303 Months

Yesterday, I realized that I have been alive for exactly 303 months. It wasn't anything monumental, but in my numerical mind, it was refreshing to notice just what turned me into the 25-year-and-3-month-old I am today.

I've spent 117 months in public school.
I've spent 36 months in college.
I've spent 2.5 months in Europe.
I've spent 4 months in relationships.
I've spent the past 24 months in the workforce - the last 6 of which have absolutely flown by.

It's pretty simple to whittle all of my major life events into a calendar list, but it also makes me excited for what I have left to achieve.

Most of all, I've realized that not knowing what I'm going to do in the next 303 months of my life is completely okay. I hope that within the next four months I'll be out of Logan or that within the next 36 months I have my car paid off, but other than that, I'm pretty clueless.

It just takes one day at a time to figure it all out.

Schedule

My typical day goes something like this:

• 6:45 – wake up.
• 7:45 – off to work, listening to NPR after finishing my 10-minute regimen with the Today Show.
• 8:00-5:00 – work. It's so boring that I don't have anything else to say about it. Besides this. And, I get an hour for lunch, during which time I've started coming home to watch Ellen. That might be the best hour of the day.
• 5:00 – come home, work out (as of late), fix dinner, eat dinner, watch Jeopardy, debate my “plans” for the rest of the night.
• 8:30-9:30 – realize that the only place I really want to be is in my big, warm, comfortable bed. Hop into my pajamas and get in that place. Watch a TV show or movie/read a book/write on the computer/blog stalk.
• 9:30-10:30 – succumb to fatigue and hit the hay.

It sounds so utterly unproductive, and really it is. I don't care for anyone but myself. I only just started looking for volunteer opportunities and other social outlets that will get me out of the house for more than just my 8-hour workday. Here's the truth, though: I've become a homebody. I'd rather be doing stuff that I love to do than getting froofy and poofy for someone else. I would rather not socialize with the people of Logan (in general; I do have a few friends whom I love dearly). I'm happy (enough) here, and I'm not worried about what I'm missing by staying in. That's all there is to it.

Also, I might have just admitted to watching way more TV than is healthy. Oh well.

ThankYouMorePlease

I haven't written in two months. Nothing has changed.

But, I decided today - after watching a fabulous film - that I need to alter some things. I need to emit some more positive energy towards the universe, in hopes that it will - hopefully - return that energy to me.

So, I'm forgetting about my broken car and my silly job and all the stresses and obsessions that plague me daily.

Instead, I'm choosing this face.

I'm choosing good music, played loudly over my car stereo.

I'm choosing a comfortable bed, chocolate truffles, and sleeping in.

I'm choosing to love myself. To get loved.

Thankyou. Moreplease.

River

I get obsessed with songs, and it's almost a guarantee that you'll find a select number of songs with hundreds of plays on my itunes playcount. This is one of those songs. I love Joni Mitchell. I love that she dated James Taylor. I love that he covered their breakup song. I just love it all.

I often wish that I had a river that I could skate away on.

Blog, What?

It turns out that I haven't written on this thing in over a month.

It also turns out that this is my hundredth post on this here blog.

Talk about high expectations.

Life is so normal right now, and besides the fact that I'm choosing to go to bed at 10:30 rather than attend a Halloween party, I'm pretty much that same old crazy person.

Today, I asked to play with the child again. It's been over two months since I last saw him, and boy have I missed that kid. We filled our afternoon with leaf piles, Chick-fil-a, and some early Christmas shopping. It was a blast.

And other than that, I don't really have much to report. I might decide to post some of my fiction on here pretty soon, provided that I revise it some and make it acceptable for young readers. (ha. yeah right.) I'll also try to do something more exciting so that I can actually make a solid - or solidly informed - post. In the meantime, check out some bad lipreading. It'll make you smile.

Mitt 2012. Stuff the Ice Chest.

(Oh yeah, I'm still planning to vote for Mr. Obama.)

The Art of Gift Giving

There is nothing more satisfying than finding that perfect something for another person. I love giving gifts, and I'll gladly celebrate birthdays, wedding days, and even a random Tuesday in order to present someone with the perfect present. Maybe I want to be the Martha Stewart of gifts, choosing and wrapping each one ever so carefully, hoping that the recipient knows just how much love is behind each crease of the brown paper packaging (tied up with string).

I have had gifts backfire on me. There was that one time in high school when I made my best friend a scrapbook of our adventures together, and her lackluster enthusiasm broke my heart. There was also that time earlier this summer when a birthday present for a certain someone resulted in him avoiding me for weeks. Whatever the outcome, though, I still try to find something meaningful for the people who mean the most to me.

So, with limited funds and a stunted imagination, I went out today to find a birthday present for my friend Tyler. It was a challenge that I feared, mostly because my previous gifts for him have just seemed to appear in front of me. Then, it happened again: the perfect gift presented itself to me, and I had no choice but to hurry and buy the awesome handcrafted magnifying glass to show Tyler how much he means to me on his 22nd birthday.

I know it sounds tacky, and maybe I'm making more of this than there really is, but I just can't help the fact that I love surprising people with something that says, "I'm glad to know you." So, if you've gotten a gift from me (even if it was way lame), know that it's because I care about you. And, if you haven't ever gotten a gift from me, sorry. I'll try better next time.

New York State of Mind

My affinity for the Big Apple began in 2000, when I had a layover in the Newark airport. I remember looking out the windows facing the Hudson and seeing the Statue of Liberty and these two massive buildings taking up the skyline. I even took a picture, but my 30mm makes the twin towers look like toothpicks, rather than the behemoths that they were. I never got any closer to them than that, but I felt a connection with the City, and I knew I'd be back to visit before long.

Well, that trip didn't come until 2008, but in those eight years between, something changed inside of me. My love for New York grew exponentially after September 11, and I quickly became the high schooler with an absurd amount of NYC paraphernalia. I spent countless hours looking at pictures, reading stories, and learning all I could about the city, and I feel like I know it better than I know my hometown. In the (very) short amount of time that I've spent in Manhattan, I feel like I've come to a place that makes me whole. That city is my city.

No amount of words can do justice to New York City. It is dirty and crowded, beautiful and energizing. The people are unlike any other, and I found a renewed hope in mankind as I wandered the streets, talked to the NYPD, and sipped chai from Balthazar's. I could spin my short time there into a novel, but suffice it to say, I love New York.

So, as I've shed tears today for that tragic day ten years ago, I am forever grateful for my New York State of Mind. I reverence those whose lives ended that day, but I know that the City - in all of its imperfect history - has made me who I am today.