1.6.16

I’m unmotivated and ambitious as hell, all at once, and I’m still trying to figure out how that can be. 

You hear those cliches about moments being the time of your life. How you’ve had your golden years, and everything from here on out is life and it sucks and blah blah blah. I didn’t believe it. I still don’t. But I’m beginning to kind of understand what these people were referring to. 

I find myself each and everyday waking up with the thirst to do something more, but the lack of motivation, or maybe it’s a lack of knowledge on where to start. I know that big things are expected from me. It started at a young age, people creating these expectations for me. I too expect greatness from myself. But the problem lies within the idea of what I should do and how I should do it. 

Too often I hear from my peers about their lack of happiness or satisfaction with their lives. I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to join the club. I have too much to offer.  I enjoy my unconventional life, here on the island of misfit toys. 

I know I’ve ranted about this in a previous post, and IRL, but social media is a blessing and a curse. It’s a great platform to stay connected with friends thousands of miles away, or checking in on your favorite celeb, but sometimes it’s the worst at crushing your self-esteem. 

I’ve never been one to compare myself to others, but damn, does social media posts from friends sometime make you feel like you’re doing absolutely nothing with your life? I get it, social media makes everyone’s life look a little more glamorous. Filters and apps help with that. I’m guilty, we all are. 

I just don’t get how I got here. I was always so involved. Charismatic. Acting, singing, volunteering, dancing, academics, social life, philanthropic, leader, community involvement, campus involvement, etc. I made the grades, I had the connections, the ambition, the unique qualities. I thought I was destined for something other than a conglomeration of freelance work, and an abundance of hours watching Netflix under my belt. I’m not complaining. That’d be too millennial of me. Barf. I’m just a little disappointed in myself sometimes. I should have tried harder, not been so picky, taken more chances. The same could be said about my dating life. But in all seriousness, what happened? Am I the only one who feels this way? Let me answer that for you, I know I’m not. 

We’re all at different stages in our lives. And that’s okay. I embraced it a loooong time ago, but sometimes I just feel so shitty about how my life is shaping up. Don’t get me wrong, I have a great family who loves me, I have cool friends who are supportive and chill. I have jobs here and there and get to work with cool people, and in a rad city. I really cannot complain. But sometimes I explore what I think would be my dream job, and I feel so complacent. Should I give all this up? Should I try to make it big? Should I try to work at some big record label? Move to NYC or LA? I think about it sometimes. Don’t we all?

There comes a point when you have to look at what you have and what you want and settle the difference. Picture yourself in that dream job or that foreign city or with that beautiful stranger. Is it really you? Do you really want it? Or are you just giving into the pressure of society and the expectations placed on you from your peers? Is it just the idea that you enjoy, not the reality?

Honestly, I saw this quote a few months back “you were not born to pay bills and die,” and it really stuck with me. We’re here, on this planet, to live and love and that’s it. Live int he moments with the people you care about, love yourself, and all of the rest will fall into place… when that is, I don’t know, but I’ll let you know when I find out. 

Tater tots & unsettling thoughts.

It happened again. That unsettling feeling. There I was, minding my own business. Eating some tater tots. Listening to people groan about monotonous details. And it hit me. It does this. 

I was daydreaming of leaving. Or getting up from the table, leaving them behind and finding a new adventure. In this city. Somewhere new. Moving. Packing up. Saying "see ya later Cincy, I'm going on vacation." 

Then in that same moment, my mind switched. What am I doing here? Why do I hang out in these settings? Are we actually having fun? Am I living? I've been out of college for over a year now and have no "big girl job". Should I leave? Should I just live with my parents forever? That's what people used to do... Live with their families, not separating. Do I actually need to live on my own right now? I think people do that to mature and figure out who they are. What do you do when you're 23 and know who you are? But don't know what the next move is? 

I get so frustrated with myself. I know my mother does too. I get to overwhelmed and underwhelmed all at the same time. I know that I have the potential to do whatever the hell I want. I've had some experience, I've dabbled, but what's my next career move? What am I going to do? I don't care about making a ton of money. Ideally, I don't want some 9-5 desk job either. I'm too creative. Too restless. Too much of an idealist. Yes, that's what I am. An idealist. I have these thoughts and dreams and aspirations. But I have little motivation. I have little to work for or towards. I sound like such a millennial. Dang it. Who am I kidding? We're all trying to "live". But what is living? Is it just the simple act of breathing? Or is there some checklist that we're suppose to be completing? I admit that sometimes I hear about others' lives my age and think about what I'm doing. Or what I'm not doing. But I also know that I am my own person, and will not compare myself to others. 

This world is strange. So many contradictions and prearrangements. So many unspoken rules and ideals. 

I don't know what to do. I'm back at square one. Just like I was before college, trying to pick my major. (My dear friend Matt & I were just talking about this.) Well, now I have two degrees and not a lot to show for it. I don't discount my education. I don't discount my experiences. I've interned places and networked. But here I am. Working part-time. Freelancing here and there. And that's okay, I think? 

Am I a writer? A photographer? A publicist? A stylist? A social media strategist? A promoter? A saleswoman? A singer? 

I need guidance again. Or a sign. Or some sort of proper motivation. I need to get my mojo back. Everyone knows it. 

Maybe I need a change of scenery. But each time I leave Cincinnati, I come back loving her even more. It's a shame, really, how much I love her. 

Just as I wrote that, I pictured myself being a novelist. I pictured myself as Fitzgerald. Maybe that's what I should do. Write. 

For now, I sleep. 

Defining A Happy Place

Amidst the various aromas of chain food, the brightly colored menus and the families with loads of loot from a day well spent at the mall, my mother and I discuss happiness. 

It is no secret that my mother has changed. A piece of her died when her parents passed. Her closeness to her mother was something to admire. They talked everyday on the phone. Every morning in a three way conversation with my aunt. 

6:30am on the dot. That was their ritual. For years. 

That was my mother's happy place. Those long distance phone calls. Her morning conference call was the equivalent to most folks' morning caffeine. 

I must say that my grandmother was and will always be remembered as a remarkable woman. Someone who loved everyone. Blind. Literally and figuratively. She passed no judgement and was the most selfless person I've ever known. Her name was Shirley. Also commonly referred to as Shirl Girl.  

My mother was close to Shirley. And since a cold November day in 2010, my mother hasn't been the same. 

And as life would have it, tragedy struck again when my mother's father passed an exact 2 years and 2 weeks after her mother. 

Since November 2012, my mother has had to cope with the loss of her best friend, her parents, and her happy place. 

No longer does my mom feel the need to visit her childhood home. What's left is not the same, and most of the family has up and moved away. 

My mother has lost that twinkle in her eye. That spark that made her so loving and joyful. 

She knows it. 

I know it. 

I assume that others have caught on. 

...And thus I cannot relate. 

But I can empathize. 

For I have my parents. I haven't (fortunately) lost anyone that mattered that much to me as her parents did her. 

I want to help her. I want to shake her and sprinkle the joy back into her bones. I want to trade places and let her see what it's like to be a young adult again. For I know that I am lucky to have my entire future in front of me.

But that's where we were. 

Two lost souls in the middle of a food court. Pondering life over our picked-at rice meals.

What is happiness?

I proclaimed that it was really just a facade that people hide behind and pretend to be happy. For are people really "happy?" What does that even mean. 

My mother decided it meant to be okay and content with your life and your passions. 

But I don't think that's right. I don't think happiness should be complacent or something you settle for. 

For as long as I can remember when people (or countless scholarship essays )would ask me to define what I wanted to be when I got older, I would always want to be happy. I used to define the pleasures of happiness were equivalent to those of succeeding. And each person defines it a different way. 

I do not believe I have a "happy place." I think my memories and dreams are what make me happy.

Moments in time that I can find stashed away in my mind. Times where I'd smile to myself, where I'd cry tears of joy. Moments when I'd be singing at the top of my lungs, when I achieved something off my bucket list. Those are the times that create happiness for me. 

But I cannot tell you if I am happy in the now. 

I feel like I'm still floating, wading, rather in a pool. It feels shallow at times, but as soon as I stick my hand in the water, my heart races knowing that I could sink or swim. 

And that's life. 

I think. 

I am no pro. Yet. 

There are people and things and moments and places that help to remind you of happiness. But I don't know if you can define being happy as a current emotion. Let's take graduating... I wasn't "happy" in the moment. Everything was happening so fast. I was trying to digest what was going on around me. It was surreal. And now, I can look back on the photos and judging by my candid, cackling-smile photos, I know that I was achieving something. And that makes me happy, I think?

I had no mood ring to confirm if I was happy. 

Life doesn't come complete with a mood ring. Or directions for that matter. Life: accessories not included. 

Are people really happy? Or are they pretending? Do we try way too hard pretending to be something that we're not in order to present ourselves in a fashion in which we think will make society happy? Is that happiness? 

These are the the thoughts that I have. Late at night. Having an existential crisis from the comfort of my twin size bed. Or the table at the mall food court eating steak and rice with my mother. 

I think happiness is an option, not a priority. Or a necessity. Living is. And I'll just continue to move forward. 

Post Grad: The Veil Of Uncertainty

Up until now I've taken everything for granted. Time mostly. But kind of just life in general. 

I think the feeling of a chapter ending has really struck me. 

It only took about two months, endless hours of Netflix, and a few dozen over-thinking nights to get here. 

It's as though I've been given a new pair of sunglasses in which the tint has changed everything from rose to a more golden hue (maybe it's grey) but the point is that everything seems to be changing hues in front of my eyes. 

I know that I've found myself in slumps before. Moments of sheer terror where I have no incline or idea of what my future holds. I've experienced those times where I've rethought the relationships around me. I've thought about boarding a plane, backpacking through the mountains, and embarking on a real Into The Wild experience. 

But this time, this time I think something is different. 

No longer do I have the safety of college. Classes with textbooks to read (or not read).  Lectures to take notes from. Friends to conveniently grab coffee with or catch up over a slice of pizza in the Student Union. 

No, this isn't my life anymore. 

I have no circle of sisters to meet with every Sunday. No homework that's due in a month, that I will start the night before. Okay, maybe the week before. No longer will I instagram the wondrous colors of Griffin Hall. No more student ID. No more campus events. 

Reality, at this point, is that I am forced to grow up now. And while yes, I know that I am an old soul, and I am meant to experience all that life has to offer -- I also am uncertain of the future. 

So uncertain in fact that I think I'm hiding from it. 

Thus far, in my life, I've had things planned out. School was a necessity from kindergarten to high school graduation. From there, college was a choice. Seeing as I am a first generation college student/grad/you know what I mean, college was the plan. Four years seemed like an adequate amount of time to find a degree, learn what I'm passionate about and set forth on my life before me. 

Boy, am I naive. 

Countless people had warned me about life post-grad, but I am a firm believer in taking advice into consideration, following my heart and going with the flow. I'm a type B kinda gal in that sense. Let the chips fall where they may, and work for what you love. 

Let's reflect on my two months of "real life." 

After graduation, I let on like everything was normal. Attending concerts per usual, working my same job, hanging out with new and old friends… all felt comfortable. Typical. I was on summer vacation. Let's add the element of my one of my best friends leaving for his dream job for the summer only a mere weeks after my graduating, leaving me in Northern Kentucky without my adventure buddy. I felt stuck.

Then I became ill with a disgustingly painful cyst on my tailbone. I won't go into detail. But it hurt A LOT, forcing me to get some surgery and be cooped up in bed for days upon weeks, turning into almost a month of lack of socialization with the outside world. 

During this time, when I wasn't almost paralyzed with pain, I found an escape through literature and film. I'd put myself in the shoes of the characters I was reading or watching. (Let's just say I understand The Graduate a little more, minus the whole affair idea.)  I delved into Netflix television series and began to become one with the characters on the screen. These were my friends during my time of pain, they didn't judge me for not being able to shower or care that I was a recent graduate of college just going with the flow.

As I began to take baby steps back into the light of day, I ran into friendly faces. People who wanted to know my plans for the future. How's post grad life? Where are you working? Are you going to grad school?  

Cue the tears.

Okay, maybe a little more of a spinning head. Some self-doubt and anxious moods.

All of a sudden, everyone wanted to know what I'd be doing with the rest of my life. And all along, I thought at this point I'd have an answer. 

But I don't. 

At this point, I've considered creating a shirt that says "I graduated college and I'm just trying to enjoy the free time, I'll let you know when I've figured out the rest." But perhaps that would be too abrasive, and we all know that I'm not one for confrontation. 

I hadn't been around people in weeks, I was happy to stand again, I hadn't really thought about where I'd be applying next. 

And perhaps that's where the problem lies. I hadn't put enough thought into my future endeavors. For up until this point, things were calculated for me or I had a plan and went with the flow to make it all happen. 

This should be no different. 

But it is. 

And that terrifies me. 

What if I don't find a "big girl job?" OR what if I find a job and I don't like it? OR what if I'm bad at it? 

What if everything that I thought I was passionate about/thought I was good at has been a complete misunderstanding. What if I'm a failure. 

This is where I find myself a lot these days. Thinking. Asking myself about life. And in all honesty, I just want to enjoy some free time. I would love a job, I'd love to be practicing my degree, but I also know that I have time for all that.

And thus, here I am. Typing away on my MacBook in the dark of my bedroom at midnight. Snapchatting my best friend while he stares out the window of his New York City digs. 

Envious doesn't even begin to explain it. 

I want adventure. I want love. I want to experience life. I want happiness. 

Perhaps I'm selfish. Perhaps I should have experienced more while in college. Perhaps I should suck it up, stop being picky, and just get a job.

I've had some time to explore my interests. Making plenty of lists. I can safely say that the job hunting process is tiring. It can be cruel. But it can also be a great way to do some soul searching. I'll keep trying to figure out what's happening and where I'll go from here…. but for now, the tshirt is still an option. 

And now that I have successfully survived the most painful thing I've had to date (that dang cyst was paralyzing), I think that I'll be able to survive the summer and embark on a new journey of self discovery and post-grad life choices. 

Come August, when everyone is going back to school, I hope that this veil of foggy tomorrows and rainy what ifs will go away. I'll be able to focus again and get back to living. 

Until then, I digress.