Thursday, August 3, 2017

this time last week

This time last week I was turning 22. 

I was in the middle of nowhere Wyoming, on a wildlife preserve with two friends and three strangers. We saw a golden eagle up close, a few from afar. We cast lines and tried to catch fish. I was unsuccessful.

I took zero pictures. I did record some of the audio though. It might be one of my most treasured audio recordings to date. In the recording, you can hear the lapping of water against the boat, the chirping of birds, and the random conversation of four experienced fishermen contemplating life in all its forms. At one point, you can hear me snort while laughing, then say “gross,” when one of them dares another to eat a fly for twenty-five bucks. Someone mentions eating guinea pigs, fishing with Velveeta, some crazy dude he met hunting. Someone’s bubble butt.

The water was smooth and fast, the grass along the banks long and soft. The sky was bright and crisp and the sunlight was golden.

It was not somewhere I would typically spend a birthday, or any day, but it was perfect. I want another and another. As I cast my line again and again and again, hearing critiques every time, I loved it more and more.

Gummy! Pause! Why didn’t you pause? Try again. Gummy. Pull back harder. Gummy. Go again. Again. Try again.

I had a moment the other day when I remembered what I wanted my life to look like when I was 22. I am so, so glad my life looks nothing like I pictured. No rings on fingers, no ‘perfect job' (lol what even is that), no apartment all to myself and no simple Sydney-lead life.

The picture at the top of this post was taken the day I officially graduated from college. This was four months post-grad, after I'd been working at Starbucks, contemplating my 'failed' life and wondering how I had gotten so far off the track I had set for myself. This picture was taken by my friend Kristen, who somehow captured the perfect joy and hope I felt in that moment... for some stupid reason I didn't feel like a failure as I turned that tassel. I felt like I'd be alright, and that maybe my story could help people, that maybe I could enjoy the whirlwind as it whipped me around and around.

My 22nd was still, in spite of everything, so happy, so adventurous, so new and gone so fast.

Here I go into my 23rd year, more excited than I’ve ever been and I have zero plans. I cannot emphasize how little I’ve planned my life from this moment forward and how unlike me that is. I spend my working days planning for my business, scheming there, but in my own life, for the first time in I’m pretty sure forever, I’m not making my own plans. Yeah, I still have goals. They’re lofty and maybe unattainable, and their tucked into my heart, but in terms of set plans… baby, I got nothin’. For the first time, I’m going with the flow.

I’m riding down the Green River with two friends and three strangers, casting my line to the tune of “try again.”

I absolutely love it. 

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

The Snow

The snow 
It casts an ethereal, shimmery blue across everything 
The sun sets, it still illuminates light 
Glimmering in the sun, it blinds drivers and passer-bys 
So peaceful, so messy, so pretty 

I'm not meant to write poetry, but glancing out my window at the snow last night brought all the feelings I could imagine, so I mustered up a poem. Not too shabby, eh? 

Wednesday, January 4, 2017

welcome to 2017

Supposedly, to become a better writer it is highly encouraged to write every single day.

I fight daily with myself to achieve this goal. It's not that I don't want to write, but some days I feel uninspired or bored, realizing more and more that those dreaded essay prompts from high school are actually very welcoming when all your brain can think about is how cold its toes are and would you put on warmer socks, please.

I am not going to make banal promises about blogging more frequently this year. I have lied to myself too many times about that and, quite frankly, I'm tired of myself being so silly. This way, the blog posts will be as much of a surprise to me as they are to you, and then I can start setting deadlines for myself again. Say we start this in February or March?


If I haven't come here to write or tell you about how I will write, why did I come back at all?

Who knows! Your guess is as good as mine.

All I know is that after graduating college this December, I felt such a weight lift off my shoulders I felt like I could finally stand up straight again. I didn't realize how much college wore me out and how often I stuck my nose in a book instead of standing up, stretching a bit and enjoying a thing or two. I feel ready to read fun books again.

Since graduating I've been feeling very relieved for a moment to not think about deadlines or stress immensely about getting a job. This has, by far, been most challenging for me. I really want a job. I really want a job. I know most grads probably say that (who doesn't?). I have worked since I was 14 years old, and not having a job has nearly caused me to break out in hives every morning, but I know that my brain and weary shoulders need a break.

Graduating early was great and all, but I'm wore-out. And that's okay to admit, isn't it? I'm no good to an employer, dead or alive, if I'm a walking zombie with a diploma.

Happy January, friends. May your year be merry, your hearts be happy and your mouth ready to say "no!" when you're sacrificing your sanity for the American Dream.