Thanks to some gifts from friends and my own frustration with myself, I WILL write a book this year. I already have people holding me accountable for that, and I doubt they will fail me. I'm done making excuses for myself in that arena, and so by 2014 I will have a novel. I might not want to let most people READ it, but I will have accomplished this. 

In terms of reflection for 2012, it's definitely brought change, and 2013 will bring more. Recently I've realized that there are some people in my life I just wish I saw more of. Or people that I'm so proud of and feel like I haven't gotten to express that to them. I often fear that the people who mean the most to me don't even know what they mean to me, because I don't talk to them often enough or because peripheral drama takes away from my being able to show them how much I care. So maybe I'll be more vocal about those things in 2013, regardless of the risk of being the token cheeseball in any gathering. 

So goodbye 2012, and welcome 2013 with all the changes, highs, and lows that it will bring. Here's to more writing, less excuses, and more love in the coming year. 

Free to Be You and Me

Okay, so I need to vent. And venting here will save my voice and my poor husband's hearing. I'm also not going to think about how I should be writing my final term paper for class instead of writing here. I can worry about that later....

So, I let things bother me that I probably shouldn't. I tend to take certain things very personally, even when they're most likely not about me, have nothing to do with me, and would be there whether I existed in the world or not. And yet....I let them get to me. Facebook obviously is a huge culprit of this. A lot of people "share" a lot of things they shouldn't, whether it be information that's too personal to be online, or an oversharing of information that most people just don't want to hear. I try not to be that person. I go on facebook. I update my status, and comment on people's stuff. But I try not to be too obnoxious. Did I post or share things during election season that probably indicated where my political affiliations and loyalties lay? Yes, probably. Did I try to do this sparingly and without trying to be pushy? I sure as hell hope so.

My problem is, not everyone does that. There are some people in my newsfeed that are SO opinionated and post SO often that it's overwhelming. There are people in my every day life that are like this as well, so I'm sure this behavior extends to life in general. I just don't like being inundated with things telling me that if I don't believe the way this person does, then I'm wrong, or if I don't partake in the same behavior that that person does, I must be a bad person. I'm sorry, but just because I agree with you doesn't mean I am wrong or a bad person. And I don't appreciate the implication that it does.

We all make our own life choices. We're free to do so. Everyone decides how they are going to live their own life. What job they're going to have, who they're going to marry, if they're going to have children, how they are going to raise those children, etc., etc. Not everyone has the same values or makes the same choices. Nor should they. Variety is the spice of life, right? I'm not saying people should be free to go around and hurt other people or take crazy drugs and then harm themselves or others. But when it comes to those major life decisions, no one should try to tell me how to make those, or that I'm wrong for making the choices that I do.

I guess what it comes down to is that I've always had a hard time with overbearing people. There is nothing in the world I can stand less than a religious zealot, for example. The kind that believe their way is the ONLY way and everyone else is going to hell. That push and push and push, and don't care if you want to hear it or not because THEY ARE RIGHT DAMN IT. And if you don't agree with them, well, sorry, you're wrong. I know not all religious people are this way, but it's these overbearing ones that give them all a bad name. I've noticed lately that this extremism that bothers me so much with religion can easily be extended to other behavior too, and other choices that people make about their lives.

What's interesting is that, in the particular situation I am thinking of, I have two friends who pretty much went through the same experience and believe the same things. One of them is very vocal about it, stating their case every chance they get, telling others what they really should do. Another advertises her way of thinking far less. It's the way she chooses to live her life, but that doesn't necessarily mean it's the way others choose to live theirs. And I respect that, because that's how I try to live.

We are all going to make different choices throughout our lives. We'll make mistakes, we'll (hopefully) learn from them, and move forward making new choices and new mistakes. I know the way I choose to live my life is not the way others choose to live theirs. The choices I make are not the same choices my best friends make. And while I would always be there to provide advice or my opinion if it was asked for, I would never presume to tell them how to live their lives. Nor would I want them to try and tell me how I should live mine. Can't we all give each other that same respect? Respect that the choices I make might not be the choices you make. Likewise, I will respect the choices you make even if I wouldn't make the same ones. But that doesn't make either of our views wrong, it just makes them different. And really, that should be okay. Variety. Spice of life.

And with that...rant over and back to (maybe) knocking some more of this paper out *sigh*

Procrastinating + Rambling = THIS!

I've been absent for awhile, as usual. And while I really should be working on the homework assignment that is currently open on my computer, I decided to write instead. Especially since I've written NOTHING for weeks. I'm going to credit the writing bug with a dream that I had last night that I was determined to record upon waking, because I felt like it would make a GREAT story. Unfortunately, immediately upon waking I forgot all but the very basics of the dream, and the portion of the dream that I was so intent on documenting was the fuzziest part. Even my dreams are undermining my writing. Story of my life, I suppose.

I'm not really sure what I want to write about today. I have nothing in particular in mind, and life, aside from my upcoming weekend road trip to New York to see Joseph-Gordon Levitt, has been pretty stressful but uneventful to the average listener. The last month or so has been made up of a series of crap-tastic weeks during which I think each upcoming week HAS to be better than the last, and am proven wrong. Pretty much every time. News of friends moving, broken TVs, busy weekends, and a terrible work-life-social balance have added up to a lot of sucky.

At least this week, things have been on a bit of an upswing, complete with a commitment-free weekend, which feels oh-so-good, even if I am distracting myself from homework right now by updating this. No words can describe the feeling of laying in bed this morning, watching back-logged Glee episodes on my DVR and knowing there was nowhere I had to be. Granted, the feeling is only temporary, and before I know it Monday will be upon me once again, with everything that Monday brings. But for now I'm basking in the glory of two free days (even if homework has to make an appearance).

I think I'm going to end this now, as there really hasn't been much of a point to writing it, and the things that have been on my mind this week (like my conflicted feelings towards Taylor Swift---oh, how I both love and loath her at the same time!), are probably not share-worthy. I just felt like writing, and the weird part of my inspirational dream is very much NOT the part that was worth writing about.

On that note, Hi Ho, Hi Ho, it's off to grad school homework I go!

"So I just let go of what I know I don't know..." - A Jason Mraz Retrospective (of sorts)

I am going to start out today's post by saying right away that I am not entirely sure that what I hope to convey in writing today will actually come across the way I hope for it to. That's the thing about words sometimes. They can convey just about anything, but they require people to arrange them in a way that conveys them correctly. And when emotions get all involved in the putting down of words, sometimes the words just don't seem like enough.

Anyway, last night Patrick and I saw Jason Mraz. From the second row! It was pretty amazing, as I knew it would be. But my purpose here today isn't to write a concert review (although it would be a rave review, I assure you), it's more to convey what Jason Mraz is to me. I had a hard time even explaining this to Patrick last night, so again, I don't know how well I'll really get it to come across here, but I figured it was worth a shot anyway.

The first time I saw Jason Mraz was back in 2005 when he opened for Alanis Morrissette. He blew me away. I have never been so enthralled by an opening act, and I don't know that I can even describe how I felt during his acoustic opening act. Thus began my love affair with him. Since then, he's proven to be the soundtrack to Patrick's and my life together, as we started dating on the day I went to see him in Chicago and Patrick filled in at the last minute as my concert-going partner. I've seen him play on my birthday, Patrick proposed to me the day before we saw him play a couple of years ago (and had considered proposing at the concert), and his music was part of our wedding ceremony.

Anyone who knows me--and they don't even have to know me all that well--knows a couple things about me. 1.) Music is a HUGE part of my life, and 2.) I tend to get obsessive over things that I love, urging those I know to love those things with me. Jason Mraz ties well into both of those things, though I realized something last night. It started out gradually, and by the end of the night I was trying to put how I felt into words. It started when Jason sang "Lucky." We were seated in the second row of the arena, on the right side of the stage. During "Lucky" he came and sang directly in front of where Patrick and I were sitting. And I realized, while I was very excited about this, I was NOT freaking out. I took some pictures, a minute or so of video, and then put the phone away and enjoyed the performance. It was an amazing moment, but there was no urge to run on stage to him or hyperventilate (which my friend Erin can tell you has been my reaction in past concert experiences). I just loved his music and the show he was putting on. This felt like growth to me.

As the concert went on, he continued to blow me away as he has in the past with the great show he puts on and the message that he sends. And this is where things will start to get cheesy and I fear what I am trying to say will get lost in translation. I tend to think of myself as a fairly positive person. I think a defeatist attitude will get you nowhere, and if you want things to change in your life, you need to take charge of them. Complaining doesn't actually change anything, doing things does. Don't get me wrong, I can whine with the best of them and sometimes do a GREAT job of not taking my own advice. But overall, I like to think I'm more glass half full about life, and try to help others see the brighter side of a suck-tastic situation when I can.  That being said, one of the things I tend to have a hard time with is OVERLY positive people. Those who take the whole positivity message to the extreme, becoming one with nature, and harmonizing with the planet. That tends to be too much for me, and I roll my eyes and step away.

The thing is, Jason Mraz IS one of those overly positive people, with that hippy-ish, harmonic attitude that normally I would hate. And yet, with him I don't. There's something about him that is just so appealing, and that positive message somehow gets through to me in a way that doesn't make me want to roll my eyes. I mean, his songs are by and large very positive, even when they're sad. And he himself is a very upbeat person, finding the plus side and the peaceful solution in just about any situation. I told Patrick last night that, as cheesy as I know it sounds (and believe me, it does), I feel like the world is a better place for Jason Mraz being in it. Not just because of his music, but because of him as a person. There are not many celebrities I feel I can say that about, as much as the things they help create may make the world more enjoyable. Jason Mraz, though, really seems to care about spreading a message of peace and love, and leaving the world in a better place than it was when you found it. There's a moment during every show, I think, when he makes sure the crowd is totally involved, and even urges them to give a stranger a high five, dance like crazy, and just be free. And everyone listens. It's really an amazing thing to see, because at most concerts you have a bunch of people who do what the band tells them, while you have a large portion that are just like "there's no way in hell I'm doing that." But at a Jason Mraz concert, self-consciousness goes out the window, and everyone there just really has a good time for as long as the show lasts.

I left last night floating on a cloud of happiness that is rare for me. I feel that, the older (and more jaded?) I get, those moments of pure happiness and contentment get fewer and farther between. I don't get excited about things in the ways I used to when I was younger, and I miss losing that. But the longer the concert went on last night, the happier I felt, and that lasted with me the rest of the night (douchey teenage driver who cut me off in the parking lot aside). It still sticks with me today. And while this feeling is stronger after seeing him live and having his attitude rub off on me live and in person, it's how his music makes me feel in general. When I'm having the kind of day where EVERYTHING irritates me, the only thing that usually calms me back down and brings my blood pressure to an acceptable level is to put his music on. Before I know it, I'm calmer than I thought I could be and able to focus again.

The thing is, I don't know WHY his music has the effect on me that it does, out of all of the music I listen to. Like I said, I love music in general. I've been to a ton of concerts over the years and spent all the money I made in high school on music. And while I have other favorite bands, and my favorites have remained pretty consistent over the years, none of them has had the effect on me that his music has. As cheesy as I know that it sounds, and as this whole post as been, there's a magic to what he does that I don't know can be explained. One day maybe I'll get to thank him for that magic. But for now, I'll share that feeling with you and continuing being awed by it.

"Sad Songs Say So Much"

Have you ever noticed how much more powerful sad songs are than happy ones? Don't get me wrong, I love a good pop song. On a beautiful summer day, there's nothing better than rolling the windows down and singing along to a Britney Spears or Taylor Swift song at the top of your lungs. And yet, turn on some Mumford and Sons or Civil Wars, and there is something that cuts deep into me, in a way that Britney and Taylor never could.

I'm not quite sure what it is, but a great sad song that breaks my heart can make me feel just as good--and sometimes better--than a fun, upbeat song. There's beauty and truth in sadness, I think. Happy songs often feel so generic to me, but many sad songs feel unique, and yet the great ones really touch on something universal. I think that's what makes them so powerful, when you can cut through to the heart of people, and find a way to tap into something everyone has experienced, but you have to look at it in a new light. 

I should say, I realize I may be in the minority in feeling this way. While I do love fun pop songs and silly, fun movies, my favorite books, movies, and songs are often dark and sad. I realize not everyone feels this way, and there are quite a few people who will very consciously avoid the things I seek out. But I love sadness and darkness and conflict. Because it's something that we all have in common. Yes, being confronted with that darkness in your entertainment can be difficult and scary, but it also makes you think and feel. And that's what I love about great art--happy, sad, and everything in between--if it isn't making you feel something, it isn't doing your job. 

One of my favorite dark/sad movies is Blue Valentine. I freaking love that movie. I think it's so well acted, and yes it is terribly sad. But it's so well done. And part of what's so great about it is how REAL it is. You can't help but watch that movie and picture yourself in the characters' shoes. What happens to them could happen to anyone. And it's scary to think that your marriage could take that turn, especially seeing how happy they were once. But the fact that you can see yourself reflected in them, even when their lives are very different than yours in many, many ways, is powerful. And I think sad movies and sad songs and sad books often do a better job of tapping into that universal human experience better than most happy stories do. 

Why is that? Is it because while we're happy it's great, but it's the pain in our lives that lingers? Does the experience of pain make it more memorable, even when it's gone? I know I tend to hold onto and dwell on negative experiences and feelings far more than I do positive ones. It's hard to try and remember a happy time when you're not happy, but it's often far easier to tap into a sad memory, even when you are happy. Those experiences are more vivid. So maybe that's why no matter how much fun I have bopping along to "Teenage Dream" by Katy Perry, it's Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah" that sends chills down my spine.