flowers and rain

The lilies of the valley have finally peaked. Every year, I always feel like I miss them. Of course, they're beautiful and then gone in about 1.7 days, but I feel like I shouldn't be leaving their side for the entirety of those 1.7 days. You know?

They're like heaven on a stem. I wish you could smell these through the screen, really.

That's why this year I made sure to document their growth. In a little photo project I'll put up here soon. (Okay, so I guess "project" is too grand a word for what I really did, but it's still pretty amazing. You'll see.)

I took these pictures yesterday, when the skies were gray and it was sprinkling and I purposely went into work late on account of not being able to mentally get myself there. All I wanted was springtime and sunshine, hoping it would force my mood to shape up and ship out. Now today, it's all sunshine and fresh air (despite being chilly) and I wouldn't mind a little gloominess to just validate my feelings a little.

I think that's a pathological tendency I have. When it's sunny I feel obligated to be chipper and full of energy even when I'm not, but when it's rainy and gray I feel I have no other choice than to match my mood to the air, which I usually do.

It's like how I eat exorbitant amounts of food every time I watch The Biggest Loser. Pathological, I tell you.

I'm just going to go stare at some lilies of the valley and see if that helps.

thoughts on college, one year later: part 2

I just re-read Part 1. I apologize if you made it all the way through to the end of that rambling. Sometimes, though--words just scramble to get out of my head and onto "paper" before I can stop them. That post was somewhat therapeutic for me, I think. I hadn't really let myself face all those feelings since I graduated. And thankfully, some of you could commiserate and let me know I wasn't alone in those feelings.

What would I do without you guys?

Anyways, I did go back to school that night last week. The Women's Center was having their annual "Take Back the Night" rally, which I went to last year, and one of my favorite friends/professors was speaking, and I'd take any excuse to go back and see Steph again, so I sucked up some courage, threw up a word-vomit post for some peace of mind, and went back, all in a hurry, it seemed like.

And you know what? It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be.

It was of course very strange, and felt weird to be walking the streets and eating at the student union knowing I wasn't actually a student anymore, but I was okay.

I was okay.

Of course I was okay. It was just as if the campus materialized around me and surrounded me with its academic-ness and big buildings and swarms of students as I drove onto campus. But I was still the same person. I felt like I had a bubble around me, keeping all of me in and keeping any bad vibes or memories out. It was like a revelation.

Am I making any sense? This is hard to articulate.

I'm the same person, but I've grown more in the past five years than I'd realized.

I was able to go back onto that campus sure of myself and who I am without letting a silly university dictate that to me. I was okay.

Perhaps going to this school wasn't the best decision for me. I've come to terms with that, kind of. So now I suppose all I can do is be grateful I have my education and learn from my mistakes.

Which is why, now that I'm entering into the grad school realm, I don't want to make the same mistakes. I don't want to choose my school based on ease and money. I'm taking everything into consideration, and weighing my options carefully. I want to do it right this time. Perhaps that's what I've learned.

In just two weeks, it will have been 365 days since my college graduation. Since my blog header says, "Fearlessly navigating my way through these post-college 365 days," I suppose I'll have to change that. I think I have fearlessly navigated my way through this past year. I successfully moved back home after college (no mean feat), got a position in AmeriCorps, applied to grad schools at the right time, got accepted, and am now working out the next chapter of my life.

Now I just have to put that diploma that's sitting at the back of my bookshelf in a frame or something. Isn't that what it's for?

ponderings

I feel what I cannot write.

I yearn to express what I cannot say.

I began blogging to hold myself accountable for my life. To keep details in mind, to remember to take pictures, to properly process thoughts and emotions. I'm afraid I'm not very successful at doing so otherwise.

This blog functions as a tool to remind myself that being me is not a bad thing. That it's okay. That feeling my feelings and thinking my thoughts is just as legitimate as anyone else doing the same thing, whether in blog form or otherwise.

It was a good realization, for awhile. Until I became confused about what to share here. This isn't a diary. This isn't a floral-bound book tucked under my mattress for my deepest, darkest secrets to abound. This is a very public journal.

So for months now, questions have swirled through my head, like, Do I remain positive, and positive only? Do I fake happiness until I make happiness? Or do I share negativity and heartache, too? But is it unfair to my readers to whine and complain and share greivances? (After all, I DO have a tag category called "Greivances," and it's quite full, which I often kick myself for.) I always wonder these things. Is it better to blog about happy things, when you're not feeling happy, for the sake of trying to force yourself to feel happy? Or is it better to let it all hang out, and show no discrimination, and blog about ALL the truths of life, in order to be the most truthful?

I know this is a common predicament for bloggers. But I have to remind myself--I started this blog for me. And I plan on writing for me, too. It's just hard to remember, sometimes. And it's hard to articulate, a lot of times.

Which often results in blog absences for periods of time. Which makes me feel like I'm not being honest, with myself or with my readers. I don't want to only post when I'm happy. I want to post all the time. Because if I made this blog to hold myself accountable and help me process my thoughts and emotions, it doesn't really work to only use it at high points of life, does it? I want to look back on this and remember everything, everything I was going through at this point in my life. The very first time I was confused about this, I went two whole weeks without blogging. But back then, I promised myself I wouldn't do it again. I went those two weeks, which happened to be two very tumultuous weeks of my life, without properly processing what was going on.

I hated doing that again.

So I'm vowing to blog for me. To blog about what makes me happy. And to blog about what makes me nervous or sad or anxious or scared, too. Luckily, there are other bloggers out there who help me with these decisions.

I don't feel like I'm being very articulate here and I fear I'm beginning to not make any sense, so I'll stop here. Hopefully this is something you can relate to, too.

Should blogging be this difficult?

this severe lack of blog posting brought to you by:

1. PMS

2. Grad school anxiety

3. Grad school excitement

4. PMS

5. Unrequited like (not to be confused with love, just yet)

6. Work busy-ness

7. Preparing for huge life transitions

7. Did I mention PMS? Guh.

a dapple of my weekend

I guess I haven't posted since Wednesday. Oops. First it's spring break and everything's great, and the next thing I know it's Monday morning, Easter is over, and I haven't posted since Wednesday (yet I still have these allergies...). How did that happen?

I'd go into details about my week/weekend, but I'm just so not feeling the blogging today. Actually, I'm not feeling much of anything. I went to bed (embarrassingly) early last night, I had to convince myself to get dressed this morning, and I've done maybe twenty collective minutes of work all day. I'm not sure what's gotten into me, but hopefully I'll snap out of it soon. Do you ever feel this way?

foggy-headed

I'm so confused.

I woke up this morning, early, thinking it was Sunday. I distinctly remember thinking to myself, Oh darn. Yesterday I had all the fun, and now today is Sunday, the blah day of the weekend. Why am I trying to wake up so early? I must have set my alarm by mistake. So I proceeded to shut off my alarm and go back to sleep.

Until I was jolted out of my sleep by the realization that it wasn't, in fact, Sunday. But that it was Thursday. So I dragged myself out of bed and tried to figure out why I had thought it was Sunday.

Wrong again. It's definitely Wednesday.

All day long now, I've been thinking it's Thursday. I filled out the attendance spreadsheet wrong. I wrote the wrong date at least three times. At one point I even reverted back to Tuesday (even more wrong). I've had to consciously think about the date and day of the week about every seven minutes, now.


I guess my brain's just in a fog today. Does this ever happen to you?




(Image via weheartit)

spring fever

I've got it, all right.

And I'm not happy about it.

(Please excuse the following rant.)


My mom just texted me a picture of my little sister having a picnic in the grass, somewhere sunny with a blue sky in the background and surrounded by green grass. With it came the following text: "We're having a picnic. What are you doing?"

I could have screamed. While they're outside enjoying the sun and warmth, I'm stuck in a bomb-shelter-like office with no windows and these damn flourescent lights. (I think I blog about the flourescent lighting in my office at least once a week, angrily.) I stepped out of the office for 15 minutes to pick up paychecks and made sure to roll my windows alllll the way down, only to have it snatched back from me the moment I stepped back inside school. I'm slightly hungover from fesitivities yesterday and it's taking slightly longer than I thought it would have to recover. I haven't had a cup of coffee all day because I'm too lazy to get up and make it, and I only had $1 dollar left over from last night and hate to charge a $3 latte. Not to mention, I got home at an ungodly hour last night (for a Wednesday, at least) and am running on very few hours of sleep. I need my sleep. Negligent coworkers are annoying me and I have too much to do before I have to teach a class of 14 very angry 3rd graders in one hour. And I have to babysit overnight right after work so I can't even look forward to some downtime when I'm done.

I love spring, but this is not spring. Isn't spring supposed to make you happier? Is it Saturday yet?

pause

This weekend, I'm going to take a pause.


Tara Brach, in her book Radical Acceptance, emphasizes the importance of pausing in life. She says, "Through the sacred art of pausing, we develop the capacity to stop hiding, to stop running away from our experience . . . In the pause, we become available to whatever life brings us, including the unfaced, unfelt parts of our psyche."

For some reason, this is what I'm feeling pulled to right now. I tried a new yoga/meditation class last night, hoping to gradually sink into my pause. Little did I know, meditation is not for the weak of heart. For me, it was practically painful, as I lay there trapped with my own emotions and grief with absolutely nowhere to go but my mat. You're forced to face your feelings and emotions and, while not necessarily solve them, accept them.

You're stuck with yourself.

Apparently, that's difficult for me.

So this weekend, after much thought and option-weighing, I've decided to take a day to myself, and only myself. I have no idea if it will make me feel liberated or uneasy, but I'm going to try.

As the Vietnamese Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh has said, we need to pause to "keep our appointment with life."

So I think I have an appointment to get to.

PS

I'd highly recommend this book, Radical Acceptance: Embracing Your Life with the Heart of a Buddha, by Tara Brach. I'm not a Buddhist, but it's extremely insightful.

solo vacationer

Photo via AliciaBock, via TheDrifterandtheGypsy.

I think it's about time for a solo "vacation." Maybe one is needed every 22 1/2 years to recharge. Because that'd be just about the right time, then.

I've been contemplating this for awhile. I feel like I just need to get away, to "turn so far inwards I think I'm inside-out," as Melanie put it. I need time to think things through, without the distractions of daily life. Even just to get out my room, house, town--I need something.

My first, and perhaps most pressing, thought is that this is, essentially, a very selfish choice. It involves nothing but me. Guilt follows, somewhat naturally, I suppose. But I think we need to be selfish, every now and then. And if taking time out for myself could make me a better sister, daughter, friend, teacher, coworker . . . then it's not really all that selfish, is it?




Then comes the hard part of deciding what to do. Taking a long walk won't do. Travelling for a week won't, either. I've looked into yoga retreats, but let's face it: as an AmeriCorps volunteer, I'm perpetually broke.

Tell me: have you ever taken a solo trip? Have you ever taken time out of your usual, daily life for yourself?

returned

Finally, I'm back.

As free as I feel when I'm away from the internet and phones and connected-ness, I also get a little antsy when I desert my blog for so long. I feel sad for the little thing, like when I'm away from my cat for too long and think she must be getting sick of my sister feeding her for me and running after her to catch her by the tail and drag her out from underneath the bed.

Blog, Stella: I'M HOME. You can stop worrying.


However, I'm home, yes. And I need to:

pay bills
and catch up at work
and clean the bathroom
and plan a birthday party
and get my hair cut
and finish scholarship essays
and clean the litter box
and get in a better mood
and clean my room
and get back to the gym
and and and and . . .

And I have about a million posts lined up in my head, so I'll be back in full-blogging action very soon.

If I can make a dent on that list, first.

caramelized tofu and brussel sprouts

Last night I decided to wonder and found myself lost in my thoughts. Does that ever happen to you? Some days just turn into "off days" and I can't seem to collect myself.

In other words, I turn into a mess.

I channelled my introspection into the kitchen, though, and cooked up caramelized tofu with brussel sprouts, in solitude.

I can't say it cured me, but it was damn good.

no news day.

Stella and I are getting

bored.

We need pick-me-ups.

Or new hair cuts, at least.

need for a change.

I took this photo yesterday morning as I was warming up my car. Needless to say, it was frigid outside--but that didn't stop me from trying to capture a snowflake in my lens. If only I could take one like this . . .

I've been feeling lately like I need a change. Does that ever happen to you? I get bored or frustrated with something in my life and I feel the urge to do something drastic. However, I can only chop my hair so many times before a.) it gets too short to keep chopping (and I think I look terrible with short hair!), or b.) it becomes too commonplace and isn't a drastic change anymore.

Tell me--what do you do when you feel like you need a change?

I'd change my nail polish color, but that just won't cut it.

a funk. a rut. a terrible head fog.

These types of things don’t just go away. They really don’t. They must be worked on, and worked on, and worked on some more, and then really worked on (as in, you really have to try, you can’t just half-ass it), and then honed, and then probably worked on about 593014 times harder. And it absolutely sucks.

It’s easy to get out of. It’s so easy to not work on it, and to let it fester, and then let it take over. It’s so easy to be miserable, isn’t it? You don’t see people running to therapy and just gobbling up advice and bolting back to their daily lives and applying all they’ve been taught and then moving on with complete success and a smile on their face. It takes a lot of work (see above paragraph) and if you’re already pretty miserable, “a lot of work” might not even cut it.

The teensiest little break from real life, from reality, is welcomed now. My mind can zone out faster than I realize, maybe in some kind of self-preservation effort. Walking into the post office for six minutes is like entering another realm. Leaving it, and walking back through the rain and fog, back into my ever-familiar car, is like an unpleasant slap on the face with a dirty dish towel. Reading a book or a blog is as if my world dissolves around me as I crumble into pieces and land together in another person’s more-upbeat world. I have my crocheting, where I watch the hook dive in and out of the yarn loops, mesmerized at something creative and imaginative occurring outside my body. But usually, my head’s just in a fog, and walking into the post office or getting into crocheting does nothing more than stir up my brain cells a little, unresponsive.

Unfortunately, my brain responds better to misery. Is it a curse, or am I to work on it, and fix it? Maybe I don’t respond well to other people’s misery. Studying in South Africa was nothing but confusion for me. My brain could not physically piece together the data it was receiving, I think. Mansions, bordering slums? Extravagant shopping malls on the wharf, bombarded with the homeless? Internally, it was nothing but anxiety. My body was literally rejecting what I was sending it. And it still does. I have to remind myself to unclench my stomach while I’m at work, suffering through a lock-in drill (a drill, unaware to us). As Maggie of Flux Capacitor puts it: “I can feel the weight of mortality and suffering from around the globe pressing me down into the dirt like a horrible gravity.” Isn’t that the truth? The anxieties from South Africa and crime and poverty in the city give way to petty anxieties from endless triggers, like being late to an appointment or hurrying to bed with the fear of not getting eight hours of sleep every night.

So I drive in to work, acting the typical white suburban girl, making sure all my doors are locked at stoplights and practically running out to my car after work and fumbling with my keys as images of muggings and heads at gunpoint dance through my mind. Before long, stomachaches set in at the tiniest tinges of worry, and soothing tea and antacids are regular supplements. This isn’t right.

Anxiety is a hard thing to work on. Sure, tactics and methods to stop anxiety before it sets in are fabulous ideas, but only for those who can employ them. For those that have a nice stable environment in which to practice them. If you can’t work on yourself, and you can’t comprehend the skills, and you can’t get your head out of the fog, you can’t fix things. You probably can’t. Unless something huge gives way, and a little glimpse of sunlight peeps through, and it inches your heels forward just enough to push you to do something about it. Because these types of things don’t just go away.



postscript:
i almost didn't post this, but then clicked PublishPost before i could think otherwise. so if you've struggled through this, i apologize. comments are welcomed openly.

back again.

Oops. I haven't blogged in four days. My bad. Sometimes I need a blogging break. Four days did it just fine.


So, I thought I'd come back with some photos. Photos of a walk I took today through the woods. A long, much-needed walk. Whoever thought living at home after college would be a good idea? I think people suggest it, but don't really consider the repercussions. Sure, living for free with the people you've lived with for the past twenty-two years anyways while saving pennies and working sounds all nice and fine, but have you tried it? It's not so swell.

I'll be back soon with Thanksgiving updates, since I've been so absent. Promise.

do tell?

Okay so, in an effort not to ditch blogging altogether and not to shoot this NaBloPoMo to hell, I need your help.

Does blogging ever come harder than usual to you guys? Some days, I'm all about it and will post one, two, maybe three times in one day, while other days (or weeks, who are we kidding here . . .) I want nothing to do with this blogging business. Sometimes it feels like I have to put on a smile and "show up" just to keep the blog going and also keep myself from letting my writing fizzle out. Especially during times like the past week or so, when I just have so much going on personally that I can't really share with the internet, it's so difficult to make myself see something positive in life and post about it. (Or not so positive, like I'm doing write now, apparently.)

Am I alone?

That being said, I'm begging for your help. Can you guys tell me what kind of stuff you like to read here?


Do you like Felicitous Findings?

Do you prefer real-life stories that spare no details and lay it all out there, like my hair saga post or my Big New Job reveal?

Do you enjoy silly little nothings I find on the web randomly and then share with all of you?

Do you like videos?

Maybe you prefer philosophical wonderings that get even myself confused, like my I Love Lucy quandary or the Facebook conundrum?

Do you like the happy, feel-good posts?


I would also take advice on what you don't like to read here, be that the case. Anything you can tell me would be huge. Blogging ain't easy. It's too bad I like it so much, or I'd just quit.

Send help.

imagine, if you will . . .

6:00am: My alarm goes off. I hit snooze.

6:05am: My alarm goes off, again. I am dead to the world. I hit snooze again and again, because apparently I think 25 more minutes of answering my alarm amidst fitful sleep is better than just getting out of bed.

6:30am: That annoying alarm noise annoys me to death. I remind myself to find another ringtone. I push the cat off of me and heave myself out of bed.

6:40am: Just when I'm finally able to enjoy my cup of coffee and the morning news, MH wakes up and joins me. The girl is sick. She never wakes up so early. I try to get her to go back to bed, but no, she's awake. And jabbering away. My head swims.

7:15am: My shirt doesn't look right. My jeans are too ight. I remind myself to go on a diet starting tomorrow. My bangs won't lie flat and my hair is wild. I throw in a stetchy headband and vow not to look in a mirror for the rest of the day. I should have taken that shower.

7:40am: I'm trying to put on makeup in the bathroom when I hear my mother arguing with MH. She tells her to take the medicine. MH says the taste is so awful it will make her throw up.

7:41am: MH runs into the bathroom and straight to the toilet and proceeds to throw up. I am brushing my teeth. My mother comes into the bathroom shouting all sorts of things like, "Oh--you know, Mary!" and "Stop it! You're making yourself throw up that medicine!" I spit my toothpaste. And storm out.

8:00am: I make my lunch in a huff. Whoever made the chicken salad put way too much mayonnaise. The fruit drawer of the fridge is so broken I can barely get it open. And I'm still mad about the bathroom/puking/yelling incident.

8:05am: I realize I need to stand up for myself. I live here, too. I tell Mom and MH that I'd appreciate it if they'd at least let me exit the bathroom before screaming at each other, next time. They hardly notice I'm speaking.

8:10am: Even though I have to leave for work in five minutes, I can't even fill up my water bottle on account of last night's dinner dishes piled in the sink. I spend my last precious moments scrubbing pots.

8:20am: I finally get out the door. I'm so agitated I forget my cell phone.

8:23am: I turn around and go back for my only piece of sanity.

9:10am: I then arrive to work late.


Live at home for a year and save money? What did I get myself into?

I miss college . . . . .

(Photo via Deerlings and Ghostthings)

if you're not making it, can you fake it?

Okay, so I've had this post in my head for awhile now and I think it's had just about enough time to percolate and can now be released to the blogging world:

Can you really fake it till you make it?

Positive thinking, affirmations, plain old optimism--does it really work? If your life is in shambles and you find it difficult to see anything in a positive light, can you just trick yourself into thinking so? Can you just repeat some mantra every day for a month and poof! have everything right-side-up again?

I struggle with that on my blog. What do I put on here? I read all kinds of blogs--some that let it all hang out, and some that stick to the happy and positive only. Which is better? I can't say. But I just feel so fake if I only talk about the good parts. If I only put up pictures of myself that I've double-chin and bad-hair approved first. If I only highlight the fun activities of my weekend and not the arguments or mood slumps or moping around the house. But who wants to hear about my weekend mood slumps?

Is it better though, to hear and read about other people who are possibly going through the same things that you are? So that you can feel some belonging to the human race and know you're not alone?

Or is it better to surround yourself with positivity? To read blogs that make you happy and lift your spirits when you're feeling down? In other words, to purposely be fake for the purpose of making yourself happy? (Because let's be honest, we're not all happy, all the time. It's just not possible. Even the happiest and most content of people have their down days. Right?)

So now I'm turning to you, readers.* What do you prefer in a blog? Would you rather see the blogosphere through rose-tinted glasses, or are you a realist that just damn wants it told like it is?

*And for the sake of an "example," I'm going to embrace the realist side of my argument and say: I don't know how confidently I can address "readers"--do I have more than my whopping thirteen followers? Half of which are family members? Sometimes blogging can be so disheartening. There!

TGIF

Yesterday, my day went like this:

: I shut my alarm off in my sleep, somehow, and woke up 45 minutes late for work.

: I was then late for work.

: I tripped over my own feet walking up the cement steps into the school and fell flat on my face. I got a bloody knee and a shoulder that still hurts. Oh, and I ripped my never-before-worn pants.

: My boss didn't show up until 1pm, so for 5 hours I sat by myself listening to Pandora and working on that damn book list, and not much else.

: I got severe blisters from wearing heels that I should have known better than to wear, and had to traipse around all day trying not to limp too visibly.

: I left feeling relieved, until I saw the $50 parking ticket on my windshield. Who knew Thursday was street cleaning/garbage day? Not me, because THERE WAS NO SIGN.

: I spent the next 20 minutes driving in circles around the city trying to find the highway, adamant that I didn't need my GPS because really, how hard is it to find an on-ramp? Apparently very.

: By the time I got to where I was meeting Steph and Abby for dinner (the one redeeming quality of the day), my feet were in such pain I actually stopped and bought shoes. I wish I was kidding.

That was my Thursday. Today is Friday. Please God, let it be better than yesterday. Weekend of comfy shoes and sleeping in, here I come.

(Photo via ...stephanie...)

a pretty picture

I find thoughts of rotten weather intriguing when, in reality, the weather is nothing but gorgeous. And when there's rain, I think only of sun. Somehow, that doesn't seem right.

(Photo found here via Flux Capacitor)