Seasons of (Self) Love

525,600 minutes. 

525,600 moments so dear. 

How do you measure a year? 

I log on to Facebook as I see my friends post tributes to their loved ones. I read the stories of the college freshmen who had their lives changed by their pledge class, girls who feel as though they have finally found their forever, and people who fought diseases or unemployment because they worked through it as a family.

As I reflect on this past year, I can't help but think of those who I shared these experiences with. I think of the precious little I added to my sorority family, and to the sorority sisters who went above and beyond to be there for me. I think of the time I spent cuddling with my sister after we cried happy tears because the cancer was finally gone. I think of the guy who had a bigger pride issue than myself but still helped me overcome my fear of feelings. 

Don't get me wrong--I had some great times with some great people this year, whether it was the National Lampoon-esque New Year's party, my first Mardi Gras, romantic nights that could have been the climax in a Nicholas Sparks's book, the countless weekends at the beach, the spontaneous trips that always seemed to lead to I65, and some nights that I'll never forget, but hope others don't remember.

 

But the times that really stuck with me? Getting up before sunrise to go running, working 12 hour shifts at minimum wage to save up money for my trip to Spain, hitting up last call (at Starbucks) and staying at the club (Sterne) until closing, and racing the clock to finish articles for my internship before my 8AM class. 

I think about the lonely nights and the quiet mornings. I think of all the time I've spent alone. I think about how much I've written and the dreams I've realized. I think of times I wasn't sure I could go on, but I persevered. I think of all the times I simply went through the motions because that was all I was left with. 

As I drove home from work today, I began to tear up. Why? Because I did it. I survived all the trials and tribulations that this year brought. I was the one who drug myself through the hard nights and worked hard to become the person I wanted to be. It's an ongoing process, but in 2013, I made the hardest choice--to take the first step.

Sometimes you need to remind yourself that you were the one who carried you through the heartache...You should be proud of that. Having the strength to take care of yourself is the strongest thing in the world. via tumblr

I think about how now I run miles for fun while before you couldn't get me to jog if a velociraptor was chasing me. I look at my itinerary for Spain and know that every hour at the God-forsaken Florence mall was worth it. Every time I said no to going to the Cheesecake Factory or a Sephora trip paid off. I see that my room is actually clean and not because my mom yelled at me or I knew I had a room inspection coming up or because I was expecting a male visitor. I think about how freeing it has been to not have a smart phone for the past seven months and even more freeing to have been completely phoneless this past week.

This year hasn't exactly been a piece of cake, but tonight I'm going to celebrate a successful year by having a slice of the decadent chocolate beauty that my mother purchased.

Tonight, I'm celebrating survival; I'm celebrating the sanctity and the fragility of life. Most of all, I'm celebrating me. 

I MADE IT!

Hard Doesn't Mean Impossible

"You know that's going to be really hard, right?"

I only nod. There's no point trying to justify my decision. There's no way I could make you understand why I want to do this. There's no point in trying to explain how I will go about accomplishing this. It may seem out of character for me, but then again, being unpredictable is my forte.

I'll be the first to admit that I am a total girl. I love all things pink and sparkly. I have days where I think only Taylor Swift understands me. I would monogram everything I have if I was given the opportunity. Chocolate is my favorite food group, and my go-to on a bad day. My yoga pants have never seen the inside of a yoga studio. I like Nicholas Sparks movies and Elle Woods inspires me. You can almost always find my sorority symbol somewhere on my person. I'm majoring in Communications. I bake when I'm stressed out. I'm even at terrible driver.

Needless to say, it was a shock to my friends when I casually mentioned that I am going to start training now for next year's Spartan Race.

I love running. I used to run three miles every morning (before my boyfriend Mervyn took over my life). The freedom, the invincibility I feel when I run compares to nothing else I've ever experienced. Naturally, I would want to do some sort of race. If the opportunity arose, I could do a normal 5K tomorrow, but where's the fun it that? A 5K with obstacles that have been compared to military training? Yeah, cool, sign me up.

Never mind that I have zero upper body strength. Or that I'm no Spiderman when it comes to scaling walls. And that I have the hand-eye coordination of Helen Keller. (I blame my parents for the last one--they never let me play video games as a child). 

So, yes, this is going to be hard for me, but I like it that way. I'm the kind of girl who likes a challenge whether it recruiting the best girls for your chapter or throwing a javelin across a football field. Good things take hard work and dedication, each and every day. I won't just wake up one day and show up at the race. I will have to take my bad days to the track instead of the dessert bar. I will wake up and go to the gym to find the strength I need to complete the most physically demanding task of my life. I will have to push myself further than I have ever pushed before because that is the only way to make a change.

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. I feel like for months and even years, I've been craving something new, something a little scary, something that isn't handed over because of charm or connections. Even more so, I want to do something that even I was not sure I could accomplish. I'm done with excuses. I'm done waiting. I'm ready to work.

A little more discipline might be exactly what my shambly life needs.




*Image found on Tumblr

Riches are Relative

Have you ever been scared to check your credit card statement? Have you ever had to transfer money into your account to buy something for less than ten dollars? Have you been on a ramen noodle diet against your will? Have you ever considered sketchy activities as a means of income? 

Then chances are you're a college student. 

Some days, I get excited just knowing that my bank account isn't withdrawn. I feel like I have been perpetually broke for the last three years.

Can I get an amen?

The truth is, though, I'm not really poor. I'm actually quite blessed. I'm not starving (at least not in the Ethiopian child kind of way). I have a roof over my head. I have clothes to keep me warm. And if we're being honest, I'm not even struggling that much. I may have a hard time buying groceries sometimes, but I never go without. However, I don't have much of a disposable income. 

Why? I just choose to spend my money in ways that others don't. I choose to spend my money on my education. I choose to spend my money to help grow my sisterhood. I choose to spend my money by going on the trip of  lifetime. 

As I lie in bed, stretching out my aching feet, I am happy with the choices I've made and the life I have chosen for myself. No, I didn't want to spend my only break from school making minimum wage at my high school job. No, I didn't want to work 25 hours in three days when I need to be studying for finals. No, I didn't want to spend an entire paycheck on gas to go to Houston only to spend 15 minutes talking to someone through a service window. 

I want to go to Spain, though. I want to live in Europe for four months and unfortunately, that isn't free. It takes thousands of dollars, dozens of documents, and a million tasks that seem meaningless, BUT that is the cost of achieving my dream. 

I do things that not everyone does because I'm making sacrifices that not everyone is willing to make. As irritating as it can be, I would not have it any other way. Today, I'm making minimum wage, but it won't be long until I'm looking at La Alhambra. It won't be long until I'm drinking sangria with every meal. It won't be long until all my dreams come true. 

La Alhambra, Granada, Spain

Tell me, what isn't that worth?

*Picture found on Google Images

Quiet Corners on County Roads

I look out the window of my high school bedroom and see the sun setting through the trees in my backyard. I think of all the memories I had down at that little creek. I think of when my little brother and I discovered the bamboo forest. I think of the day my eighth grade crush asked me to his girlfriend on the back of his 4-wheeler. I think of the times I "slept on the trampoline" because I believed that it's not really sneaking out if you're already outside...Sorry, Daddy.

I always forget how quiet it is here. There are no sirens or helicopters. There aren't people playing  music in the hallway all night. You won't hear anyone say, "Turn down for what!" on this county road. It's more like "Turn down or else" when my brother plays Call of Duty at full volume. Or my sister singing Jewel lyrics while her boyfriend laughs. Or only my bloodhound scratching at the door because I have stolen "her bed" for the week. 

In the quiet, you can't be distracted as easily. In Florence, I'm not constantly yielding texting from friends trying to plan a lunch or coffee date. I'm not listening to my roommate vent about school. I'm not killing time before another engagement--I have all the time in the world to concentrate. 

Conveniently, finals are coming up and I have a ton of homework that needs my focus. However, after a couple of hours, though, my mind starts to wander. What-ifs start to consume my thoughts. What if it doesn't all work out? What if you should have gone done this path? What if you should be doing something better with your time? With your life? 

It is easy to be sad. It is easy to let your thoughts . It is easy to let the wind and the sea pull you away. It is easy to stop fighting and allow yourself to be dragged away by the current. Pretty soon, you find out you're drowning. The fight is five times harder and you realize this might really be the end. You lie in bed with your sad songs, aching memories, and messages that prove the broken relationships you are leaving behind.

Who wants to live like that? Who wants to ache? I guess the ideal answer would be no one, but that isn't really true. Sometimes we want to hurt, sometimes we need to hurt, but mostly, we just need to change the station. We need to find something to make us smile and realize that these thoughts are not reality. These thoughts are not what defines us or who we have to be. These thoughts are nothing more than fleeting moments in our lives. 

In high school, I was quite the dreamer. I read every single day. I would lie in bed planning out how the rest of my life would compare to the the lives of the characters I'd read about. I watched movies that inspired me to go after my dreams. I wrote about five or six half-finished novellas. For five years, I embraced the quiet and the took full advantage of the opportunities it gave me. I have faith that I can relearn this discipline. I have faith that I can remember what it was like to dream, to create, and to simply be.

We have to learn to embrace the quiet and  the things it teaches us. We have to notice that in these softer moments in life, we are given an opportunity to create something new. We are able to create a world for ourselves in literature, in writing, or a time of peace by simply sitting down by the creek. The only thing that matters is that we are the ones creating it and not being controlled by one. stupid. thought. 

*Image found on Google Images, but does look fairly similar to my creek. 

You're the Best

You're my favorite. 

You're my best friend.

You're the only one I can tell everything to.

I don't believe it would be much of an exaggeration to say that as a society we like superlatives. We like to feel that we have a special connection with a certain person. We like to think that compared to the other 8 billion people in  the world we are special. 

I don't really have a "best friend"--I have about five. I don't have one person that I go to for absolutely everything. When I'm upset, I don't always seeks comfort in the same person--I'll call whomever knows and understands the most about my situation that week.

Don't get me wrong--it's not that I am incapable of or do not desire long-lasting close relationships. That couldn't be any further from the truth. I'm just saying that I haven't found "my person." I don't have one person that I cannot live without. At some point, to some extent, I've had to learn to live without every single person in my life. 

I've virtually lived by myself for the past three years. I don't see my parents or siblings more than twice a semester (and that's if we are lucky). One of my closest friends is a girl that I met at church camp, whom I haven't seen in eight years. I've been involved in a few complicated, long distance relationships and I was always the one to fight to make it work. I have spent two summer and a few long holiday breaks away from my sorority family. These times hurt, but I always make it through.

The truth is, distance does not phase me much. I don't think that being away from someone makes them any less important in my life. I don't think that there's one person I cannot live without because is reality, every relationship we have is fleeting. With time, we can learn to live without just about anyone, if that's asked of us.

Maybe this is too depressing for you. For me, though, it is a reality and not one that I find sad. Am I saying my relationships are worthless? No. Am I saying that I don't miss my family or my friends? Absolutely not. I'm just saying that as I embark on the next phase of my life, there is no need to worry about me.

Next semester, I'm moving to Europe for four months...by myself. And that's okay. Am I scared? Maybe a little, but I don't think about it much. I think about how I have been given a once in a lifetime chance. I think about how I will have the opportunity to spend a semester being 100 percent selfish.

Am I going to cry because I'm homesick? Possibly. However, I am confident that I will fill my life with new people, friends I may never see again. I will find friends to travel with, laugh with, and share a drink with.

Wouldn't it be a shame to hold onto something here while I'm experiencing all that?

In January, when the sun rises on me, it will be setting on my family and friends here in the States. However, the opposite is true as well. Everyone will continue to grow apart from me while I grow...and that's okay. They can keep each other company because when you leave no one behind, you leave everyone behind.


*Photo found on Google Images

Double Standards

In every relationship, there's a "reacher" and a "settler". The reacher is the one in the relationship who miraculously landed the person way out of his or her league, and the settler is the one who settled. No one wants to be the feel like his or her partner is the better one, but then again who wants to know that there's something better out there than what we have chosen for ourselves?

Oftentimes, we want things from people that we do not always know how to offer. We ask, give me your everything, but they are lucky to receive even the smallest parts of who we are. We ask them, commit to us, but run as soon as we see the request on Facebook.

More than anyone, I am guilty of this. I am guilty of being scared to admit what I want. I am scared of being rejected, so instead of allowing myself to be pushed off me pedestal, to be vulnerable even in the slightest, I opt to reject those who feel this way about me. God forbid I ever am susceptible to getting hurt.

A few nights ago, I had a dream that I was engaged to be married. It could have been one of those terrible $1.99 romantic e-books—except a little more PG. On paper, my fiance was perfection. He was one of the best looking guys I had ever seen, treated me like a princess, and gave me the ring of my dreams (quite literally). I was so ready to share his last name, until I went home and ran into the guy that I could never have. (Side note: I must confess that both of these guys are fictional. I admit that maybe a dream about people I have never met before is not exactly the perfect metaphor to my life, but dreams are supposed to have hidden meanings.)

There are two types of people you'll have in your life: the ones you'll care about more than they care about you and the people that you will never give the chance they deserve. 

For the latter, we use the same excuses that are used on us, so we know that they are merely excuses—I'm leaving, I'm not really ready for a commitment right now, I don't want to spoil the friendship we have, etc.

The truth is, though, that sometimes there is legitimacy in these excuses. Maybe our personal baggage or complicated situations can be enough to keep us from getting what we want. In two months, I'll be living in Europe and I know that until then, any guy that is in my life has an expiration date. January 22, 2014, I am planning to venture off attachment-free.

Honestly? I couldn't be happier.

I'm not concerned about being a reacher or a settler because I'm just me. Right now, I'm having fun, meeting new people, and not too worried about whether the guys calling me are only in it for the *"R"  but knowing that until a man can prove to me he is worth it—I'm not slowing down.

Whenever forever comes, I won't be asking myself who is the reacher and who is the settler because I'm don't plan on settling, and I certainly am not one to chase after an unrequited love. I believe that when this time comes, I won't be as worried about pride. Because maybe love isn't supposed to be an uphill battle, but rather something natural. Maybe it's not about the thrill of the chase, or being doted upon, but rather being comfortable and making someone feel that same way. Whether I felt that with this guy, the next guy, or the one 30 years from now, that's okay because everyone knows the best things in life are worth waiting for.

Maybe I'll have a story-book romance and meet a Spainard who takes me for long walks on the beach and teaches me phrases that would make my Spanish teacher blush. Or maybe a current fling will stop me at the airport, beg me not to go, and promise to Skype me everyday. Or maybe, I'll get on the plane and spend four months writing, travelling, and going to museums alone, all the while getting to know myself a little better

Maybe all or maybe none of these scenarios will be played out because at the end of the day, my life is not a fairy tale. I'm not waiting on Prince Charming, or the guy who is perpetually emotionally unavailable. I'm living my life, loving myself, and for now? That is more than enough.




*When a friend of mine thinks that a guy is pursuing a girl because he is looking for a relationship, she'll say, "He's just in it for the 'R'."

**photo was found as a product on etsy. 

.

Don't You Forget About Me

 The In-Between Book Launch Party, 8/1/13

Dear Jeffery,

So, this is awkward. You're getting kind-of famous. I'm seeing your name on websites I frequent. I mention to my doctor that my brother is a writer and she drops her stethoscope when I tell her that yes, "The Jeff Goins" is my brother. Or when my teacher virtually begs me to get you to even consider Skyping into one of her classes. You're speaking at conferences I'm dying to attend.

Remember when you were sixteen and I was six and you smacked my face against the bed frame and said, "Love hurts"? As blood trickled down my nose, I was sure that you were the worst older brother in the entire world. I guess not much has changed in fourteen years.

Kidding—I just don't want your head to inflate.

For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be just like you. Except a prettier, blonde, female version. I cut my hair when I was three so I could be just like my Deeder. When it was my time for me to go to sleep away camp, I insisted on an acting seminar because I had just seen you perform on stage (Remember that awkward play where you were a gym coach? Also, the one where you were an Easter bunny) For my sixteenth birthday, I insisted on going with the mission organization that you worked for to have my own chance to spread the gospel and see the world.

I remember lying on your couch at 2AM bawling my eyes out this summer. You asked me to pre-read your new book,The In-Between because you wanted my input on remarkable quotes.You had written in the acknowledgments to my younger siblings, "I hope I make you guys proud."

Wut.

All I have ever wanted in my entire life is to make you proud of me. Most people don't have a sibling ten years older than them. They don't know what it's like to have someone who is more than their confidant or partner in crime, but rather their mentor. A sibling who has gone above and beyond whether academically-- graduating magna cum laude with a double major, or by travelling the world and accomplishing his dreams as a writer.

I read the comments on your blog from people like Mica who say, "Jeff, your words have been the catalyst for me to finally go after this dream. Thank you for publishing your words! They have brought me more than insight and inspiration; they've ignited purpose. I'm forever grateful." People who see you as a push, a light where they knew none, a reason to just keep going. I just want to be like, um no, he's mine. That's MY big brother.

I'm scared that somewhere along the way you'll forget about me. Among the travelling and the fame and the adventures, that there won't be any room for your baby sister (sorry Rhea, I'm younger). I fear that one day I won't measure up to the high standards you've set for yourself and for me as well, that I will mess up and be left behind. I worry that you will push me aside while I'm in Europe because you will become too busy with your own life. I fear that you will look at my life and not be proud of who I am or what I'm doing. 

So what do you mean that you hope you make me proud?

You are my mentor, my inspiration. You were my rock star when you played with your band Decaf at Lion's Club Park. You are my midnight phone call when I want to drop out of school. You are the person who introduced me to Christ and ramen noodles. You push me when I'm being an escapist and make me re-evaluate my priorities when I'm running myself dry. You helped me perfect my Spanish accent when I told you I wanted to go to Costa Rica. You made me the coolest girl in school when your band performed at my middle school in seventh grade. You remind me that no one cares what you used to be about to do, only what you are currently doing. You taught me that church wasn't a building with a steeple. You give me hope that someone out there will wait for me, like you waited for Ashley. You seem to be an expert on everything I love, with the exception of sorority life (but that's what I have a sister). I'll never forget all of our trips to Dairy Joy where you opted for a dipped cone and didn't understand why I insisted on always having a twist. Or the time you gave me your pog collection. Or when you told me that you wished you could have written half as well as I do when you were in college. 

Sometime in the '90s, Waterman, IL

And you know what? If I have to share you with the world, then so be it. If thousands look up to, nothing could make me more proud. If your only supporters are those who share your last name, I would be happy because I knew you were still making sure that your priorities were being a great husband to Ashley and a great father to Aiden. Because the biggest lesson that you've taught me? Success is nothing if it's from this world, if it's created by climbing a corporate ladder, or accumulating things.

So here's to you, J. Here's to the family that stays together through the crazy, but is constantly seeking to better ourselves and each other. Here's to all the times that you have and will tell me, "you're going to be okay." Here's to being an amazing brother to me, and an amazing mentor to thousands. I can't wait to see the man you continue to become. 

I hope that I can be for Patrick what you have been for me.

Love Always,

Poodgie

Get Lost With Me

I'm the world's worst navigator.

I wish I was kidding, but it seems every time I get in a car, it is never a straight shot to wherever I'm trying to go. Ask anyone that has ever gone on a road trip with me, but I usually get distracted and forget to look for the exit. Needless to say, I've grown accustomed to being lost.

Blame my adventurous self, but I actually love getting lost. For me, it is not a road trip if you actually make it there in the time allotted. I revel in the moments that would cause most people to have panic attacks. Perhaps it is the adrenaline rush I receive, but I love the challenge of finding my way around a new city, or even block of Birmingham. I see these times as a chance to become better acquainted with yourself and the people around you. I see them as chances to get to discover something or maybe someone you never would have come across otherwise. 

In the moments we are lost, we truly find ourselves. The moment we veer from our plan is when we are given the freedom to become whoever we truly wish to be. Only then are we given the opportunity to ask ourselves if we really want what we thought we did or if we only enjoyed the idea of it.

Right now, I'm in the process of planning a road trip to Houston, TX to acquire my visa. I'm hoping to make a few pit stops, perhaps in Gulf Shores or New Orleans. I'm not holding any expectations for this trip because I don't want to be let down--I just want to be. I just want to get lost along I65 (and whichever highway leads to Texas.) 

I hope to find monuments that should never have been built. I hope to make Vines with my friends and create memories that I'll be able to relive while I'm away from them next semester. I hope to find a new favorite snack. I hope to change the words to some ridiculous '90s song, making them (even more) applicable to my life. 

I think about every time I have ever made a "life plan" and I have to thank God that none of those plans worked out. I think about every spontaneous experience I've had that has lead me to meet some of the people who have completely altered my life. I think about the relationships that I pursued that left me brokenhearted and smile because none of those people were right for me. I think about when I realized that I could never be a law student and I was not really sure what talents I was left with.

If I'm being honest--I'm still lost. I'm still constantly trying to make sense of the things that happen to me, or to gain control where there's none to be gained. I still haven't found the person that I'm meant to spend forever with. I still am pondering what I want to do with the rest of my life, and hoping that somehow that will allow me to write and live at the beach.

Your life does not need to be in a constant state of shambles like my own, but maybe getting lost is not that bad. Maybe constantly making the wrong turn could still lead us exactly where we are meant to be. Maybe losing the map could allow us to embark on an adventure greater than we could have ever dreamed.

One of my favorite quotes says, "I marvel at how even the wrong choices can keep us on the right path. How the worst mistake can wind up being the best thing that ever happened to us." 

When Katie Klein wrote these words, I believe she was giving us permission to stop worrying. She was telling us to let go of those anxieties and just live our lives. As long as you know where you want to be, you'll be okay. Even if that changes halfway to your destination, then so be it.

At the end of the day, we have to remember that the first step is to just get in the car and go.

Now, what? Spanish Edition

"Pick us up. I am going to get some throwed rolls if it's the last thing I do."

As we sat at the mechanic, Dianne called the only other sister who was around. Her car had started acting up on our way to lunch and there was no way we were leaving the 251 until we ate at Lambert's Cafe. This past June, my big and I took a road trip to Gulf Shores to see another member of our sorority family. Dianne created a list of all the things we "just had to" do on our beach trip, including going to get some "throwed rolls." If anyone tried to divert from the plan, she shut them down.

When we went to the beach, my big was scared of missing out on what she believed to be a "beach experience." 

Last night, I got my official acceptance letter to ISA's Spanish Language program at the Universidad de Granada in Spain for the spring 2014 semester. In less than four months, I will be living in Europe. In less than four months, I'll be living out my dream of having the "study abroad experience."

I close my eyes and I imagine myself walking between columns on churches that are centuries old. I imagine what it would be like to scurry through halls that home paintings of artists I've only read about. I see myself sitting in the stands at a bull fight or cheering on La Furia Roja during a futbol game. My mouth waters as I remember my brother's stories of Spanish cuisine and fantasize about the meals my host mother will prepare. I picture myself pondering cobblestone streets seeking out attractive locals as I struggle to understand their think accents. I think of weekend trips to France and Portugal and if anything in my wardrobe would suffice. 

However, it doesn't take me long to wake up from my daze. 

I think of how I'm going to miss Dianne's wedding. I think about how some of my very best friends will be graduating and I won't be there to see them walk. I think of the trip my sorority sisters are going to be taking around Mardi Gras to New Orleans. I think of the spring break trip to PCB with all my closest friends. I think of how everyone around me will be having the "college experience." Without me.

Don't get me wrong--I get that this is the opportunity of a lifetime. If there's one thing I've learned as an adult, it is sad every time you say yes to something, you say no to something else. I'm skipping out on the ordinary to seek out the extraordinary and it is probably one of the best decisions I have ever made.

This past weekend, a guy friend told me I was selfish. At first I was a little offended, but now I think I'm okay with that. I'm okay with taking this season of my life to live my dreams, regardless of who or what I leave behind. I look at all the people I know settling down, getting engaged, and preparing to start their life with someone. I look at people who go home every weekend and consider their parents their best friends. And me? I am, though, moving to a foreign country by myself for four months. 

...but not for another three months. That being said, I'm going to make the most out of this year whether I'm in Birmingham or Barcelona. I'm committing this semester to experiencing all I can in Birmingham. I'm going to go for late night runs at Railroad Park, hit up Taco Tuesdays, go to even the silliest of mixers, to attend all of our home games, embrace the chapters that run long, stay up all night talking about love and life and my dreams and know that next semester, these things will be only a memory.

So, here we go. If I learned anything while trying to find a ride to Lambert's on that hot June afternoon, it's that all we have is now and right now these moments are ours. Let's live it up.

*We ended up getting to go to Lambert's and we all got matching mugs. 

Wake Up, Calm Down

9:05PM. 

I glance at my watch as I scurry out of the library bathroom holding my heels, dress, and badge. Three hours until my study room expires--I've better get started on the to-do list that only seemed to accumulate over the weekend.

It's time to finally set my routine into place. Recruitment is over and I can't make excuses anymore. I look at my Lilly Pulitzer agenda and figure out where to begin and how to assimilate my new "normal."

On paper, nothing is different. I still had chapter tonight at six. I started my Saturday running errands with one of my best friends and ended it celebrating the night with some of my favorite fraternities. I'm writing instead of working on my homework and eating a protein bar as my "dinner." 

My "normal" has changed not within my routine, but within myself.

I stopped chasing people who put in minimal effort in the relationship. 

I'm the kind of girl who can make friends with a brick wall (just ask my recruitment adviser). I get lost at parties because I end up saying hi to everyone I have met in the last two years. I consider five or six people my "best friend." I give away myself to people easily...and I expect others to do the same.

Unfortunately, though, life does not work like that--and it shouldn't. 

Relationships are not a novelty meant to be accumulated and then left to collect dust on a shelf. I've began to start looking at my relationships in terms of quality rather than quantity. As I'm getting older, I'm realizing that you simply cannot give yourself to everyone and everything because then there will be nothing left for you. The concept of minimalism is not about having less stuff, but rather about giving things up so that you can focus on what you care about the most.

The irony is that as soon as I began to let these relationships go, I began to feel a lot less lonely.

On this Sunday night, I am not crying over the relationships I've given up or will never have. I'm choosing to celebrate the ones that are still here, the people who have fought to be in my life. I look at my sorority sisters who would do anything to see me happy. I think of my best friend who, no matter how busy her week is, she will always drop what she's doing to have coffee or brunch with me. I think of my biological sister who would probably kill someone to defend my honor. I think of the girl who has been my best friend for my entire college and can only smile because she has witnessed all the stories that only Jesus should know about. 

Whatever this new normal will look like, I know that I am loved. And honestly? That's enough. 

Here's a cheesy country song to tie together all the feels:

 

 

Free for All

I take a deep breath and fiddle with the radio dial--not a single station seems to portray how I'm feeling. The depressing country ballads don't match the feelings that arise. Catchy top 40 songs cannot distract me from my thoughts. I settle on the classic rock station and reach for the button to roll down the windows. I figure the fresh air will do me some good.

I left the house in a hurry, not really listening to the pleas of my family. I squint at the road signs--I wasn't concerned about remembering to put in my contacts. I swerve, dodging the oncoming traffic. I guess my depth perception isn't up to par while I'm half blind.

I pace up and down the aisles of Wal-Mart, seeking to find whatever it was that I claimed as my excuse to leave. Contact solution, right. I needed to buy contact solution. I had a reason, a purpose to be here.

"Marissa Goins!" I turn and see the face of the first girl to befriend me when I moved to Florence seven years ago. I've seen her maybe once in the past two years. We make a little small talk, hearing the basics about each other's lives, not really caring enough to ask more. Neither one of us daring to ask what we were really doing there. We smile and part ways, and I realize I should probably get out of there.

I get in the car and vow that tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow, I won't run away. I won't avoid the truth. I won't leave at the first sign of things getting emotional. I promise myself that I'll do better, that I'll be better.

It's never that simple, though, is it?

"We were worried," my sister says as I slip in through the carport door. I hold up my shopping bag and shrug my shoulders. She turns back to her boyfriend and her movie, deciding against playing "Mommy" tonight.

I stare at the flimsy plastic white bag as I reach to turn off my bedroom light. I stumble into bed and think, I guess there are some things that you can't find at Wal-Mart.

Wanderlust

I scroll through my newsfeed and see Instagram pictures of my friends going on beach trips and studying abroad in exotic locales. I see a post with all my friends tagged that proclaims the former weekend's events. I see articles posted by my peers on how to find love in the summer while interning in a faraway land. I look at my desk and see the postcards from people I love sent to me from these places I long to be. I use Google Maps to look up the distance between my home and these places, contemplating getting on I65 and heading south towards my city, or towards the beach. I ponder the possibility of spontaneously buying a plane ticket to LAX so I can join my friend who is in Beverly Hills and shop on Rodeo Drive.

...but I don't do any of these things.  

For the next three weeks, I'm still living under my parents' roof. I'm working second shift at a job I don't particularly care for making just enough money to help me get by this fall. I'm living a life that I am not exactly ecstatic about.

I dream of being back in Birmingham with all my friends, eating at my favorite Thai restaurant, coordinating schedules and comparing our dreams. For a few seconds, my heart breaks seeing so much life and so many experiences happening outside of me.

Too often do we forget that life keeps moving on, people keep moving on--even when we are not there to experience it.

These moments are fleeting, though. A second later, I smile to myself and send a short message, telling my friends I cannot wait to be with them again, in a month.

When we become intentional about our relationships, distance cannot break these bonds. When we become intentional about our choices and our lifestyles, a few months away does not change anything. Living away from something does not mean living without it.

As sad as I am to not be able to go to a game at the Barons' stadium each week, or hit up the Birmingham Museum of Art for fancy soirees, my life isn't any less rich.

If I stayed in Birmingham to take classes or start a new internship, I would have missed out on so much this summer. I wouldn't have been able to spend three days last week in Nashville with my older brother and nephew. I wouldn't have been able to help with the promotion of my brother's upcoming book. I wouldn't be able to spend every afternoon with my older sister, my best friend, who introduced me to sweet potato fries and consoled me as she listened to my stories of frustration and heartbreak. I wouldn't have turned my dad onto Drop Dead Diva, which we now watch together every night when we get home from work (Shhh, he'll kill me for telling). I wouldn't be here celebrating my younger brother's 11th birthday with cake and a swim party. I wouldn't have been able to make massive strides in the complicated relationship I've always had with my mother. I wouldn't have been able to plan a last minute trip to Gulf Shores with my sorority sisters. I wouldn't have been able to save up enough money for my upcoming semester in Spain.

My older brother once told me, every time you say yes to something, you say no to something else. The beauty lies in the fact that is that the reverse is true--I said no to staying in Birmingham much to my dismay, but the blessings and experiences I have had in Florence this summer are unique to me, and unique to this summer.

Being one of the lucky few to get to pre-read my brother's new book, The In-Between, I was given the chance to give feedback before the book debuts on August 1st. When Jeff asked my thoughts, I simply said, everyone can relate to this book.

Right now, in my life, I cannot think of a more appropriate concept than the in-between. Right now, I'm stuck between two lives, living through the daily grind, but Jeff argues that this is our life. We cannot simply live by floating from one grand moment to the next. We cannot measure our lives only by the adventures we take, or the expensive things we buy, or the inciting experiences that we have.

What about the other 300+ days of the year? What's left to do with those? How do we "Carpe Diem," "Live life to the fullest," or embrace "YOLO" in everyday circumstances? How do we live our lives while we're stuck in the in-between?

Well, that's just it--we keep living. We don't waste our time wishing our lives were more exciting or by living for the next payday or summer vacation. We must find ways to love our lives now, as they are. Instead of trying to press "fast-forward" on our lives, what if we took a minute to listen, to enjoy the stillness of life?

Right now, I'm embracing this quiet time in my life. I'm sleeping later, reading more, and spending time with those around me. Sure, I'm not living a life that would make the average person jealous. I'm not interning at a Fortune 500 company or traveling to exotic cities. I'm spending time getting to know myself and my loved ones a little bit better.

Honestly, I couldn't think of a better way to spend my summer.

Inside Out

Love is all you need. When Paul McCartney wrote those words, I'm sure he did not realize (though was probably very excited to learn) the impact they have had on the past few generations. One line in a song has become the anthem of young and older people alike--for decades.

Most people take this line to mean love from those around us. If we surround ourselves with people with love and pursue activities we love, we should be happy, right? If we surround ourselves with positive influences, we will have positive attitudes. If we seek out happy experiences, we will be happy.

Every rule has its exceptions.What if experiencing this kind of love is not enough?

You cannot look at someone suffering from depression or anxiety and say,"Why can't you just be happy?" "What do you have to be sad about?"

A good day or a bad day isn't based on what happened that day. A bad day has nothing to do with an argument with a co-worker or a disappointment on an investment. A bad day occurs when nothing is wrong, but nothing can be made right. When you're lying in bed and begging yourself to stop thinking, stop imagining. A bad day is when you wish you could stop breaking your own heart.

Love from other people is not enough. It is not enough to hear that you are beautiful, that you are wanted, that you are desired by someone if you do not believe these things to be true.

After the movie Perks of Being a Wallflower came out, everyone began over-quoting the line "we accept the love we think we deserve."

Say it ain't so.

From my experience, it seems that we shut people out when we need a friend the most. We close ourselves off because sometimes we don't know how to be loved. Our souls are screaming "notice me" as our self-defenses prepare to take cover.


The greatest gift you can offer this world is showing them that you love and respect yourself. When you can look in the mirror and love what you see, you are the most beautiful you could ever be. When you can trust others enough to accept positive comments, it is in that moment that you are complete.

The very moment we realize our own worth is our defining moment. It is our second birth. It is when our lives really begin.

We can't always ask for people to love us or to know that we are thinking or needing, but we can be that person for ourselves. We can show ourselves that the core of who we are is worth fighting for and that we will do whatever it takes to win it back. When we channel everything that builds up inside of us--all the anxiety, into self-love, amazing things start happening.


*Photo credit: Google Images

Vanishing Victims

Last night, my workplace was robbed at gunpoint. Luckily, no one got hurt.

Nothing unusual happened, no red flags were flying. Business was slower than usual so after I did my closing duties, I clocked out.  After work, I went home, turned on Netflix and ate a BLT sandwich. After being home an hour or two, I logged onto Facebook only to see a post from my manager mentioning that a gun was held to his head that night.

Pretty scary, right?

When I woke up this morning, my mother kindly informed me that I wouldn't be returning to work for the rest of the week. She believes my safety is in jeopardy and is worried about the possibilities that could occur if I choose to return.

After tragedies strike, it's natural to get scared. It's natural to want to avoid places of pain. It's scary when somewhere that we go everyday becomes the scene of the crime and you could have easily been a victim. It's easy to play the games of "What if I would have there?" "What if something could have happened to me or someone I know?" 

After the Colorado movie theatre shooting, the Sandy Hook Elementary school shooting, and the Boston Marathon bombing, people began to freak out.

Should we stop sending children to school? College kids to work? Athletes to their dream race? Families to the movie theatres?

The real question is--should we let fear dictate the way we live our lives?

I believe that we should not intentionally put ourselves in compromising situations, but we cannot live life afraid. I'm not looking to debate gun control.

Mom, I just want you to know that I'm much more likely to have a car wreck on the way to work than for my store to be held at gunpoint. 

Every second we are on this earth, we are dying. We are talking on our cell phones and lying out in the sun and subjecting ourselves to the possibility of cancer. We walk out to get the mail and risk our lives in oncoming traffic. No matter how safe we are, there will always be circumstances that are out of our control that could prove detrimental.

Don't let one bad event ruin anything for you. Don't let a tragedy keep you out of your own home or your former comfort zone. Of course, though, you should never do anything to cause your personal healing process to regress, but only seek experiences that will cause you to move on from whatever trauma you experienced.

Nothing is worse than when a safe place is no longer safe to us, but does that mean we hide away from society and live in an underground shelter as in Blast From the Past ? I don't think so.

We are called to live much greater lives than that. We are called to live lives not where we flirt with disaster, but where we face our fears and anxieties head on. We all must believe that the world is a good place even though there are bad people.

Eleanor Roosevelt said, "You must do the thing you think you cannot."

So tomorrow, I'm going back to work despite any anxiety my mother or I might have. I look back at the first time I went back to school in high school after receiving a concussion from a teammate. I look at all the times in life that I put on my big girl panties and did not let an uncomfortable situation ruin life for me.

And if I can do these things, I might as well go sky-diving, er, well, at least keep my summer job.



*Photo credit: http://www.waaytv.com/news/local/florence-sonic-robbed-at-gunpoint/article_ff3218f6-e7d9-11e2-a309-0019bb30f31a.html

To Fill or Burst

Every time I log onto Facebook, I see another friend of mine getting engaged and think to myself "another one bites the dust." Maybe I'm bitter, but the idea of getting married under 25 makes me anxious...and not in a good way.

I'm not really good at relationships.

Actually, I usually don't allow my flings to turn into relationships so it is hard for me to even make that call. Maybe I'm young or just too fickle, but if I think a guy likes me too much, I run. Give me two months to have my fun and rendezvous and I'm through with you. I guess we all want what we can't have. We all want a prize, and the more we fight, the sweeter the prize becomes in our eyes.

Show me a girl crying over a guy who doesn't text her, and I'll show you two more guys texting her while she tells her friends "why are they so obsessed with me?"

Every girl is lying when she says that she wants a fairytale. Nobody wants a fairytale. Fairytales are boring and we lose interest. We want a Nicholas Sparks book--passion, spontaneity, and some huge reason for us to not be with the objection of our affection (military man optional).

We live for the drama--which is why we often hang on too long to a guy(or girl) who just isn't really worth it.

After the initial attraction, a hot body or a nice resume only goes so far. The people we really fall for in life aren't the best looking, the smartest, or even the nicest. The people who captivate us are the ones who never quite give us everything, that are always just out of our reach.

But how does anyone settle down? How does anyone have a happy, healthy relationship based on these ideologies?

Sure, we can start pursuing the "nice guys," the ones who are always dying to get to know us that we barely acknowledge. We could give these guys a chance, but where's the fun in that?

Nobody wants a superficial relationship. Nobody really wants someone who is obsessed, especially before he or she really gets to know us, right? We don't want what is easily handed to us, well, we don't want them after we get what we want from them.

Anything we chase in life runs away.

What if the object of your affection stops running? What happens then? Or our biggest fear, what if they don't? What if the  person is never completely attainable?

Relationships aren't exactly my forte, and I won't pretend that they are. I can't sit here and give you five steps to having a successful relationship because I've never had a successful relationship...or a serious one. I can't tell you how you should grow up and go for your dream guy or girl. I can't tell you to suck it up and stop playing games because I don't know how to do these things myself.

I can say though that I'm ready to play. I'm ready to have fun and make mistakes. I'm okay with talking to guys who may not be my endpoint because I'm not ready for the end. I'm not ready to stop learning and with each relationship (I'm using this term extremely loosely), I learn so much about myself, what I want, and most importantly, what I deserve.

As Carrie Bradshaw once said, "maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they just need to run free until they find someone just as wild to run with."

So for now, I'm running...not towards anything and not from anything. I'm just running the dash between the beginning of my mistakes and my endpoint whoever and whenever that may be. I'm playing and running and living my life because who wants to be serious?

Not All It's Cracked Up To Be

I like people to think that I don't have emotions, but that couldn't be further from the truth.

I'm a writer--I feel everything. I choose and embrace every moment or emotion that comes my way. I cherish every seemingly insignificant experience. The smallest thing can make my day or wreck my world.

Yesterday, my best friend told me I feel other people's pain too often. She told me I let my loved ones' burdens pile onto me, and crush me. She said, "you don't always want to be the person who is always hurting, always has a problem, even if it's not your own."

I have a savior complex.

In high school, I used to date people with hopes of "saving" them. My mom believed I was codependent. I always ended up dating guys who were deep into drugs and didn't share my values. These guys would tell me that I was the light in their lives, that I was the rock getting them through. The truth is, though, that none of these guys were ever fixed, not permanently anyways.

What actually happened was that I attached myself to broken people, people who offered me nothing, people who took everything I had. I walked away with only a broken heart and more baggage than I had before.

I no longer attach myself to addicts, but I still give everything to those around me. I'm the girl everyone confides in. When a boy breaks your heart, I'll show up with ice cream, wine, and a chick flick. I'll be the one to drag you to the party after you've been moping for a week.

Need to go out and forget? Or stay in and feel? Either way, I'll be there.

Empathy is a beautiful thing, feeling everything with someone wrecks you in a way that makes you feel human. Aching for someone else is one of the deepest ways to show love. Suffering with or for someone is one of life's greatest heartbreaks, and it isn't going to feel good. It's a sacrifice for a reason. Despite what your religious beliefs may be, no one can argue with John 15:13 that says, "there is no greater love than a man laying down his life for his friends."

Constantly feeling other people's pain comes with a price, though. It can be consuming. It can envelop you. It can take your joy away. It can leave you needing something, anything to escape the consistent pain.

I'm not saying I don't want to be there for my friends anymore or anything like that. I'm saying it is important for me to have more positivity in my life. I need to focus on the blessings I have been given. I need to focus on the love I have in my life, rather than the pain.

It's time to let go.

Now is the time to let go of all the things that eat at me, that break me, that take from me. Every single day, we are given a choice--we can choose to suffer or we can choose to be happy. Today and everyday, I want to choose the latter.

I want to chase the things that make me happy--not just extravagant dreams, but the little ones as well. I want to put all this energy into books I love, my work, and use it to only exude more love than pain.

I got some really terrible news yesterday, the kind of news that makes you think about the fragility and futility of life. Each day is a gift and only we can decide how we are going to spend it. The good news is that every morning when we wake up, we are given a new beginning, another chance, a fresh start.

I am choosing to experience joy and spread joy every single day.

Happiness

Growing up, I wanted to be an actress. As a got older, I wanted to be a lawyer. And now? Now, I just want to be happy.

I can't help but think of John Lennon's view on happiness:

“When I was 5 years old, my mother always told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down ‘happy’. They told me I didn’t understand the assignment, and I told them they didn’t understand life.”

Everyone is asking me what I'm doing with my summer, and I'm like, well, I went home. I'm sleeping, watching Army Wives on Netflix, and I'm spending time with those that I love.

Actually, that's still selling myself short, I'm continuing my internship with College Fashionista, I'm working 30ish hours a week, and I'm publishing an e-book.

Many of my friends stayed behind to take summer classes or went off to begin a cool internship, and I'm stuck living a life far too familiar. And the weird part? I'm okay with that.

Last month, I was walking along the beach with a friend and I told him that I wanted my life to be a  country song. He asked which one, and I said any of them.

I am ready to stop living this chaotic life--or at least slow down a little.

Earlier this semester, I interviewed a senior for a class assignment and when I asked her if she had any regrets, she said that she wished she had taken things more slowly, taken more time to enjoy college.

A year ago, I knew exactly what I wanted with my life. I was going to major in Public Relations, move to Washington D.C. and become a publicist for a politician-- and that was only Plan B. Now? I have close friends that are pre-med, pre-law, pre-pharm, etc.

And me? I'm pre-beach.

Two years from now when I embark into the "real world," I foresee that reality containing the ocean. Maybe, I'm just in a transitory period of my life, but right now, I think I would be content with just living at the beach and writing enough to keep food on the table and a roof over my head.

This morning, my father and I were eating breakfast on the front porch and talking about wanting to move to the beach. He said that he recently read somewhere that if we keep vacationing in the same places, if we keep seeking the same escapes, why not move there?

No other outlet expends the clarity I feel when I feel the tide brush onto my feet. As much as I love Birmingham, you can't see the stars there. In the city, I walk outside my door and hear helicopters and sirens. I don't hear children playing or couples laughing while holding hands as they walk the shoreline.

I don't want to live my life workday to workday waiting for the weekend, or my next vacation. I want to wake up everyday and be happy with where I am, what I'm doing, and how I'm living. I want to spend every morning running along the beach and end every single day with my toes in the water.

I don't think it's too much to ask to experience this serenity everyday. I don't think it's too much to want to be happy. I don't think it's settling to prioritize these things, but rather essential.

Because on your deathbed, you aren't going to wish you could have worked more, or done more. You are going to wish that you spent more time loving who you've let yourself become. It won't matter if I went to Columbia's law school or if I moved to Gulf Shores. How much is it really worth to have had an impressive life if you're not happy?

So, what am I doing with my life? I'm living in pursuit of happiness. For me, right now, that's enough.

I'm All In

We win some. We lose some. And sometimes--we get tails.

Life's a gamble.

Finals week seems to bring out the worst in everyone. Something about exorbinate amounts of stress, lack of sleep, and caffeine overdoses make everyone a little edgy. All we want is a nap, and maybe a drink.

This past week has been a whirlwind for me.  My cousin got married at the beach last weekend. I had a great time in Gulf Shores, but as soon as I got back reality catapulted into my face.

My to-do list is a mile long. My roommate won't stop singing opera or taking four hours to do her hair in front of my mirror. In the past four days, my hair has caught on fire, I choked on a Splenda packet that fell in my coffee, I ruined two batches of bacon, slept a total of ten hours, and I almost burned my hand off trying to get some taquitos out of the oven.

Needless to say, the struggle has been real.

However, there has been little glimmers of hope--the stranger in the library who told me to keep working hard on my essay, texts that have made me smile, free cake at work, and creepy snapchats from my friends.

Newton's law of motion states that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. If something goes wrong, something will go right shortly after that, or maybe that's just me being optimistic.

When we meet someone or when we attempt something for  the first time, we are essentially saying okay, this is who I am and what I can do--is it enough?

We are being tested and we are testing ourselves--we are taking a risk. Too often we hear this and take it for granted. We like to think that for some reason, we are the exception as opposed to the rule. That no matter what logic says, we will walk away unscathed. For some reason, this situation is different. For some reason, this guy is different.

You have to be prepared for whatever comes your way. You have to be prepared that once you jump from the ledge, someone may be there to catch you, or you may fall. Just because you fall, though, doesn't mean that you won't still land on your own feet.

You have to be prepared that sometimes, you'll stick your hand in the toaster oven and cry out. But you know what? Those taquitos were worth it.

Sometimes we worry too much about winning. We worry too much about caring the least and having the upper hand. Too bad high reward comes from high risks.

I have faith that I'm going to be okay. If I put everything on the table, I will either win big or go home empty-handed. I'd prefer the former, but when you have nothing--you have nothing to lose.

So, tonight, I'm playing all my cards. I'm putting myself out there knowing that there's a chance I could be rejected.

I'm not going to walk away asking if maybe I sucked up my pride, I would have won big. I'm not going to waste my life asking if I could have done better had I not been so afraid. With the exception of hard drugs, I have realized that you can live with yourself much easier knowing you made a mistake than knowing you didn't even try.

Blair Waldorf once said, "I'm all in and my bet's on us."

Blair's a prideful creature, much like myself. If she can set that aside to chase her dreams, then maybe I can too. If I can forget about my fear of rejection, I won't have to wonder if I missed out. If I pursue the opportunities given to me, maybe I'll become Editor in Chief of Cosmopolitan...or maybe I'll just be living in New York City eating ramen in a studio apartment (which would still be an improvement than eating ramen in Ratchet Rast).

Take a deep breathe, put on some lipstick, and go get 'em, tiger--it's all you can do.

Five First Times

This is the first post in my new segment called, "Five Things Friday" which will be a sort of mini-blog that showcases what I'm currently into, how I'm feeling, and what is going on in my life.

The past seven days for me have been all about trying new things, and here are a few of these things...


5 First Times of This Week:

1) Shot a pistol. I'm a girl's girl to a tee. My favorite color is glitter and I love my sorority. BUT I was also raised in a household where we discussed Chicago gangsters and scowl at anyone who believes in gun control. This past weekend, though, I went to a shooting range for the first time. It was quite exhilarating, and it really cleared my mind. I foresee this happening again soon.

2) Ate boiled peanuts. Like from a crockpot in a gas station in the middle of nowhere. I like to try everything once, but this was not one of my better life choices. I also ate orange marshmallow circus peanuts--those were also disgusting.

3) Used a weight machine. I'm a pretty simple exerciser. For cardio, I run or dance. For strength, I lift free weights. I finally decided to suck it up, and chance looking stupid while I tried four different leg machines. I may have gotten some awkward stares, but I left the gym a stronger woman.

4) (Almost) Broke into a car. Not like illegally, or anything. When I was at the beach last weekend, my friend locked her keys in her trunk. We tried to use not one, but two ghetto wire hangers that we acquired from passersby. Unfortunately, we failed miserably and some people who felt bad for us came and let us use their AAA. If I ever lock my keys in my nonexistent car, though, I'll know all the things not to do.

5) Ran three miles. I've realized that I'm never going to be a marathon runner, and I'm never going to have a record time in a 100 meter dash. Because of my scholarship's hour requirements, I was forced to take a PE class this semester. I finally have gotten my run up to three consecutive miles. (At the beginning of the semester, I didn't run AT ALL, so this is a vast improvement.)

Bridges, Burkas, and Betches

I like to make friends--that's why I'm a communications major. I also like to learn about other cultures--that's why I'm an international studies major. I like to help people--that's why I'm Vice President of a service organization.

Each of these roles that I play allow me to have a different perspective on every issue I face and every decision I make. I've learned that these attributes may make up my resume, but offer only a very slim view of who I am.

Knowing only what can be seen on a Facebook profile is not the same as knowing someone. You could research every statistic about me, but that won't tell you how I look when I'm laughing or what makes me smile.

Unfortunately, we all make judgments before we actually get to know someone, and we do it every single day. We'll find out what we believe to be key facts about someone (ones that may not even be true) but we decide that because of that we could never be his or her friend or we could never have anything in common with them.

Tonight in a lecture called "The New Religious Intolerance: Overcoming the Politics of Fear," University of Chicago professor, Martha Nussbaum discussed how France is passing laws outlawing burkas (the covering that traditional Muslim women wear). She disbanded every argument the supporters of the "burka ban" provided.

It's a safety concern having people's faces covered--what about surgeons? What about American football players? What about average citizens fighting the cold? All of these people walk around in society with their faces covered and we do not feel threatened.

Wearing a burka makes women only be shown as objects-- Aren't women objectified all over society? What about Playboy centerfolds?

Burkas are unsafe because it is too hot to wear that much clothing. How do stilettos affect the feet of today's women?

Our disconnect with those who are different usually does not stem from a sincere belief that he or she is wrong. It usually starts with a thought--an uncomfortable one. What if this person who is different talks to me? What could I possibly have to say?

When I decided to come to UAB, I did not realize I was basically entering the melting pot of the Southeast. When a Bengali girl in my English class befriended me, I never expected her to be my closest confidante or my . It turned out, however, that she liked fashion and astrology and John Green books just as much as I did. Her roommate was also a Bengali Muslim and she wore a hijab.

The truth is it is very intimidating to speak with someone who is different from you, someone from a background you've never encountered or do not understand.

We do not always know how to act around these people, but is that their fault? Should we persecute them or ignore them for being different just because we do not understand their culture? Should we not be educating ourselves about our neighbors next door and around the world? Or should we continue to separate ourselves from the physically disabled or those whose minds work a little differently?

As late as the 1970s, Chicago (and many other cities in the United States) had "ugly laws" prohibiting aesthetically unappealing people from appearing in public in fear that they might disturb the average passersby. People were unable to leave their homes because of a circumstance they had no control over.

Maybe this doesn't mean much coming from me because I'm Aryan, Protestant, and American-born. Most of the people I was raised around fit this same description. Then again, maybe this makes me the poster child for overcoming cultural and personal differences because I am part of the majority.

The majority decides the status quo, and only we can decide how and when the status quo should change. If we took a minute to realize that maybe those who cover up or do something we don't agree with or can't apprehend are not so different from us, maybe we could learn something. We can call it activism, but what could happen when we decide to step outside of our comfort zones.

What would our world look like if we stopped making excuses and started making connections?



*Definition found at Dictionary.com

Liar, Liar

I'm a liar.

Then again, so are you--we all are. We lie when people ask us how we are. We lie when we tell ourselves that we are happy with the daily grind. We lie when we say we aren't still hurt by a crude comment. We lie when we say we're okay that someone threw our heart away, or forgot about us.

We lie because society tells us we don't have a choice. Society tells us that we cannot show weakness. Society says, suck it up, it's not a big deal.

We bottle it up and bury ourselves. We confront our problems at the bottom of bottle, underneath a stranger or from behind our resumes. We hope that maybe, just maybe, we can fake it long enough to convince ourselves that this is what we want.

But if we are honest, we all begin to ask, is this as good as it gets? This is what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life? Chasing worldly success and every quick fix hoping that maybe we can feel again? Or worse, hoping to not feel anymore?

It's funny how all the things that are supposed to make us "feel good" begin to leave us feeling more empty than before.

The dreamer I used to be is desperately searching for an alternative, she is screaming, "What about the experiences you had in Costa Rica? What about those nights you said you were going to change the world? What about Isezerano?"

If this is all I have to look forward, then every sacrifice I have ever made was made in vain. If all we have to hope for is a life of convenience, then every martyr who was burned at the stake has died in vain. If all we have to live for is pursuing the next task and awaiting the next phase of our lives just to escape again, then why do we have troops in the Middle East dying for our freedom? Surely, it's not so we can overindulge and overwork ourselves.

There's gotta be something more...Isn't that what our hearts are begging for?

It is the whisper that shouts, but we all walk through life knowing deep down that there is something more waiting for us. I can't tell you what that looks like for your life. Honestly, I don't even know what it looks like in my own life. I can, however, say that it finding this usually starts with a simple realization--every single person on this planet feels the same way.

So what if maybe, just maybe, we could be eachother's purpose? What if we chose to love and lift those around us? What if we could look in our communities and reach out to the broken?

It's about so much more than feeding the homeless or adopting a three-legged puppy. It is about living a life in which you are in constant pursuit of connection with others. It's about letting go of your pride and letting someone in.

Maybe we can prove society wrong and we can all start being a little more honest. We can look ourselves and our friends in the eyes and say, "I don't want to live this way anymore."

Better Than You

I'm a really trusting person.

I can blame it on my astrological sign or my small town upbringing, but I live my life as if everyone is innocent until proven guilty. I am a very open person and I mistakeningly expect everyone else to be.

I'm not exactly a creature of mystery. I don't act coy. I have always said, this is who I am and what you see is what you get.

In the past couple months, though, I have realized that this isn't necessarily the way to go. You cannot simply offer yourself on a silver platter and hope someone chooses to oblige. No matter how hard you try, no matter how well you do, your offer may rejected, or worse--your trust betrayed.

Because of my fixation with self-improvement, I made somewhere around ten New Year's resolutions, but my biggest one was to not give people more than they deserve.

Trust is not something that is just handed out like flyers in the dining hall. When you start at a new job, the owner is not going to hand you the keys to the place on your first day. When you meet someone for the first time, he or she is not going to spill out their insecurities, fears, and former heartbreaks.

Of course, there are exceptions. Tomorrow, I could easily go to Chicago and be serenaded in the middle of a parade. (Except that I'm not planning to go to Chicago, and I don't think there are any parades happening, but Carpe Diem, right?) I could meet an attractive soldier that falls in love with me in less than two weeks. Considering Nicholas Sparks and John Hughes are not writing the script for my life, I do not foresee these events happening.

This semester, I've gained a lot of respect for myself because I have chosen not to pursue relationships with friends or guys who aren't actively trying to be in my life.

I'm not bitter. I have just accepted that 9 times out of 10, I am not the exception. We are fed love stories in romantic movies and we hear the tales of a friend of a friend's whose husband met her when she was his call-girl during his first marriage. We hear about our friend who has been "without labels" with the same guy for a year and he finally took her on a cruise vacation where he proposed.

In reality, though, I see a different friend crying on a weekly basis because she doesn't understand why a guy won't call her back. She doesn't understand what she did wrong because she has been trying so hard for days, or weeks, or months, and he still doesn't seem to be happy. I see girls stay friends with other girls who use them for their closets, or connections, but ignore their calls when they're hurting.

The truth is--people suck. People are going to break your heart. People are going to make you want to punch objects (or people).

Before we lock away our hearts and throw away the key, we have to acknowledge that there is some good in this world. Though I'm not the exception, I've realized that I'm still exceptional. I have wonderful people in my life who tell me so everyday.

When I began to let some of the sketchy people go, I was scared of the relationships I might lose. I was worried that I'd lose opportunities and friends that I had fought for. However, I gained so much more than a better sense of self-worth or self-respect. I have friends who give as much as they take. I have people in my life who spoil me and surprise me and make me a priority.

The background of my phone currently says, "There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind." These words by C.S. Lewis remind me every single day that I can't dwell on the past, I can't question the what-ifs, and I can't keep people in my life that continuously let me down.

I'm better than that, you're better than that, and the people we are waiting to become and the experiences we are awaiting are worth so much more than that.

*photo was found on Instagram and is derived from a Will Smith quote