If I were a hipster

The poor hipsters get a bad rap these days, but I just love their easy style. I've been smitten by oversized, dorky, tortoise-shell glasses for a hot minute and I finally bit the proverbial bullet and ordered my first pair online recently.

I can't wait to look back on pictures of myself in these things in a decade and wonder what the eff  I was thinking.

Thing is, I really do not know how to dress myself. I insist on buying everything at 80% off. As such, I'm at the mercy of the clearance rack. I'm constantly a season behind schedule and picking through everything the stylish girls left behind.

If I could shun my cheap ways and somehow find a bigger pocketbook, I'd totally cop these outfits:

1. Cutest scarf and top knot, right? 2. Again with the top knots + glasses! 3. HIPSTER, HIPSTER, HIPSTER! 4. I think the dog rocks the hipster glasses better than I do. 

Would you rock the hipster trend?

On jumping in

I made my way to a nearby Reservoir yesterday to partake in my first day on the water this summer. Glorious, I tell you, fantastically glorious. 

I spent the entire afternoon wading around the shore and watching other people swim. I debated for hours whether or not to submerge myself in the potentially cold water until I had a realization: I'm intentionally putting myself on the sidelines just because I'm afraid of being just a bit uncomfortable. 

I think it's easy to become this way - complacent. We all know what we want, but too often we are afraid to go for it for myriad of (often very logical!) reasons. 

We don't want to be cold, uncomfortable, scared, alone, wrong. Those feelings suck. They truly do. 

But, sweltering on the sidelines while other people make the jump sucks too, albeit in a different way. You end up missing out on the deep, exciting, beautiful complexities of life. 

I'm thankful I coached myself into the water yesterday. I swam for nearly an hour, wading out into water so deep I couldn't hold my breath long enough to touch the bottom. I floated lazily on my back, with my pool noodle, and sent up a little prayer of thanks that I had the courage to jump off the sidelines this time. 

And, I made a resolution to keep up my momentum of fearlessness. Every day.  

So many things

I have so many things I want to say, but I feel scared to share my true self. It's hard to admit publicly that I'm terrified to write in this blog and truly pursue my writing career (on my own terms) because the possibility of failure looms so large. I understand that it's still failure if I don't try, but it's not such an obvious sort of failure, I guess. The crazy thing is, I think about this blog every damn day. I brainstorm writing topics, I daydream, I fantasize. But, I just don't follow through. It's a theme that translates to virtually every corner of my life. I want to pay off my debt, but I remain stuck in the spending spirals I've been fighting since I first started earning money. I want to work out reguarly, but I start/fail/start/fail over and over again. I want to eat well and break free from the bonds of emotional eating that have plagued me since childhood. So many things, I want. But, for some reason I will not, cannot, have not, made them happen. I'm tempted to make the same proclamations that I always do: I WILL CHANGE. I WILL BE THE PERSON I WANT TO BE. I'm tempted to shout it from the rooftops. The problem is that I've heard those proclamations very loudly and clearly too many times to count. My ears hurt and my faith is thin. I'm not sure where to begin.

Dear Self: Stop freaking the eff out!

I remembered while blow drying my hair this morning at 7:55 that I had an 8:30 appointment somewhere across town and the address of where I needed to be was at work...in the complete opposite direction. 

Crap. 

I wish I could say I handled the situation with grace, but I did the complete opposite. My boyfriend's innocuous question was met with a "WHAT!??" while I rushed out the door pissed that I was going to be late and endure an early morning without coffee. 

Kill me. 

The day went better after that. How could it not? Work is awesome. I still feel like I'm swimming and grasping and all of those other words synonymous with completely overwhelmed, but I do love the challenge. 

I was just sitting on the couch reading blogs and came across one that inspired me to write again. I never want to stay away too long because I love blogging and blogs so damn much. My brain is fried from a lot of late nights at the office lately, but my inspiration helped me find beauty in the most mundane things around me tonight. 

Example 1:

My little DIY jewelry box. It's not much, but it's beautiful and functional and makes my life a lot easier every single day. It's hanging by the light switch in the bathroom and I often look at it and give myself props for spending that two dollars at Goodwill and taking a day to paint it. 

Example 2:

This poem, Ubuntu, by a local author. It's beautiful and (I think!) creatively and cheaply framed. I'm in love with the message and the top graphic. 

Example 3:

I hope to get a dog in the very near future and often tease myself by visiting a Boxer adoption rescue site and looking at brindle Boxers. I can't wait to play not-fetch with a dog of my own someday.

When I was frantically driving to work this morning, holding back tears of frustration, I wish I could've had a window into the future. Maybe I would've simmered down a bit and let things roll off me had I known I'd read inspirational literature, make a triumphant return to blogging and watch a video of the world's cutest boxer cruising around the backyard.

Since I've been gone

I started a fancy new job a couple of weeks ago. I'm able to focus on social media full-time now and work with super smart people at a great company.

Understandably, I've been a little overwhelmed as I adjust to this new change (and chance!) in my life.

I've been having a lot of pinch-me moments lately, and I wanted to take a second to step back and remember just how amazing it feels to look forward to going to work every day. It makes all the difference in the world.

All the difference.

a silly little poem

on rainy nights like this
gads of snails line the walkway to my door
I feel bad when I squish them

the big lie my generation told me

I attribute my late silence to growing pains. When I'm processing heavy stuff, my words seem to leave me. It's like I need all of my brain power to stew on my thoughts until I can come to some sort of conclusion.

Thankfully, I've finally reached it:

My generation lied to me.

Perhaps lie is too strong a word because it implies a willful act. It means that someone, somewhere premeditated an action and determined to kill the truth. Or at least hide it.

I'm going to remain positive and believe that my generation is just mistaken. Misinformed.

All I know for sure is that whoever equated living a meaningful life with doing work that lights a fire in your belly really missed the point. Woefully missed the point.

I've finally uncovered that the path to a meaningful life is a varied as a snowflake.

For some, that means putting in eight hours at a workplace so you can provide a safe home for your family. For others, that means the life of a nomad, living on the road. And, yes, for others that means making a living writing or freelancing or owning a small business.

I don't have all the answers, but I do know this:

For me, finding a meaningful life begins with finding contentment.

I started this blog in a very discontented place. I believed that my life had no value because I wasn't living off my passion. I had let others convince me that I was renting out my mind and settling for something I didn't want. I lost sleep worrying about how to make money off my passion. I cried on my lunch breaks. I put an incredible amount of pressure on myself, believing that I wasn't worth anything unless I wrote for a living. I read blogs and felt like I could never measure up.

I forced myself into believing that I would be happy if I could just ____.

That was my error.

That was the lie I believed. That something needed to happen before I could embrace happiness.

In reality, happiness was sitting there waiting for me to grab her. To claim her for my own whatever the circumstance. I realized that the universe gifted me with unique talents in the field I'm currently in. I understood that trying to convert my passion for writing into a paycheck diluted it into a chore. Instead of letting my words flow and writing about what suited my fancy, I hawked my words to publications that dictated word counts and deadlines and topics that didn't interest me. In the meantime, I let beautiful time go to waste at a job that matters to me, my work that impacts lives.

For weeks now, I've embraced my current moment.

I've woken up excited to go to work. I've fallen in love with a new form of exercise. I've relaxed in the evening watching Downton Abby. I've stopped grinding my teeth in my sleep. I've reveled in sleeping in on Sunday mornings instead of punishing myself logging miles to keep up with the running Jones'.

At the same time, I'm still striving, still looking forward, still excited about the future. The difference is: I'm also perfectly content just where I'm at.

And that's the truth.

Belie' dat homie.