I have officially survived nearly six weeks in Dixieland, with four and a half more weeks til I move to Chicago.
Right after my last blog, I had a week of family time. Our Christthanksgivingmas 2011 weeklong celebration went well. As my family has aged, either we've gotten saner or we behave better because it's so infrequent for us all to be together. Whatever the reason, it was a good week. My brother and his girlfriend, Hollie, flew over from Corvallis, OR and my sister came here from Carbondale, CO. Once I move to Chicago, my family will have successfully taken over all four time zones! Next goal: let's start taking over the continents. Dibs on Antarctica.
Anyways, after the week of Christthanksgivingmas, I decided I needed to take a little break from SC. I've started carving out a small niche here for myself, but it still isn't home, and I wanted to go spend time with a couple of friends who also inhabit these strange Southern lands. Also, all this time down here without having friends nearby has been so odd. I needed a living, breathing reminder that my friends still exist in this world!
So, a week after my siblings left Summerville, I hopped in the car for my last solo roadtrip before moving to Chicago. [Sidenote: in the last month and a half, I've roadtripped through 9 states and driven about 2,423 miles! Oh, how I'll miss my car in Chicago.] I drove South on I-95 til Jacksonville, FL, then cut across the panhandle on I-10 to Pensacola, FL. If you're from the North and want to know what driving across the FL panhandle is like, picture driving across Ohio, only it's a good bit warmer and sunnier. I-10 is dreadfully flat and boring, and I decided very quickly that I'd be finding a different route home.
I reached Pensacola that evening a little after sunset and found my friend Kristen's home. I met Kristen at Mission Meadows five and a half years ago (yikes! I am getting up there in years...). She was a senior at Grove City College at the time, and I was going into my sophomore year at Allegheny. I consider her my first real "grown-up" friend. After graduating from Grove City, she got a grown-up job and an apartment of her own. Meanwhile, I was still a punk college kid who hadn't had a taste of real life yet. We'd meet up a few times a year and catch up over dinner in Meadville or Grove City.
Kristen moved down to FL in the fall of 2010 and married Ben, who she'd met in Beaver Falls, PA a few years earlier. Ben's training to be a pilot in the Navy, and they live near the naval base in Pensacola. The last time I'd seen Kristen was in the summer of '10 right before she moved. Since then, I'd wanted to come visit her in her new home and life, and my two month vacation from life in the South gave me the perfect chance to finally see her.
Friday night, Kristen and I went to dinner at the Fish House, one of her favorite restaurants in Pensacola. I had some world famous Grits a Ya-Ya (not 100% sure that's the name) that have been featured on all sorts of cooking shows. They were aMAZing. The next day, she showed me around where she lives and we watched some college football with her husband.
Ok. One thing I've learned about Southerners is they LIVE AND DIE for their college football. They're straight up crazy about it. They fly their team's flags on their houses and cars. They disappear from the world on Saturday afternoons to stare wide-eyed at their TV screens and yell all sorts of awful things at the television. And don't even try to talk about anything other than football on Saturdays! They won't have it.
I left their house during the LSU game, hoping the traffic would be lighter because of the game and widespread addiction to football. Success! I got to Foley, AL after an easy 40 minute drive.
In Foley, I stayed at the Peters' house. Their (biological) son, Jesse, and (unbiological) son, Jeff, are also friends of mine from camp. They'd both said I should come visit Foley sometime, and I couldn't imagine a better time to go see them than now.
The Peters' house is not your typical place. Jesse and Jeff have both called it a community house, while Robin and John (Jesse's parents) insist it's just a family home. I guess it's somewhere in between.
My first impression of their house was pretty wild. I pulled up to the curb and the first thing I saw was this perfect little fenced-in garden at the side of house. Walking in, I met the Peters family and noticed the "family" Thanksgiving dinner I'd been told about was set up to seat maybe 30 people, give or take a few. That night alone, I met a couple dozen people and watched a little community/family celebrate their second Thanksgiving this year. By the next day, I felt completely at home there (which is saying something, since the South and I have had a rocky relationship so far).
Over the next week, I got to be a part of life in the Peters household and go all around Southern Alabama. I'd never been to Bama before, and it was so good to be somewhere new. Southern AL has a certain charm to it, in a different way than Charleston does. It's not as redneck as snobby Northerners would expect, and it's not as commercialized as the FL gulf coast (thank goodness). It's beautiful in its relaxed, coastal, small town, big-hearted, raw, uncomplicated, comfortable, hospitable way. Not to say it doesn't have its fair share of struggles like anywhere else - there's plenty of poverty and other issues beneath the surface - but there were a lot of unexpected good things there as well.
The greatest thing about the trip was the people I met and spent time with. The Peters family is pretty wonderful, and their house is a meeting place for so many different folks from their community (or people connected to someone there). The house varies from boisterous chaos to unexpected tranquility, and there can be great advantages to both those circumstances and everything else in between. Personally, I've had enough time to myself over the first month of my stay down South to last me a while, so I loved the ever-shifting, lively crew of people passing through the doors of the Peters' home.
And now I'm back in Summerville. I'm writing this in an overstuffed easy chair with my dog curled up next to me and enough peace and quiet I could easily share it with a few people. It'd be nice if it worked that way - send tranquility to the half-crazed people running themselves ragged in their hopped-up lives, and send some crazy to those who have accidentally overdosed on silence and solitude.
As much as I crave balance in my life, that's just not how it is at the moment. Two months of too much peace and quiet down here (split in half by one much-welcomed week of crazy in AL!), and then I head to Chicago. Life is going to be all sorts of madness there for a while as I settle into my brand-new city and school. Til then, I guess I'll just continue to store up some energy and get ready for the whirlwind on the horizon.
11.18.2011
my vacation from life: learning about (unlabelled) rachel
It's been two and a half weeks since I've arrived in South Carolina. Eighteen days. Slightly over four hundred and thirty-two hours. Not that I'm counting or anything.
Seriously though, it's slipping by faster than I'd expected. It's also been better than I'd hoped.
For all that I had thought about (and blogged about) my anticipation of what Seminary will be like come January, I neglected thinking much about this odd little two month window of time between New York and Chicago. I could hardly form any expectations for this time because frankly, there was barely anything to structure my expectations around.
During this month and the next, I can literally do whatever I choose to do with my time. [There are limitations, of course, largely centered around a lack of income and my decision to not find a job and earn some money while I'm down here.] I was, and am, curious to see who I am and how I act - or react - to just being Rachel for two months. There are no comfortable labels for me to hide behind, like "student," "Americorps paralegal," or "youth minister." It's just me, no official occupation or clearly articulated purpose.
This idea might be making you uncomfortable. Pause for a moment. Imagine you had two entire months without a structured schedule, occupation, obligation, or pressure to do anything or be anywhere. Can you fathom how much this could potentially mess with your sense of identity? I think we often try to draw our sense of worth or value from what we do, what we accomplish, and how others view us. Could you deal with who you are, minus your position or role in society? By the end of these two months, I guess we'll find out if I can.
Now, this two month period of blank time in my life is not as traumatic as the scenario I just painted for you, based on the fact that 1). I know that this break from life is temporary and I know exactly when it ends, and 2). I have already settled on my next occupation as a student at North Park's seminary and business school.
However, there are still a little over two months were I have a massive amount of free time to do what I want. I have a theory that this two months of just being Rachel, without any label, may be a much clearer indicator of who I am than the comfortably labelled Rachel. Down here, my schedule is not filled up with work, youth group, and time with my friends (the last factor being based on the fact I have no friends down here lol). My time is almost entirely under my control, and I think that how I choose to spend that time may reflect more about my real identity than when my life is dominated by commitments I don't always have much control over.
Here are a few things I've learned (or affirmed) about myself in the last two and a half weeks:
*I love being outside. This is a part of me that suffered immensely while I lived in New York based on the, um, temperamental weather patterns of western New York.
That's just a nice way of saying the weather often blows there. Winter from November through April is not ok on any level. Did I mention I'll be in Chicago for most of the next four years? Awesome..
Here, it's been sunny and in the low 70s nearly every day. I walk my parents' dog, Ellie, a couple times a day, plus I get to either run, hike, or bike most days as well. I also get to read outside in the screened-in porch, sitting in a rocking chair, drinking excessive amounts of coffee while the suns streams over me, vaguely wondering if living in the South would be such a crazy idea after all.
*That being said, I am still convinced the North is better, and I continue to pledge my undying love and devotion to it. Amen.
*I like to cook. This one surprised me a little. What's even more surprising is that I'm kind of good at it. My sister bought me a Moosewood cookbook a few years ago, but until this month, all I'd done was flipped through it. The recipes in it all looked intimidatingly complicated and time-consuming, and they all required a lot of ingredients (which in turn required a lot of extra cash lying around). Thanks to my parents subsidizing this new cooking hobby (hey..they are benefitting from this too!), I've made a couple meals that have all turned out well. My best experiment so far was the minestrone I made last night.
*I like being around my parents! And no, I did not just stick this in here to suck up since they read this occasionally. I must admit the idea of moving in with them for two months made me nervous. I haven't lived with them for a significant amount of time since high school. Even during college, I was pretty much gone each summer. Spending all this time with them has been really nice so far, and it's good to know I've finally matured enough to co-exist peacefully with my parents. I feel like I should get some Grown-Up Points for this.
*I like reading. I really don't see the need to elaborate on this one.
*I like spending time with Jesus. Whew. My four years in Seminary would've been awfully long and painful if that had changed..
*I like having friends. Ironically, this was made clear due to my lack of friends down here. However, I have some pretty incredible friends scattered around the US...and world, actually...who are doing well staying in touch (and keeping me entertained). I'm also making sure I get out and meet people around here. If my only face-to-face social interaction over these two months was with my parents, that would just be Bad. Real, real bad. They're great, but there is no way that would be healthy. The sad part is, if I do end up finding any amazing friends down here over the next two months, I'm just going to end up abandoning them at the end of the year for Chicago.
On that cheerful note, this encompasses what I've learned about myself so far. Next week, I get to learn how unlabelled Rachel does while hanging out with her entire family during the much-anticipated Christthanksgivingmas 2011!
Seriously though, it's slipping by faster than I'd expected. It's also been better than I'd hoped.
For all that I had thought about (and blogged about) my anticipation of what Seminary will be like come January, I neglected thinking much about this odd little two month window of time between New York and Chicago. I could hardly form any expectations for this time because frankly, there was barely anything to structure my expectations around.
During this month and the next, I can literally do whatever I choose to do with my time. [There are limitations, of course, largely centered around a lack of income and my decision to not find a job and earn some money while I'm down here.] I was, and am, curious to see who I am and how I act - or react - to just being Rachel for two months. There are no comfortable labels for me to hide behind, like "student," "Americorps paralegal," or "youth minister." It's just me, no official occupation or clearly articulated purpose.
This idea might be making you uncomfortable. Pause for a moment. Imagine you had two entire months without a structured schedule, occupation, obligation, or pressure to do anything or be anywhere. Can you fathom how much this could potentially mess with your sense of identity? I think we often try to draw our sense of worth or value from what we do, what we accomplish, and how others view us. Could you deal with who you are, minus your position or role in society? By the end of these two months, I guess we'll find out if I can.
Now, this two month period of blank time in my life is not as traumatic as the scenario I just painted for you, based on the fact that 1). I know that this break from life is temporary and I know exactly when it ends, and 2). I have already settled on my next occupation as a student at North Park's seminary and business school.
However, there are still a little over two months were I have a massive amount of free time to do what I want. I have a theory that this two months of just being Rachel, without any label, may be a much clearer indicator of who I am than the comfortably labelled Rachel. Down here, my schedule is not filled up with work, youth group, and time with my friends (the last factor being based on the fact I have no friends down here lol). My time is almost entirely under my control, and I think that how I choose to spend that time may reflect more about my real identity than when my life is dominated by commitments I don't always have much control over.
Here are a few things I've learned (or affirmed) about myself in the last two and a half weeks:
*I love being outside. This is a part of me that suffered immensely while I lived in New York based on the, um, temperamental weather patterns of western New York.
That's just a nice way of saying the weather often blows there. Winter from November through April is not ok on any level. Did I mention I'll be in Chicago for most of the next four years? Awesome..
Here, it's been sunny and in the low 70s nearly every day. I walk my parents' dog, Ellie, a couple times a day, plus I get to either run, hike, or bike most days as well. I also get to read outside in the screened-in porch, sitting in a rocking chair, drinking excessive amounts of coffee while the suns streams over me, vaguely wondering if living in the South would be such a crazy idea after all.
*That being said, I am still convinced the North is better, and I continue to pledge my undying love and devotion to it. Amen.
*I like to cook. This one surprised me a little. What's even more surprising is that I'm kind of good at it. My sister bought me a Moosewood cookbook a few years ago, but until this month, all I'd done was flipped through it. The recipes in it all looked intimidatingly complicated and time-consuming, and they all required a lot of ingredients (which in turn required a lot of extra cash lying around). Thanks to my parents subsidizing this new cooking hobby (hey..they are benefitting from this too!), I've made a couple meals that have all turned out well. My best experiment so far was the minestrone I made last night.
*I like being around my parents! And no, I did not just stick this in here to suck up since they read this occasionally. I must admit the idea of moving in with them for two months made me nervous. I haven't lived with them for a significant amount of time since high school. Even during college, I was pretty much gone each summer. Spending all this time with them has been really nice so far, and it's good to know I've finally matured enough to co-exist peacefully with my parents. I feel like I should get some Grown-Up Points for this.
*I like reading. I really don't see the need to elaborate on this one.
*I like spending time with Jesus. Whew. My four years in Seminary would've been awfully long and painful if that had changed..
*I like having friends. Ironically, this was made clear due to my lack of friends down here. However, I have some pretty incredible friends scattered around the US...and world, actually...who are doing well staying in touch (and keeping me entertained). I'm also making sure I get out and meet people around here. If my only face-to-face social interaction over these two months was with my parents, that would just be Bad. Real, real bad. They're great, but there is no way that would be healthy. The sad part is, if I do end up finding any amazing friends down here over the next two months, I'm just going to end up abandoning them at the end of the year for Chicago.
On that cheerful note, this encompasses what I've learned about myself so far. Next week, I get to learn how unlabelled Rachel does while hanging out with her entire family during the much-anticipated Christthanksgivingmas 2011!
11.06.2011
the winding road to Dixieland, part two
Vienna, VA >> Summerville, SC
Sunday evening, I drove a short distance from Vienna to Stephens City, VA to spend the night at Mike and Colleen's apartment. Those two are friends from camp; I worked with them back in '06 and we've stayed connected ever since. After catching up for awhile, we watched a great American classic - The Goonies! None of us had seen it before [I am ashamed...don't judge us too harshly for that] and it was better than I ever could have imagined. It only stoked my desire to be a pirate captain. Monday morning after breakfast, I embarked on my last big day of driving.
The first half of Monday's journey took me to Blacksburg, VA, where I visited Erin Balaban [better known in Dewittville, NY as Balaban the Conqueror]. Erin's a friend from camp as well, and we worked together a few years ago. We stood outside a grocery store for the first hour of my visit, since her sorority was collecting items for a local women's shelter. This got pretty entertaining, as we met all sorts of people this way. We met everyone from the super friendly to the outright anti-social, who would hastily pull out their phones and pretend to be in the middle of an important conversation as they practically ran by us into the store. And then there were people in costumes...gotta love Halloween in a college town. After this, we grabbed lunch and caught up, then I hopped back in my hoarder car and gunned it for Asheville, NC.
I got to Asheville without a problem, and I eventually found Becky and Justin's apartment in West Asheville. Besides my GPS's inability to pick up the location of their apartment, as the apartment complex is newer, it was dark. Bad combination.
Becky is one of my best friends from Allegheny, and Justin is her husband of 2+ years! They're pretty great. We grabbed dinner at HomeGrown, a fantastic little restaurant in Asheville, and then I caught up with Becky while cutting out things for her classroom. The next morning, I said goodbye to Becks at 6:30 (Yikes! Yet another reason I couldn't handle being a teacher.), went back to sleep..of course..and ended up leaving late in the morning for downtown Asheville.
There, I met up with Dillon, a friend from this past summer's staff at Mission Meadows. Dillon, a native Alabamian (Alabamer? Alabamen?) moved down to Asheville at the end of the summer. I'm not surprised he likes it there, seeing as he's a natural musician who can play any instrument I've ever seen, and Asheville's a great musical/artsy town. Besides that, Asheville's ridiculously gorgeous. It's up in the mountains of western NC, and it's at a high enough altitude that it gets all four seasons.
After Dillon and I met up, we walked..and we walked..and we walked in search of food. We eventually found a crepe restaurant downtown with some killer sweet tea. Let me say for the record that there are some things the South does better. This list includes (but is not limited to): the art of relaxation, comfort food, overall weather patterns, whiskey, pralines, and keeping cars rust-free. There are many things the South does that's just plain crazy (boiled peanuts anyone?! Siiiick.), but I'm sure I'll get into that another day.
My visit with Dillon ended after that, and I jumped back in my car for the final leg of the trip. I drove from Asheville to Summerville in record time, thanks to some good weather, a speed limit of 70 mph (add this to the list of things the South does better), and an impatience to reach my destination. Not only was I looking forward to seeing my parents, but I was also itching to NOT BE IN MY CAR.
Don't misunderstand me - roadtrips and adventures are still wonderful in my book. However, sitting for hours on end in a hoarder car for nearly a week can make a person long for the end of their journey.
Around 5:30 on Tuesday evening, I rolled into my parents driveway in Suburbia, uh I mean, Summerville, SC. My mom and dad were thrilled to see me, which I suspect is largely due to my status as baby of the family/favorite child.
My roadtrip has officially ended. I am in Dixieland for the next two months, which still blows my mind. As in, what do you do with a two month vacation from Real Life? There will be more on that in following posts, I'm sure. Til then, I will try to settle into my new home in the South.
Go Yankees.
Sunday evening, I drove a short distance from Vienna to Stephens City, VA to spend the night at Mike and Colleen's apartment. Those two are friends from camp; I worked with them back in '06 and we've stayed connected ever since. After catching up for awhile, we watched a great American classic - The Goonies! None of us had seen it before [I am ashamed...don't judge us too harshly for that] and it was better than I ever could have imagined. It only stoked my desire to be a pirate captain. Monday morning after breakfast, I embarked on my last big day of driving.
The first half of Monday's journey took me to Blacksburg, VA, where I visited Erin Balaban [better known in Dewittville, NY as Balaban the Conqueror]. Erin's a friend from camp as well, and we worked together a few years ago. We stood outside a grocery store for the first hour of my visit, since her sorority was collecting items for a local women's shelter. This got pretty entertaining, as we met all sorts of people this way. We met everyone from the super friendly to the outright anti-social, who would hastily pull out their phones and pretend to be in the middle of an important conversation as they practically ran by us into the store. And then there were people in costumes...gotta love Halloween in a college town. After this, we grabbed lunch and caught up, then I hopped back in my hoarder car and gunned it for Asheville, NC.
I got to Asheville without a problem, and I eventually found Becky and Justin's apartment in West Asheville. Besides my GPS's inability to pick up the location of their apartment, as the apartment complex is newer, it was dark. Bad combination.
Becky is one of my best friends from Allegheny, and Justin is her husband of 2+ years! They're pretty great. We grabbed dinner at HomeGrown, a fantastic little restaurant in Asheville, and then I caught up with Becky while cutting out things for her classroom. The next morning, I said goodbye to Becks at 6:30 (Yikes! Yet another reason I couldn't handle being a teacher.), went back to sleep..of course..and ended up leaving late in the morning for downtown Asheville.
There, I met up with Dillon, a friend from this past summer's staff at Mission Meadows. Dillon, a native Alabamian (Alabamer? Alabamen?) moved down to Asheville at the end of the summer. I'm not surprised he likes it there, seeing as he's a natural musician who can play any instrument I've ever seen, and Asheville's a great musical/artsy town. Besides that, Asheville's ridiculously gorgeous. It's up in the mountains of western NC, and it's at a high enough altitude that it gets all four seasons.
After Dillon and I met up, we walked..and we walked..and we walked in search of food. We eventually found a crepe restaurant downtown with some killer sweet tea. Let me say for the record that there are some things the South does better. This list includes (but is not limited to): the art of relaxation, comfort food, overall weather patterns, whiskey, pralines, and keeping cars rust-free. There are many things the South does that's just plain crazy (boiled peanuts anyone?! Siiiick.), but I'm sure I'll get into that another day.
My visit with Dillon ended after that, and I jumped back in my car for the final leg of the trip. I drove from Asheville to Summerville in record time, thanks to some good weather, a speed limit of 70 mph (add this to the list of things the South does better), and an impatience to reach my destination. Not only was I looking forward to seeing my parents, but I was also itching to NOT BE IN MY CAR.
Don't misunderstand me - roadtrips and adventures are still wonderful in my book. However, sitting for hours on end in a hoarder car for nearly a week can make a person long for the end of their journey.
Around 5:30 on Tuesday evening, I rolled into my parents driveway in Suburbia, uh I mean, Summerville, SC. My mom and dad were thrilled to see me, which I suspect is largely due to my status as baby of the family/favorite child.
My roadtrip has officially ended. I am in Dixieland for the next two months, which still blows my mind. As in, what do you do with a two month vacation from Real Life? There will be more on that in following posts, I'm sure. Til then, I will try to settle into my new home in the South.
Go Yankees.
11.04.2011
the winding road to Dixieland, part 1
Jamestown, NY >> Vienna, VA
On leaving New York last Thursday, I had two options: 1). put the pedal to the metal and haul it down to South Carolina, or 2). meander slowly down the East Coast, visiting a dozen friends "on the way." This was not a difficult decision. Roadtrips are glorious. That being said, I must admit that it would've been nicer not to have to drag most of my worldly possessions along with me on this trip. My car was rather full, to put it mildly. As in, I felt slightly claustrophobic at times as my stuff hemmed me in on all sides.
However, I wasn't about to let claustrophobia or "unsafe driving conditions" - a.k.a. not being able to see much out the rear window - rain on my parade. Or the fact that I had to do this roadtrip on my own because my stuff took over my car. If you can't fit a friend in the car with you on a roadtrip, I can now testify that visiting 12 people along the way more than makes up for it.
Here are the highlights from my mini-adventure, starting with Thursday morning:
I left late, of course, and drove a little bit faster so I'd be on time for lunch with Todd in Pittsburgh. Todd's a friend from high school, church, and camp, and he's currently getting his Masters of Geniusness from Carnegie Mellon. I managed to get to Pittsburgh on schedule, only to have my GPS spaz out due to Pittsburgh's screwy infrastructure, which made me late for lunch. If someone could let me know what drunken fool designed Pittsburgh's roads and bridges, I'd appreciate it. Anyways, Todd and I met on CMU's campus and had a great lunch at some little cafe/restaurant in CMU's sprawling campus center. Despite my GPS pitching a fit, lunch with Todd was an excellent start to my travels.
Next stop: Gettysburg College. I drove through a persistent rainfall during the four hour trip from Pittsburgh to Gettysburg that afternoon. [Total hours in the car on Thursday=7.] The drive itself was super gorgeous, even with the bad weather. Once I got off the PA Turnpike, I drove on the Lincoln Highway for part of the way to Gettysburg. This highway cuts through some beautiful mountains. As in, let's drive up a mountain! Ok, let's go down. Oh hey, another mountain to climb! Repeat. Driving down the mountains, I kept seeing signs about reducing the gear for your vehicle, which I assumed applied only to truckers. Wrong. I realized near the end of this little roller coaster ride this actually meant cars needed to downshift when going down the mountains, that's how steep it was! I'm lucky my car still has functioning brakes.
I reached Gettysburg in time for dinner with Linnea and Liz. Their college's cafeteria has a gluten-free section, which they were psyched to show me.
SIDENOTE: I love that my friends frequently call or text me when they see the words "gluten-free" plastered on anything. [That statement wasn't even entirely sarcastic. Sometimes it can be endearing.] For any of you out there who are concerned your friends may forget about you, simply get a weird disease and they will surely think of you anytime they come across that disease during their lifetime.
Hanging out with Linnea and Liz on Thursday and Friday was great. I got an exceptional tour of their campus (which included a stop by some famous haunted building I've seen before on the History Channel!), learned all about the Battle of Gettysburg at a museum downtown, had lunch at Gettysburg Eddie's, and toured the battlefield. If you weren't aware, the efforts to preserve and memorialize the battle have been pretty extraordinary. If you haven't visited Gettysburg yet, go! Now!
Actually, you should wait. Wait for Spring. It's about to get uncomfortably cold around those parts.
I left Gettysburg early Friday afternoon for the University of Maryland to see the one and only Clare Bubniak! Clare's a friend from camp; we were on staff together in 2010. We walked around campus, mocked the Occupy Wall Street protest that was taking place in the middle of the quad (about a dozen subdued protesters hanging out in the center of an unquestionably liberal institution - not exactly a striking demonstration), and got coffee, of course. We happened to meet a celebrity while drinking coffee and catching up. That's right, THE University of Maryland mascot came up to us, and we took a picture with.. him? her? It's impossible to tell. I think it was some kind of bird. Maybe not. As you can tell from my stellar description, it was quite unforgettable.
After Clare and I circled the parking garage my hoarder car was parked in, we finally located it and I took off for Vienna, VA. I got there a little over an hour later, and I spent Friday night through Sunday evening with my friend Matt (from Allegheny). Matt was the unofficial fifth roommate in my apartment senior year of college, who'd show up to watch hours of House with us and graciously help us eat food whenever Becky went on baking sprees. Our weekend consisted of: a wine bar (to pretend we're classy grown-ups), the best gelato I've had on this side of the pond, Superhero Movie Marathon Day (when it SNOWED! all day Saturday in the DC area), cigars and scotch, church, and watching the Steelers game over dinner with Ryan Cole at a brewery in DC. Ryan's another Allegheny friend, and will someday be Mayor of Meadville. If I recall correctly, he agreed I could run his campaign.
This concludes part one of my trip. To be continued..
On leaving New York last Thursday, I had two options: 1). put the pedal to the metal and haul it down to South Carolina, or 2). meander slowly down the East Coast, visiting a dozen friends "on the way." This was not a difficult decision. Roadtrips are glorious. That being said, I must admit that it would've been nicer not to have to drag most of my worldly possessions along with me on this trip. My car was rather full, to put it mildly. As in, I felt slightly claustrophobic at times as my stuff hemmed me in on all sides.
However, I wasn't about to let claustrophobia or "unsafe driving conditions" - a.k.a. not being able to see much out the rear window - rain on my parade. Or the fact that I had to do this roadtrip on my own because my stuff took over my car. If you can't fit a friend in the car with you on a roadtrip, I can now testify that visiting 12 people along the way more than makes up for it.
Here are the highlights from my mini-adventure, starting with Thursday morning:
I left late, of course, and drove a little bit faster so I'd be on time for lunch with Todd in Pittsburgh. Todd's a friend from high school, church, and camp, and he's currently getting his Masters of Geniusness from Carnegie Mellon. I managed to get to Pittsburgh on schedule, only to have my GPS spaz out due to Pittsburgh's screwy infrastructure, which made me late for lunch. If someone could let me know what drunken fool designed Pittsburgh's roads and bridges, I'd appreciate it. Anyways, Todd and I met on CMU's campus and had a great lunch at some little cafe/restaurant in CMU's sprawling campus center. Despite my GPS pitching a fit, lunch with Todd was an excellent start to my travels.
Next stop: Gettysburg College. I drove through a persistent rainfall during the four hour trip from Pittsburgh to Gettysburg that afternoon. [Total hours in the car on Thursday=7.] The drive itself was super gorgeous, even with the bad weather. Once I got off the PA Turnpike, I drove on the Lincoln Highway for part of the way to Gettysburg. This highway cuts through some beautiful mountains. As in, let's drive up a mountain! Ok, let's go down. Oh hey, another mountain to climb! Repeat. Driving down the mountains, I kept seeing signs about reducing the gear for your vehicle, which I assumed applied only to truckers. Wrong. I realized near the end of this little roller coaster ride this actually meant cars needed to downshift when going down the mountains, that's how steep it was! I'm lucky my car still has functioning brakes.
I reached Gettysburg in time for dinner with Linnea and Liz. Their college's cafeteria has a gluten-free section, which they were psyched to show me.
SIDENOTE: I love that my friends frequently call or text me when they see the words "gluten-free" plastered on anything. [That statement wasn't even entirely sarcastic. Sometimes it can be endearing.] For any of you out there who are concerned your friends may forget about you, simply get a weird disease and they will surely think of you anytime they come across that disease during their lifetime.
Hanging out with Linnea and Liz on Thursday and Friday was great. I got an exceptional tour of their campus (which included a stop by some famous haunted building I've seen before on the History Channel!), learned all about the Battle of Gettysburg at a museum downtown, had lunch at Gettysburg Eddie's, and toured the battlefield. If you weren't aware, the efforts to preserve and memorialize the battle have been pretty extraordinary. If you haven't visited Gettysburg yet, go! Now!
Actually, you should wait. Wait for Spring. It's about to get uncomfortably cold around those parts.
I left Gettysburg early Friday afternoon for the University of Maryland to see the one and only Clare Bubniak! Clare's a friend from camp; we were on staff together in 2010. We walked around campus, mocked the Occupy Wall Street protest that was taking place in the middle of the quad (about a dozen subdued protesters hanging out in the center of an unquestionably liberal institution - not exactly a striking demonstration), and got coffee, of course. We happened to meet a celebrity while drinking coffee and catching up. That's right, THE University of Maryland mascot came up to us, and we took a picture with.. him? her? It's impossible to tell. I think it was some kind of bird. Maybe not. As you can tell from my stellar description, it was quite unforgettable.
After Clare and I circled the parking garage my hoarder car was parked in, we finally located it and I took off for Vienna, VA. I got there a little over an hour later, and I spent Friday night through Sunday evening with my friend Matt (from Allegheny). Matt was the unofficial fifth roommate in my apartment senior year of college, who'd show up to watch hours of House with us and graciously help us eat food whenever Becky went on baking sprees. Our weekend consisted of: a wine bar (to pretend we're classy grown-ups), the best gelato I've had on this side of the pond, Superhero Movie Marathon Day (when it SNOWED! all day Saturday in the DC area), cigars and scotch, church, and watching the Steelers game over dinner with Ryan Cole at a brewery in DC. Ryan's another Allegheny friend, and will someday be Mayor of Meadville. If I recall correctly, he agreed I could run his campaign.
This concludes part one of my trip. To be continued..
10.27.2011
the inevitable goodbye post
I am a New Yorker, born and raised. (This has nothing to do with the NYC New Yorker of course; that's a different brand altogether.)
I was born on Ellis Avenue in Jamestown, NY. I'd show you the house I grew up in if I could; it's still perfect in my mind.
When I was four or five, living at Ellis, my dad taught me how to ride a bike. As soon as I caught on, I rode that bike around and around the block until dusk, when my parents called me inside. They didn't let me cross any streets at first, so I just circled the block, deliriously happy with my first taste of independence and adventure.
I am twenty-four now. I spent my first 18 years in Jamestown and Bemus until I left for college. Many college-bound kids (or young adults?? Whatever fits..) hardly glance back here as they move away for college and then jobs. It's hardly a secret that this area is, and has been, choking economically for a while. It doesn't draw many college grads back.
It drew me back. This area has pulled on my heart since my childhood. It's hard to place a finger on why it has a hold on me. Is it the natural beauty in this region, all the history, the determination of this area to keep struggling through this tough time and not give up, or just the simple fact that this is the community that raised me?
Whatever it was, I've been here for nearly 2 1/2 years since graduating from Allegheny. It's been a fantastic time. I built up a life here. I found my place in the community. I even put together a (very complex, very extended, and very hard to explain) fake family up here, beyond my already existing - and wonderful - real family members. I survived as a quasi grown-up as well, with a job, a (3 minute!) commute, a lunch hour, laundry days, grocery shopping, health insurance, dinner parties...the list of Grown-Up Achievements goes on and on.
All of this in my hometown in New York.
Last night, as the rain pattered on the roof and my car sat in the garage - packed to the hilt and ready for my roadtrip down the East Coast - I searched within me for that four year old Rachel who could not stop grinning as she celebrated her new-found independence by biking around the block again and again.
That thirst for adventure and exploration has never left me. It waxes and wanes, but it's always there. The many hard goodbyes I've gone through over the past week and a half could easily have overwhelmed me with sadness or a sense of bitterness on leaving. My attachment to my New York roots could have disillusioned me as I prepared to go from this place. The monumental changes I'm pushing through could have made me so uncomfortable and agitated that I could've just thrown in the towel and clung to the old, familiar, well-known life I've carved out here.
But there's no joy in any of those options, no adventure, nothing new to learn. My time here is done, and God's beckoning me to other places, other people, another life, a new challenge.
Thank you, New York. Thank you, everyone who remains here and helped make this place home to me. It's still a little surreal that this chapter's over, but it's time for me to set my sails and catch the wind blowing toward my next adventure.
I was born on Ellis Avenue in Jamestown, NY. I'd show you the house I grew up in if I could; it's still perfect in my mind.
When I was four or five, living at Ellis, my dad taught me how to ride a bike. As soon as I caught on, I rode that bike around and around the block until dusk, when my parents called me inside. They didn't let me cross any streets at first, so I just circled the block, deliriously happy with my first taste of independence and adventure.
I am twenty-four now. I spent my first 18 years in Jamestown and Bemus until I left for college. Many college-bound kids (or young adults?? Whatever fits..) hardly glance back here as they move away for college and then jobs. It's hardly a secret that this area is, and has been, choking economically for a while. It doesn't draw many college grads back.
It drew me back. This area has pulled on my heart since my childhood. It's hard to place a finger on why it has a hold on me. Is it the natural beauty in this region, all the history, the determination of this area to keep struggling through this tough time and not give up, or just the simple fact that this is the community that raised me?
Whatever it was, I've been here for nearly 2 1/2 years since graduating from Allegheny. It's been a fantastic time. I built up a life here. I found my place in the community. I even put together a (very complex, very extended, and very hard to explain) fake family up here, beyond my already existing - and wonderful - real family members. I survived as a quasi grown-up as well, with a job, a (3 minute!) commute, a lunch hour, laundry days, grocery shopping, health insurance, dinner parties...the list of Grown-Up Achievements goes on and on.
All of this in my hometown in New York.
Last night, as the rain pattered on the roof and my car sat in the garage - packed to the hilt and ready for my roadtrip down the East Coast - I searched within me for that four year old Rachel who could not stop grinning as she celebrated her new-found independence by biking around the block again and again.
That thirst for adventure and exploration has never left me. It waxes and wanes, but it's always there. The many hard goodbyes I've gone through over the past week and a half could easily have overwhelmed me with sadness or a sense of bitterness on leaving. My attachment to my New York roots could have disillusioned me as I prepared to go from this place. The monumental changes I'm pushing through could have made me so uncomfortable and agitated that I could've just thrown in the towel and clung to the old, familiar, well-known life I've carved out here.
But there's no joy in any of those options, no adventure, nothing new to learn. My time here is done, and God's beckoning me to other places, other people, another life, a new challenge.
Thank you, New York. Thank you, everyone who remains here and helped make this place home to me. It's still a little surreal that this chapter's over, but it's time for me to set my sails and catch the wind blowing toward my next adventure.
10.03.2011
time to pick up a new book
Considering the super short length of my last post, I've decided to step it up and write a bit more about my current state of transition/general upheaval.
I am (more or less) settled in at my fake parents' house in Bemus. My room is packed with all my belongings, which has led to two realizations:
1). I am very thankful to my fake parents for giving me a room that is so large.
2). Regardless of how well I thought I was doing with living simply and not getting bogged down with lots of stuff, I still need to get rid of some things. There is absolutely zero chance at fitting all my things into my car, unless I start strapping stuff to the roof. Maybe the sides too.
It's very strange not to be in the apartment anymore with Laura. I realized that my one year in the apartment is the longest amount of time I've spent in one residence for a long time - since 2005, when I was still in high school, living with my parents. Ever since then, the longest I've lived in a dorm, apartment, house (or camp) has been nine months. I feel a little misplaced and rootless right now. I have already begun focusing more on what's coming up (2 more moves in 3 months - first to Charleston, then Chicago) than what's going on here.
I haven't completely checked out of the present yet, but I can feel the undercurrents of the future pulling me in. I know that if I spend too much time thinking about this place - about my life here - about all I'm leaving behind - I would end up feeling rather uneasy and unhealthily nostalgic.
Most things in my present life have become too easy, too comfortable, too familiar. It's like reading an old, worn-in novel I've read a hundred times before, only there are slight variations thrown in each time I open it and reread it. I get a warm, comfortable feeling while reading it because there are so many parts and characters I love in this novel. I can even read between the lines and predict what's coming on the next page.
Which is part of why I need to go. I need to pick up a new book, meet some new characters, be astonished by plot twists and adventures I never even saw coming. It's strange to leave a place, a life, where things are going well and I've settled into my niche. Leaving when things are difficult hardly even requires common sense; choosing to leave when things are good takes a little bit of irrationality. You're giving up something concrete and established and navigable for a vision, a glimmer of hope, that there's something else out there in the world for you. Something you can't even begin to imagine, but you've somehow been missing that thing all along.
I get to ease into a new life, a new city, a new daily rhythm. Same old me, at least it will be at the start. Parts of me will be reshaped and remolded by my brand new world, and I think that's a good thing. Too much of the same makes things stale or bitter, and I can't stomach either.
Keep me in mind as I get through these next few months. Trading in my old, familiar novel for the newest book in this series is going to be surprisingly difficult sometimes. Remind me that the adventure's worth it in the end and that unless a person chooses to give into fear of the unknown and unfamiliar, it has no hold over them.
Here's to a fearless transition to my next adventure.
I am (more or less) settled in at my fake parents' house in Bemus. My room is packed with all my belongings, which has led to two realizations:
1). I am very thankful to my fake parents for giving me a room that is so large.
2). Regardless of how well I thought I was doing with living simply and not getting bogged down with lots of stuff, I still need to get rid of some things. There is absolutely zero chance at fitting all my things into my car, unless I start strapping stuff to the roof. Maybe the sides too.
It's very strange not to be in the apartment anymore with Laura. I realized that my one year in the apartment is the longest amount of time I've spent in one residence for a long time - since 2005, when I was still in high school, living with my parents. Ever since then, the longest I've lived in a dorm, apartment, house (or camp) has been nine months. I feel a little misplaced and rootless right now. I have already begun focusing more on what's coming up (2 more moves in 3 months - first to Charleston, then Chicago) than what's going on here.
I haven't completely checked out of the present yet, but I can feel the undercurrents of the future pulling me in. I know that if I spend too much time thinking about this place - about my life here - about all I'm leaving behind - I would end up feeling rather uneasy and unhealthily nostalgic.
Most things in my present life have become too easy, too comfortable, too familiar. It's like reading an old, worn-in novel I've read a hundred times before, only there are slight variations thrown in each time I open it and reread it. I get a warm, comfortable feeling while reading it because there are so many parts and characters I love in this novel. I can even read between the lines and predict what's coming on the next page.
Which is part of why I need to go. I need to pick up a new book, meet some new characters, be astonished by plot twists and adventures I never even saw coming. It's strange to leave a place, a life, where things are going well and I've settled into my niche. Leaving when things are difficult hardly even requires common sense; choosing to leave when things are good takes a little bit of irrationality. You're giving up something concrete and established and navigable for a vision, a glimmer of hope, that there's something else out there in the world for you. Something you can't even begin to imagine, but you've somehow been missing that thing all along.
I get to ease into a new life, a new city, a new daily rhythm. Same old me, at least it will be at the start. Parts of me will be reshaped and remolded by my brand new world, and I think that's a good thing. Too much of the same makes things stale or bitter, and I can't stomach either.
Keep me in mind as I get through these next few months. Trading in my old, familiar novel for the newest book in this series is going to be surprisingly difficult sometimes. Remind me that the adventure's worth it in the end and that unless a person chooses to give into fear of the unknown and unfamiliar, it has no hold over them.
Here's to a fearless transition to my next adventure.
9.30.2011
and it all falls away
Today, I am 0 days away from moving out of my apartment (as in, I am most likely frantically packing and throwing things into my car as we speak). I am 27 days away from fleeing the North for the remainder of the year. I am (approximately) 91 days away from moving to Chicago to start grad school.
Enough change for you?
I’m on the edge of the abyss right now, with everything that is safe and comfortable and predictable behind me and beneath my feet. Wish me luck as I take a deep breath and jump.
8.29.2011
the problem with burning bushes
I have this friend. Let’s call her “Anne,” just for anonymity’s sake.
Saying this summer was a rough one for Anne would be an understatement. This past year, in fact, has been pretty exhausting and frustrating for Anne. One of the most difficult and enduring obstacles throughout the year was a lack of clarity regarding where her life is going.
Everyone wants to know the direction our lives are going and what our purpose is in this vast, complex world. We do all sorts of funny things to try and figure it out. We read books. We try to interpret sloppy tea dregs at the bottom of mugs. We take online quizzes that promise to reveal our dream jobs. We scribble the pros and cons of our various options on handmade charts. We pester the people who are closest to us with “Well…you know me…what do you think I should do?”
And then we look for signs. That’s right. We look for signs to tell us what to do with our lives. I’m not just referring to religious people. Not just the superstitious or spiritualists either. Regardless of our beliefs, our faith, or our lack thereof, we all look for signs when we’ve lost our way and are desperate to learn who we are or why we’re here.
Underneath it all, I think most of us believe our destinies are caught up in something bigger than just ourselves. Regardless of what certain cantankerous philosophers have argued in the past (and present), I find it hard to accept that humans are intended to be solitary creatures who live out their miserable days, hopelessly disconnected from each other and living out a purposeless term of years. My life was and is not an isolated accident. I don’t exist simply to slog my way through a meaningless, short life until one day, my life spark is snuffed out by an accident, illness, or old age.
The truth is, we’re undeniably connected. Our lives are – for better of for worse – interwoven with all sorts of other peoples’ lives. It follows that our purpose is also not isolated; it fits into something beyond itself as well.
Which brings me back to the sign-seeking. We’d love it if some mighty higher power would take half a second of their time to reach down into our humble, mundane world and make it obnoxiously clear as to which direction we should pursue with our lives.
Hey, that’s not such a crazy idea, right? After all, the Holy Spirit settled into a bush in order to communicate with Moses, spontaneously igniting it (and probably raising Moses’ blood pressure significantly). God also struck Paul blind while he was walking down a road in order to get his attention. Very effective.
We joke about wanting a sign like that in our lives. Minus the blindness, of course. And the weird spontaneously burning vegetation, because that’s a definite fire hazard. In fact…don’t send a sign if it will inconvenience or unnerve us in any way…
Here’s the thing. Would you really want a sign if you actually got one? Would you even listen to it? Chances are, you’d sit there second-guessing if it really happened or if it was all in your head. And what if you don’t get the sign when you ask for it? Will you just use that as an excuse for further inaction and internal debate?
Let’s stop all this talk about signs for a minute. You want to know your life’s purpose? Here you go. I’ll hit the basics (take notes, if you’d like):
1. To be loved – by God and people – and love them all back. While you’re at it, try to love yourself too (not in the narcissistic, putting mirrors all over your house to stare at yourself all day kind of way. More like accepting yourself for who you are and not focusing on “fixing” unimportant things that never actually mattered). Your life’s primary purpose never, ever, ever had anything to do with a job title, certain level of income, being the best-looking, most popular, the list goes on and on. Never.
2. Every other part of your purpose flows out of #1. Look for jobs you love. Live in places you love. Find hobbies you love. I know, you’re not always going to be enamored with your circumstances. When your circumstances are making you want to tear your hair out, focus on Purpose #1, keeping your eyes and ears open for the next step to take.
It’s not like God’s sitting up there in heaven, laughing while He makes your life into an impenetrable maze. If you take a moment (or two, or three..) to reflect on who you really are and what you’re genuinely passionate about, you’ll eventually know what to do when you reach the forks in the road.
Or, you can sit on your bum waiting for the bush in your front yard to spontaneously ignite. Your call.
8.09.2011
my top 5: things to fear at seminary
There are all sorts of inspirational sayings and quotes about not letting fear cast a shadow on your life or influence your decisions. Sayings like “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself” [FDR]. There are numerous passages in scripture about standing firm against fear of people or things of this world and how God is the only one we should ever fear.
These quotes all sound great, really. Especially when they make it into movies as soundbites you hear while epic music is playing in the background and the hero is saving the day, against all odds.
Funnily enough, when it comes to real life, they don’t hold as much traction. Deep down, we’re all a bunch of scaredy-cats (in one way or another), trying to convince ourselves we have things under control as the world goes spinning by.
We especially feel fear when change is on the horizon. In barely over two months, I’ll be finished with my Americorps position in Jamestown. I’ll spend the rest of the year as a beach bum at my parents’ house in South Carolina. I can honestly say I’m not too afraid of that transition.
However, then I start North Park Seminary in January. New city. New place. New people. The fear associated with those changes are manageable to me. It’s being a student at the Seminary that’s flipping me out a little. After some thought, I’ve identified the top 5 things are making me nervous.
1. Actually being at Seminary
This may sound strange, but bear with me here. Firstly, I’m afraid of getting caught in the bubble that exists at pretty much every college campus or close-knit community. I don’t want my perspective to get so skewed that I stop paying attention to or caring about what’s going on outside of North Park. I definitely don’t want to get so comfortable there that I stop being challenged and lose contact with people who think differently than me.
I’m also nervous about the people at Seminary. I keep thinking they’re going to be wayyy too serious. Working at camp for 4 out of the last 6 summers , plus working with the youth at my church for the last 2 years, has kept me pretty young at heart (a.k.a. immature? That’s a good possibility..). Beyond that, I’ll be one of the younger students at Seminary. I feel like I’ll be laughing inappropriately during class and making jokes about all the wrong things, while my fellow students shake their heads and pray for me to grow up. I’m worried they’re going to try and make every conversation super heavy and deep. I can picture me in the corner, scheming about pranking my next door neighbors or plotting to run away from school on a pirate ship, while the other students are debating various theological doctrines and whatnot. This leads to my next fear, which is…
2. People wondering what on earth I’m doing in Seminary (and how I got in)
Funny thing is, I wouldn’t have guessed I’d end up in Seminary if you’d asked me a few years ago. Plans change. What I want to do with my life hasn’t changed drastically over the last couple of years, but my route to getting there has. I’m OK with that, and I’m OK knowing God’s plan for my life isn’t always going to match up with the ideas I had…but Seminary was kind of a surprise, even for me. If someone who didn’t know me well looked back on what I’ve studied (history, political science, and Spanish at a secular liberal arts school) and what I want to be (namely, that I don’t want to be a pastor at this point), they’d be understandably confused about why I am in Seminary. Some people don’t even think women should be in Seminary.
The reason I’m going back to school and the reason I’m pursuing two Masters Degrees at North Park (Masters of Divinity and Masters of Non-profit Administration) is so I can run a faith-based nonprofit organization one day. There are many other ways to do that beyond the route I’m taking, but I think this dual program between the Business school and Seminary is the best way to prepare me. I’m excited for all that I’ll learn at the Seminary (I get to study Hebrew, Greek, biblical studies courses, church history, and all sorts of things). I just need to keep remembering that despite my youth and the fact I don’t really want to be a pastor – in other words, despite the fact I don’t feel like I am going to fit the mold of a lot of the other students – the things that are different about me are only going to add to the community there.
3. College loans
Finances. Ew.
I am lucky enough to not be under a staggering amount of debt from undergrad, but I still loathe the idea of taking out more loans, even if they’re small ones. Psychologically, it’s painful to go from spending 2+ years (post-graduation from Allegheny) making money to reverting back to taking out college loans.
Technically, this can all be resolved by faking my own death at the end of school. However, that plan seems somewhat complicated and leaves too much room for disaster, so I guess I’ll just have to pay my loans back. Maybe I’ll be done by the time I’m 40 (fingers crossed).
4. Committing to a 4-5 year program
That’s right, you read that correctly. 4-5 YEARS. Do you have any idea how old I’ll be by then?!? 29. 29 years old. 29 times around the sun. 4-5 years is such a long time to be (mostly) in one place, doing (mostly) the same thing. I know I’ll get to leave to do internships, plus I’ll be living in one of the greatest cities in this country, but still…
Commitment is terrifying.
5. Last but not least, Wife-hunters.
If this one doesn’t sound like it’s a legitimate fear, you’ve clearly never met a single Christian guy who is deadset on finding a wife. As fast as possible. Factor in that the guys at Seminary are future pastors (who feel enormous pressure to find a wife before settling down with a congregation), and you should start to feel this fear too. I find it vaguely disturbing that currently my #1 reason I would want to get married soon is so I don’t have to deal with Wife-hunters and their crazy antics. They’re frightening in their single-minded quest to find a Mrs. and start a family.
I’m not anti-marriage or anything, but I don’t think people should get married out of fear that they have to be married by a certain age or life stage. And they definitely shouldn’t be obsessed with finding a spouse. It’ll happen when it happens…there’s no use in wasting the best years of your life scheming various ways to hunt them down and convince them to marry you.
That rounds out my top 5 fears and I think they're pretty legit at this point. It's not like I'm going to let fear stop me from going to North Park - I just think it's better to get my anxiety out into the open so it's not eating at my mind or growing any bigger than it already is. Like any other feeling, fear will fade away. One day, I'm sure I'll look back on this time in my life and not remember why I ever felt any of those fears; they'll probably look ridiculous. That's alright, since there's a little bit of the ridiculous in everything. I just hope I can remember that after I've gone through Seminary.
That rounds out my top 5 fears and I think they're pretty legit at this point. It's not like I'm going to let fear stop me from going to North Park - I just think it's better to get my anxiety out into the open so it's not eating at my mind or growing any bigger than it already is. Like any other feeling, fear will fade away. One day, I'm sure I'll look back on this time in my life and not remember why I ever felt any of those fears; they'll probably look ridiculous. That's alright, since there's a little bit of the ridiculous in everything. I just hope I can remember that after I've gone through Seminary.
7.15.2011
summertime in jimmytown
It’s a Friday in July.
Fridays are always lovely, but they become even more amazing once summer hits. Sitting inside an office on a sunny Friday afternoon isn’t the word-for-word Webster’s Dictionary definition for purgatory, but I’d argue it’s pretty close. I keep needlessly volunteering myself to run errands for people in my office that need to be done in downtown Jtown, just to get outside for ten minutes. That plan worked twice today, and I kept trying to make up other errands I could do. Volunteering to walk to Mayville yesterday to pick up paperwork we’re waiting for didn’t work out, strangely enough. (Maybe next week?)
I’m always surprised by how great summers are around here. Not saying the weather’s always perfect - this is still western NY after all - but summers can be incredible. The temperature usually tops off around high 70s/low 80s and we actually see the sun most days. This summer’s been beautiful so far.
According to the calendar, it hasn’t been summer for even a month yet. My calculations are kind of, well, we’ll just call them different. As in, it’s summer once it feels like summer. So I’m thinking it’s been summer since the start of June, once the persistent spring rains finally stopped pummeling Chautauqua County every day. Therefore, it’s been summer for a month and a half.
This summer’s definitely been different. And packed. I’ve spent a week in Pittsburgh with kids from my youth group volunteering with the Pittsburgh Project. [You should do it too! This ministry’s fantastic and has brought tremendous change in some neighborhoods in Pittsburgh.] I went to Cleveland to watch the Yankees play on the Fourth. [Pathetic loss to the Indians. At least the fireworks after the game were good.] I’ve done a bunch of the classic summer-on-the-lake things: sailing, kayaking, bonfires, wedding crashing, finding every excuse under the sun to go out for ice cream, the usual.
Oh, and I end up at camp the rest of the time. Surprising, I know.
Somewhere in the midst of all that I’ve managed to sleep a little, but I can’t remember when.
I think we all tell ourselves that summer will be a time when we'll relax, only do the things we absolutely must do, and let life slow down. That's not my reality at all. The truth is, I let all the boring-unfun-mundane-blech things that I never really wanted to do in the first place fade out in the summer, and I fill up all that open time with fun stuff. I've known this for a while, but I'm not very good at turning down an invite to go do something fun, so I've ended up filling every spare second with something this summer.
Until this week. I've actually managed to reign myself in this week and be intentionally anti-social a couple of days. Example: I turned down an invitation to go out to Wing City last night so I could stay home and read. Win! I went on a couple walks with Jesus (that may sound a little odd, but I pray better when I move). I went to bed before midnight.
Now that I'm all rested up and re-centered, I'll probably jump right back into my crazy schedule, but what else is summer for?! I'll sleep again once autumn hits.
6.16.2011
where's the off button?
I find myself with an unexpected block of time in which I’m free to simply sit and think. This doesn’t happen all that often, and my mind is uncertainly fumbling around with this agenda-less, purpose-less window of time.
I’ve discovered that I have somewhat taken on my mom’s habit of chronically doing things at all times – I say ‘somewhat’ because I am (thank goodness) still able to at least sit down and enjoy watching a movie in a completely relaxed, reclined position.. whereas my mom inevitably finds some project to work on whenever she sits down to “watch” a movie. Five minutes into a movie, she’s baked 8 dozen cupcakes and sewed a quilt.
Anyways, as I sit here with the freedom to let my mind wander off to do whatever it wants or go wherever it will go, I am distinctly aware of how much my brain has been trained to focus, to produce something, to not just sit in idleness. (Hence…the creation of this blog.) The concept of a blank mind discomforts me. Clearing my head so it has no direction, no pursuit of anything, no aim – even for a little while – seems not only pointless, but almost alien to my nature.
However, it makes me wonder. I question why I function this way. Is this merely how I was created? Is this how I’m supposed to be, always letting my mind roll, move, and turn things over? Or maybe this is a symptom of how my environment’s affected me. Does living in America often do this to a person – the land of productivity, efficiency, innovation, workaholics, the American Dream of single-mindedly reaching for more and more and more…?
Most of my blogs have ended with some attempt at answering questions or probing for a deeper understanding of whatever I’m experiencing. After all, that’s how we’re taught to write – you pick a topic or make an argument, then meld it to fit into the format of an introduction, body paragraphs, and a conclusion. (I’m doing it right this moment.)
Only, this time my ‘conclusion’ doesn’t really have any answers in it. No thrust of an argument, no hypothesis, no sweeping statement of why this is this or that is that. I’m just curious as to why my brain is always twisting and turning, constantly restless, forever reaching toward something or another. Why I can’t naturally grasp or embrace a deep sense of stillness and be OK with a mind that’s not in motion. Even when I pray, there’s no prolonged period of quietness or waiting for something; I’m continually seeking something out.
This isn’t to say I’m never a peace with things – I often am – but I just haven’t learned how to let my mind rest without an agenda, a goal, an inquiry. I have this hunch that there’s extraordinary value in the ability to sit and let things wash over you, instead of eternally chasing our waves of thought back and forth. I’m just not sure how to do it yet.
6.10.2011
on letting go
The last year or two of this pseudo-grownup life has taught me plenty of lessons. I haven't been especially well-prepared for any of them, but I have managed to survive them all so far (keep your fingers crossed for me).
Recently, due to a variety of circumstances in (or surrounding) my life, I have been forced to deal with the tragic necessity of letting go. This lesson has included several different forms of letting go - there are many forms of moving on that we may have to face - specifically letting go of an era in my life that is passing, moving on from a role that shaped a big part of my identity for some time now, and witnessing friends who have to let go of important relationships.
Letting go is one of those exercises in life that we all abhor on different levels. It's not just change that frightens us, or simply an aversion to losing something or someone; it's the fear that when we move on from something (especially something we love), we are letting of a thing that is essential. We are afraid we may somehow become less than who we were previously, or that an irreplaceable element of our life has been forfeited forever. We anxiously wonder if we'll ever be able to find something or someone as good as, or better than, what we have left behind. To put it simply, we worry we cannot reach that level of happiness and contentedness we had before. [Sidenote: is contentedness a word? I feel like it should be, if it isn't.]
Honestly, the biggest part of this lesson so far has been that you don't always get the answers you want when you are being compelled to move on. As humans, we're kind of.. limited, to put it kindly.. when it comes to the hard questions we face when we have to let go. Why did they have to die now? Why do we have to move? Why don't they love me anymore? Why can't I work here longer? Why can't I stay in college forever and ever and ever...?
Seriously - who can answer this kind of question? [The staying in college question is the only one that may be answerable.]
There is so much we want to understand that we cannot fully grasp. Underlying all our cries for answers, however, there is one question that supercedes them all, one that touches the root of our real inquiry:
Why am I powerless to stop this?
That's the bitter root of the 'letting go' dilemma. We want so desperately to run the show that is our lives, and we cry foul if it starts to twist towards a different direction. We kick and we scream and we hurt - we hurt so much - because we're powerless to stop our life from changing course. We reach back and grasp for what we had, what's slipping away, and we won't let go until the pain of reaching back has exceeded the pain of moving forward.
Taking a step back and looking at this, I see it's a pretty bleak picture I've just painted. Well, letting go is pretty bleak sometimes. There's no point in sugar-coating it or pretending it's something that it isn't.
There are two big factors, however, that I haven't mentioned yet; two key parts to this letting go struggle. The first one is God, who, if you know me well, you know we're kind of tight. He has answers to questions I haven't even asked yet.. and I ask a lot of questions. He also has the slight advantage of knowing where my life's going, so He doesn't freak out when I have to let go of something in order to move on. The second factor is a gift from God - Time.
That super cliche, over quoted phrase "time heals all things" is sort of spot on. Getting that distance from something or someone you loved, but had to let go of, will eventually dull the terrible pain you felt. Time can give you a kinder perspective on things, and it helps you realize that you will make it through. You will survive this moving on process. Better yet, it helps you see that one day soon - after just a little more time has passed - you will be genuinely happy again.
Recently, due to a variety of circumstances in (or surrounding) my life, I have been forced to deal with the tragic necessity of letting go. This lesson has included several different forms of letting go - there are many forms of moving on that we may have to face - specifically letting go of an era in my life that is passing, moving on from a role that shaped a big part of my identity for some time now, and witnessing friends who have to let go of important relationships.
Letting go is one of those exercises in life that we all abhor on different levels. It's not just change that frightens us, or simply an aversion to losing something or someone; it's the fear that when we move on from something (especially something we love), we are letting of a thing that is essential. We are afraid we may somehow become less than who we were previously, or that an irreplaceable element of our life has been forfeited forever. We anxiously wonder if we'll ever be able to find something or someone as good as, or better than, what we have left behind. To put it simply, we worry we cannot reach that level of happiness and contentedness we had before. [Sidenote: is contentedness a word? I feel like it should be, if it isn't.]
Honestly, the biggest part of this lesson so far has been that you don't always get the answers you want when you are being compelled to move on. As humans, we're kind of.. limited, to put it kindly.. when it comes to the hard questions we face when we have to let go. Why did they have to die now? Why do we have to move? Why don't they love me anymore? Why can't I work here longer? Why can't I stay in college forever and ever and ever...?
Seriously - who can answer this kind of question? [The staying in college question is the only one that may be answerable.]
There is so much we want to understand that we cannot fully grasp. Underlying all our cries for answers, however, there is one question that supercedes them all, one that touches the root of our real inquiry:
Why am I powerless to stop this?
That's the bitter root of the 'letting go' dilemma. We want so desperately to run the show that is our lives, and we cry foul if it starts to twist towards a different direction. We kick and we scream and we hurt - we hurt so much - because we're powerless to stop our life from changing course. We reach back and grasp for what we had, what's slipping away, and we won't let go until the pain of reaching back has exceeded the pain of moving forward.
Taking a step back and looking at this, I see it's a pretty bleak picture I've just painted. Well, letting go is pretty bleak sometimes. There's no point in sugar-coating it or pretending it's something that it isn't.
There are two big factors, however, that I haven't mentioned yet; two key parts to this letting go struggle. The first one is God, who, if you know me well, you know we're kind of tight. He has answers to questions I haven't even asked yet.. and I ask a lot of questions. He also has the slight advantage of knowing where my life's going, so He doesn't freak out when I have to let go of something in order to move on. The second factor is a gift from God - Time.
That super cliche, over quoted phrase "time heals all things" is sort of spot on. Getting that distance from something or someone you loved, but had to let go of, will eventually dull the terrible pain you felt. Time can give you a kinder perspective on things, and it helps you realize that you will make it through. You will survive this moving on process. Better yet, it helps you see that one day soon - after just a little more time has passed - you will be genuinely happy again.
5.26.2011
growing pains
If someone was to read through my blog, they might be left with the impression that i had (for the most part) successfully adjusted to a Grown-up's life.
In a lot of ways, I have definitely acclimated to this different life over the past two years. I don't see any benefit to dwelling in the past, longing for the way things were in college, or even before that. The only healthy option is to move on and keep my eyes wide open for the good parts in the newest chapter of my life - and there are a lot of good things.
This all sounds pretty reasonable so far, right?
Well..I recently hit a snag in this whole 'healthy, forward-moving, well-adjusted' attitude. The catalyst for this setback was last weekend.
For any of you who live around here, you'll know that last weekend was basically a quick taste of summer. The weather was beautiful, Memorial Day's a week away, and Chautauqua County is finally waking up after an eternally long winter and a sloppy, cold spring. I got to spend all sorts of time with my friends, go hiking in the gorge, lay out in the sun, and stay out much too late in Bemus.
And then Monday hit. It felt like I was abruptly clotheslined by the reality that not only was my two-day taste of summer over, but summer as I've know it for the last 23 summers does not apply to my life this year. For the first time, I will be working indoors this summer at an office job. What makes this a particularly bitter pill to swallow is that 4 out of my last 5 summers were spent at Camp Mission Meadows - which I have absolutely loved - and it's harder to let go of than I'd anticipated.
Now, I have to pause for a moment and run down another trail of thought. In order to give a balanced perspective on all this, I need to mention that I'm lucky enough to like my desk job. I've learned a ton over the past 7 months about both my hometown and the challenges faced by the most vulnerable and economically impoverished part of the population. I've discovered more of my own limitations, gifts, and how I want to help make an impact in this broken, crazy world during my rather short stay here.
Unfortunately, keeping a positive perspective (i.e. one in which I focus on the good things about my current situation, as opposed to what I'll miss about camp) has taken quite a blow as summer approaches. For the last few days, my mind's been wrapped around thoughts of Mission Meadows and all the people I will miss there. That place - more accurately, that ministry - has commandeered such a large part of my heart that as June approaches, it's starting to sting as I attempt to reconcile myself to not working there.
No matter how much I like my current job, working at camp blows most jobs out of the water. I love being outside, being active, living around a ton of people who just genuinely want to have a great time, take care of each other, and seek out God through everything. Over the years, I've seen so many people changed, built up, and restored by that ministry - and I know that's not something you can find just anywhere.
In the end, I know I'll be fine (I always am eventually). I'll still get to spend plenty of time at camp on evenings and weekends. Plus, I have a lot of other things to look forward to this summer, like watching the Yankees crush the Indians at Cleveland and spending a week in Pittsburgh. Beyond that, there are even some advantages to not working at camp. I'll have more control over my time and schedule. I won't drive myself to sheer exhaustion by the end of the summer. I can sleep in my own bed, eat what I want to eat; basically, I'll get to take better care of myself this summer.
Honestly, all those benefits I just listed sound rather hollow and substanceless right now, but I've simply got to keep my eyes trained on the positive stuff. Ultimately, everything comes to an end, including working at camp. I can either handle it with grace or get mired down in wistful nostalgia, it's my choice.
Lately, I haven't exactly felt like handling it gracefully...or with any kind of maturity. I hear this crazy voice (everyone hears that once in a while..right?) telling me to run as fast as I can to escape any commitment that's weighing down on me and just do what I want. It tries to tell me that I'm trading in my dreams and ideals for security and some "normal" life. It tells me that if my life isn't filled with adventures all the time, then I'm selling myself short of the life I actually want.
The problem with that crazy voice is that it only speaks up when I'm discontent. I know I'm not basing my decisions on simply what's safe, secure, stable, "normal," or anything resembling that. I'm not steering my life towards dreams of wealth, a 401k, a husband and 2 kids by age 30, the white picket fence/American dream that so many people (still!) think will completely fulfill and satisfy them. Since I'm not chasing all that, I think I sometimes forget that just because some elements of my life seem to fit into that stereotype (namely, having a 9-5 office job), it doesn't mean I'm selling out to the average middle class ideal and abandoning the very different sort of life I want.
That's more than enough thinking for today. I'll end by chalking this whole internal debate up into this: sometimes I'm at peace with where my life's at, sometimes I'm not. There are times I yearn to put some roots down and just be still for awhile, and times I want to break all ties and let the current sweep me away to something new. I know I'm not the only one who feels that way; I think pretty much everyone does. All I can do is accept that I'm a work in progress who has so much to learn and live through, and I'm pretty excited to see how this life turns out.
In a lot of ways, I have definitely acclimated to this different life over the past two years. I don't see any benefit to dwelling in the past, longing for the way things were in college, or even before that. The only healthy option is to move on and keep my eyes wide open for the good parts in the newest chapter of my life - and there are a lot of good things.
This all sounds pretty reasonable so far, right?
Well..I recently hit a snag in this whole 'healthy, forward-moving, well-adjusted' attitude. The catalyst for this setback was last weekend.
For any of you who live around here, you'll know that last weekend was basically a quick taste of summer. The weather was beautiful, Memorial Day's a week away, and Chautauqua County is finally waking up after an eternally long winter and a sloppy, cold spring. I got to spend all sorts of time with my friends, go hiking in the gorge, lay out in the sun, and stay out much too late in Bemus.
And then Monday hit. It felt like I was abruptly clotheslined by the reality that not only was my two-day taste of summer over, but summer as I've know it for the last 23 summers does not apply to my life this year. For the first time, I will be working indoors this summer at an office job. What makes this a particularly bitter pill to swallow is that 4 out of my last 5 summers were spent at Camp Mission Meadows - which I have absolutely loved - and it's harder to let go of than I'd anticipated.
Now, I have to pause for a moment and run down another trail of thought. In order to give a balanced perspective on all this, I need to mention that I'm lucky enough to like my desk job. I've learned a ton over the past 7 months about both my hometown and the challenges faced by the most vulnerable and economically impoverished part of the population. I've discovered more of my own limitations, gifts, and how I want to help make an impact in this broken, crazy world during my rather short stay here.
Unfortunately, keeping a positive perspective (i.e. one in which I focus on the good things about my current situation, as opposed to what I'll miss about camp) has taken quite a blow as summer approaches. For the last few days, my mind's been wrapped around thoughts of Mission Meadows and all the people I will miss there. That place - more accurately, that ministry - has commandeered such a large part of my heart that as June approaches, it's starting to sting as I attempt to reconcile myself to not working there.
No matter how much I like my current job, working at camp blows most jobs out of the water. I love being outside, being active, living around a ton of people who just genuinely want to have a great time, take care of each other, and seek out God through everything. Over the years, I've seen so many people changed, built up, and restored by that ministry - and I know that's not something you can find just anywhere.
In the end, I know I'll be fine (I always am eventually). I'll still get to spend plenty of time at camp on evenings and weekends. Plus, I have a lot of other things to look forward to this summer, like watching the Yankees crush the Indians at Cleveland and spending a week in Pittsburgh. Beyond that, there are even some advantages to not working at camp. I'll have more control over my time and schedule. I won't drive myself to sheer exhaustion by the end of the summer. I can sleep in my own bed, eat what I want to eat; basically, I'll get to take better care of myself this summer.
Honestly, all those benefits I just listed sound rather hollow and substanceless right now, but I've simply got to keep my eyes trained on the positive stuff. Ultimately, everything comes to an end, including working at camp. I can either handle it with grace or get mired down in wistful nostalgia, it's my choice.
Lately, I haven't exactly felt like handling it gracefully...or with any kind of maturity. I hear this crazy voice (everyone hears that once in a while..right?) telling me to run as fast as I can to escape any commitment that's weighing down on me and just do what I want. It tries to tell me that I'm trading in my dreams and ideals for security and some "normal" life. It tells me that if my life isn't filled with adventures all the time, then I'm selling myself short of the life I actually want.
The problem with that crazy voice is that it only speaks up when I'm discontent. I know I'm not basing my decisions on simply what's safe, secure, stable, "normal," or anything resembling that. I'm not steering my life towards dreams of wealth, a 401k, a husband and 2 kids by age 30, the white picket fence/American dream that so many people (still!) think will completely fulfill and satisfy them. Since I'm not chasing all that, I think I sometimes forget that just because some elements of my life seem to fit into that stereotype (namely, having a 9-5 office job), it doesn't mean I'm selling out to the average middle class ideal and abandoning the very different sort of life I want.
That's more than enough thinking for today. I'll end by chalking this whole internal debate up into this: sometimes I'm at peace with where my life's at, sometimes I'm not. There are times I yearn to put some roots down and just be still for awhile, and times I want to break all ties and let the current sweep me away to something new. I know I'm not the only one who feels that way; I think pretty much everyone does. All I can do is accept that I'm a work in progress who has so much to learn and live through, and I'm pretty excited to see how this life turns out.
4.13.2011
quarter life crisis time
"Youth is not a period of time. It is a state of mind, a result of the will, a quality of the imagination, a victory of courage over timidity, of the taste for adventure over the love of comfort. A man doesn't grow old because he has lived a certain number of years. A man grows old when he deserts his ideal. The years may wrinkle his skin, but deserting his ideal wrinkles his soul. Preocupations, fears, doubts, and despair are the enemies which slowly bow us toward earth and turn us into dust before death. You will remain young as long as you are open to what is beautiful, good, and great; receptive to the messages of other men and women, of nature and of God. If one day you should become bitter, pessimistic, and gnawed by despair, may God have mercy on your old man's soul."
-General Douglas MacArthur, as cited in The Ragamuffin Gospel [Brennan Manning] p. 186
Lately, a few of my friends in their mid-20s have been experiencing what I refer to as a quarter life crisis. They've finally acknowledged to themselves that they're not exactly happy with their current jobs and/or circumstances, and that life post-college isn't heading in a direction they had dreamed of.
They're approaching a soul-searching crossroads, facing the choice between continuing on their currently uninspired path of comfort/safety/security/predictability/stability or veering off onto a trail of risk/adventure/transition/dream-chasing.
Should a person stick with the familiar, dependable, well-paying job they can tolerate but never love, or should they cut themselves (terrifyingly) loose so they can run after the job or life they've been yearning for?
That's the question at the heart of the quarter life crisis. For most college-educated people in their low and mid 20s, they honestly don't have to make many huge, gut-wrenching choices until they're finally out of school. Although college offers some freedoms, everyone's still integrated into a structure on many levels. The rubber doesn't meet the road until the structure disappears in the rear-view mirror and the vast, incomprehensible world is above, beside and before you.
What do you do? Do you keep seeking structure, stability, predictability, or do you cast all that off in the pursuit of something new and uncharted?
Since my unofficial goal is (and always will be) to be a pirate captain, I'm pretty consistent on how I advise these friends-in-crisis. I honestly don't believe I could be satisfied (long-term) with a job or career that didn't light a spark in me. I'm aware that not every job is going to be the most-perfect-amazing-inspiring-rewarding-fireworks-all-the-time job. It's inevitable that there are times when you just have to suck it up and slog through the murky swamp you're in, but I think you can choose to keep your chin up through it all and keep moving toward the deep, clear river you've been dreaming of your whole life.
I know my way of thinking about all this isn't the only way. Some people genuinely seem just fine working at a job they're not in love with. They find other areas in their life where they can pursue what they want, what makes them happy, what fills them up. That's great, for them. Then there are some people who will never be able to reconcile themselves to settling down and choosing security and stability over what they really want to do, however elusive and impossible that may seem to be. So they face a quarter life crisis - and in the long run, I think that's a good thing.
A crisis reveals what lies within you, what your strengths, fears, insecurities, and priorities are. A crisis shakes you up, spins you around, and knocks off all the insincere surface stuff you hid behind before. When it's over, you may be a little breathless and a bit humbled, but you certainly know yourself more than you ever did before.
-General Douglas MacArthur, as cited in The Ragamuffin Gospel [Brennan Manning] p. 186
Lately, a few of my friends in their mid-20s have been experiencing what I refer to as a quarter life crisis. They've finally acknowledged to themselves that they're not exactly happy with their current jobs and/or circumstances, and that life post-college isn't heading in a direction they had dreamed of.
They're approaching a soul-searching crossroads, facing the choice between continuing on their currently uninspired path of comfort/safety/security/predictability/stability or veering off onto a trail of risk/adventure/transition/dream-chasing.
Should a person stick with the familiar, dependable, well-paying job they can tolerate but never love, or should they cut themselves (terrifyingly) loose so they can run after the job or life they've been yearning for?
That's the question at the heart of the quarter life crisis. For most college-educated people in their low and mid 20s, they honestly don't have to make many huge, gut-wrenching choices until they're finally out of school. Although college offers some freedoms, everyone's still integrated into a structure on many levels. The rubber doesn't meet the road until the structure disappears in the rear-view mirror and the vast, incomprehensible world is above, beside and before you.
What do you do? Do you keep seeking structure, stability, predictability, or do you cast all that off in the pursuit of something new and uncharted?
Since my unofficial goal is (and always will be) to be a pirate captain, I'm pretty consistent on how I advise these friends-in-crisis. I honestly don't believe I could be satisfied (long-term) with a job or career that didn't light a spark in me. I'm aware that not every job is going to be the most-perfect-amazing-inspiring-rewarding-fireworks-all-the-time job. It's inevitable that there are times when you just have to suck it up and slog through the murky swamp you're in, but I think you can choose to keep your chin up through it all and keep moving toward the deep, clear river you've been dreaming of your whole life.
I know my way of thinking about all this isn't the only way. Some people genuinely seem just fine working at a job they're not in love with. They find other areas in their life where they can pursue what they want, what makes them happy, what fills them up. That's great, for them. Then there are some people who will never be able to reconcile themselves to settling down and choosing security and stability over what they really want to do, however elusive and impossible that may seem to be. So they face a quarter life crisis - and in the long run, I think that's a good thing.
A crisis reveals what lies within you, what your strengths, fears, insecurities, and priorities are. A crisis shakes you up, spins you around, and knocks off all the insincere surface stuff you hid behind before. When it's over, you may be a little breathless and a bit humbled, but you certainly know yourself more than you ever did before.
3.31.2011
the month with all the birthdays
March gets a lot of crap from a lot of people.
This is the month when winter and spring are seamlessly interchangeable, flipping back and forth without a bit of effort or warning.
Most everyone complains endlessly when winter dares to show its face, and they all threaten to pack their bags and move to Florida.
Fine. Move. [I'm not sure who's stopping you..] Join the mad rush of snowbirds from New York who transplant themselves to an over-populated, over-comercialized state that has two seasons a year - summer and quasi summer - if that's your thing.
[Sidenote: for all you offended Floridaphiles, I don't despise your entire state. I'm dying to visit Harry Potter World, and there are a few places I've visited in FL that I'd even go so far to say that I'd visit again.]
This point is, if you can't stomach New York's weather, March is often the month that breaks you. All the ups and downs in the weather can drive a person to madness. On a more positive note, if you can survive the Land of the Endless Winters, you end up with crazy amounts of endurance.
For the most part, I really don't hate March as passionately as everyone else. My birthday happens to be on March 8, so I've always associated this time of year with cake (good), presents (even better), and parties (the best!).
Sure, the weather's screwed up some of my birthday plans in the past, but I'm almost positive I wasn't permanently traumatized. When I turned 5, a blizzard either postponed or cancelled my birthday party. I survived. On my 21st birthday, it blizzarded again. However, you don't postpone or cancel a 21st birthday celebration. You just make sure the designated drivers are good winter weather drivers, and out you go.
I turned 24 this year. I mean 22. Either way, it was great. I celebrated for an entire week, ate ridiculous amounts of cake, avoided the gym like the plague, and even got to open some presents (even though I'm a Grown-Up). My favorite presents? They were from Kiah, Anneli's 10 yr old sister. She picked out bunny ears, a balloon, and some rose-shaped lollipops. What 24..or 22..year old wouldn't want that for their birthday? Exactly.
Within the 2 weeks after my birthday, I got to celebrate 4 1/2 other birthdays as well with friends in the area! [The 1/2 birthday belongs to my roommate Laura, who was successfully peer pressured into pretending her birthday was in March like the rest of us.]
With all those birthdays going on, who can waste time worrying about the weather? Not me. If you don't like the weather today, relax. It'll be different tomorrow.
This is the month when winter and spring are seamlessly interchangeable, flipping back and forth without a bit of effort or warning.
Most everyone complains endlessly when winter dares to show its face, and they all threaten to pack their bags and move to Florida.
Fine. Move. [I'm not sure who's stopping you..] Join the mad rush of snowbirds from New York who transplant themselves to an over-populated, over-comercialized state that has two seasons a year - summer and quasi summer - if that's your thing.
[Sidenote: for all you offended Floridaphiles, I don't despise your entire state. I'm dying to visit Harry Potter World, and there are a few places I've visited in FL that I'd even go so far to say that I'd visit again.]
This point is, if you can't stomach New York's weather, March is often the month that breaks you. All the ups and downs in the weather can drive a person to madness. On a more positive note, if you can survive the Land of the Endless Winters, you end up with crazy amounts of endurance.
For the most part, I really don't hate March as passionately as everyone else. My birthday happens to be on March 8, so I've always associated this time of year with cake (good), presents (even better), and parties (the best!).
Sure, the weather's screwed up some of my birthday plans in the past, but I'm almost positive I wasn't permanently traumatized. When I turned 5, a blizzard either postponed or cancelled my birthday party. I survived. On my 21st birthday, it blizzarded again. However, you don't postpone or cancel a 21st birthday celebration. You just make sure the designated drivers are good winter weather drivers, and out you go.
I turned 24 this year. I mean 22. Either way, it was great. I celebrated for an entire week, ate ridiculous amounts of cake, avoided the gym like the plague, and even got to open some presents (even though I'm a Grown-Up). My favorite presents? They were from Kiah, Anneli's 10 yr old sister. She picked out bunny ears, a balloon, and some rose-shaped lollipops. What 24..or 22..year old wouldn't want that for their birthday? Exactly.
Within the 2 weeks after my birthday, I got to celebrate 4 1/2 other birthdays as well with friends in the area! [The 1/2 birthday belongs to my roommate Laura, who was successfully peer pressured into pretending her birthday was in March like the rest of us.]
With all those birthdays going on, who can waste time worrying about the weather? Not me. If you don't like the weather today, relax. It'll be different tomorrow.
2.22.2011
losing the peter pan complex
You're probably going to want to take a second to pause and take a deep breath.
Because I have something terrible to disclose in this blog post. Something I have been dreading for years is overtaking me, and I doubt that I can elude it any longer.
Lately, I've been rather suspicious that my life is approaching a watershed moment in which the Grown-up part of me overcomes the kid. Ever since graduating from Allegheny, I've been uder the impression that Grown-up Rachel was just this part I played whenever it was absolutely necessary. It was kind of like flipping a switch. Need to appear mature and make a good impression? Flick.
For most of the last year and a half, my life changed so drastically - and kept changing - that I viewed everything through a lens of curiousity and newness. Even when things got difficult or I lost my confidence, I still found consolation in the idea that I hardly even considered myself an adult. Being a kid and feeling inadequate or lost isn't nearly as frightening as being an adult with those feelings.
Children are allowed to feel that way. Adults are not. Not that I actually believe grown-ups can't feel confused or disoriented..there's just a voice in my head that tells me (in a firm voice) that is not acceptable for me. One of these days, I should really get around to telling that voice to shove it.
Anyways, that feeling of novelty and constant transition that colored my post-college life until the end of 2010 has faded. I've been working at my Americorps job for four months already. I've lived in this apartment for close to five months. My weekly schedule (more accurately, my Sunday-Thursday schedule) has been pretty much set for the last few months. Between helping out the youth group at church and going to the gym, or both, those nights are regularly filled.
The good thing is, I'm not bored with my life. I've realized that giving into a normal schedule doesn't mean things automatically get frustratingly dull. Days at my job are never the same; a better way of putting it is that we have no idea what crazy situations we'll deal with each day. Working with the youth group is certainly not boring either. Jr. and Sr. High kids are anything but predictable. Even my trips to the gym vary. Is running going to make me hate life tonight? Is today finally going to be the day I fall off the treadmill? (There have been some close calls. It's harder than it looks..)
Despite the fact I'm not bored with my schedule, I can't pretend my life hasn't fallen into a regular rhythm. The strange thing is, I've gradually come to accept it. The fact that I'm no longer paranoid about becoming a grown-up with a consistent schedule has brought me to an uncomfortable conclusion.
Whether or not I recognized it, my Grown-up(ness) has been passing right by my child(ness) for the last couple of months, and it's starting to feel pretty natural. My Peter Pan-like fear of growing up and accepting any fragment of stability has diminished without me even noticing.
Now, I have to make one thing clear. All this does not mean I'm abandoning my dream of living on a pirate ship and sailing all over the world with my friends. That will always be Plan A, obviously. But until that happens, I'm going to cautiously let Grown-up Rachel into my life a little bit at a time and see what happens.
In the meantime, keep an eye open for any ships, just in case this experiment doesn't exactly work out.
Because I have something terrible to disclose in this blog post. Something I have been dreading for years is overtaking me, and I doubt that I can elude it any longer.
Lately, I've been rather suspicious that my life is approaching a watershed moment in which the Grown-up part of me overcomes the kid. Ever since graduating from Allegheny, I've been uder the impression that Grown-up Rachel was just this part I played whenever it was absolutely necessary. It was kind of like flipping a switch. Need to appear mature and make a good impression? Flick.
For most of the last year and a half, my life changed so drastically - and kept changing - that I viewed everything through a lens of curiousity and newness. Even when things got difficult or I lost my confidence, I still found consolation in the idea that I hardly even considered myself an adult. Being a kid and feeling inadequate or lost isn't nearly as frightening as being an adult with those feelings.
Children are allowed to feel that way. Adults are not. Not that I actually believe grown-ups can't feel confused or disoriented..there's just a voice in my head that tells me (in a firm voice) that is not acceptable for me. One of these days, I should really get around to telling that voice to shove it.
Anyways, that feeling of novelty and constant transition that colored my post-college life until the end of 2010 has faded. I've been working at my Americorps job for four months already. I've lived in this apartment for close to five months. My weekly schedule (more accurately, my Sunday-Thursday schedule) has been pretty much set for the last few months. Between helping out the youth group at church and going to the gym, or both, those nights are regularly filled.
The good thing is, I'm not bored with my life. I've realized that giving into a normal schedule doesn't mean things automatically get frustratingly dull. Days at my job are never the same; a better way of putting it is that we have no idea what crazy situations we'll deal with each day. Working with the youth group is certainly not boring either. Jr. and Sr. High kids are anything but predictable. Even my trips to the gym vary. Is running going to make me hate life tonight? Is today finally going to be the day I fall off the treadmill? (There have been some close calls. It's harder than it looks..)
Despite the fact I'm not bored with my schedule, I can't pretend my life hasn't fallen into a regular rhythm. The strange thing is, I've gradually come to accept it. The fact that I'm no longer paranoid about becoming a grown-up with a consistent schedule has brought me to an uncomfortable conclusion.
Whether or not I recognized it, my Grown-up(ness) has been passing right by my child(ness) for the last couple of months, and it's starting to feel pretty natural. My Peter Pan-like fear of growing up and accepting any fragment of stability has diminished without me even noticing.
Now, I have to make one thing clear. All this does not mean I'm abandoning my dream of living on a pirate ship and sailing all over the world with my friends. That will always be Plan A, obviously. But until that happens, I'm going to cautiously let Grown-up Rachel into my life a little bit at a time and see what happens.
In the meantime, keep an eye open for any ships, just in case this experiment doesn't exactly work out.
1.30.2011
seeing past the grey
Glancing out the window, I see only shades of grey, white, and brown.
Considering it's late in the afternoon on a frigid day near the end of January in western New York, this observation probably doesn't stun most of you.
It's that lovely time of year when, rather predictably, almost everyone in this small (did I mention frigid yet?!) corner of the world is slowly sliding towards negativity and sheer dullness.
Too much greyness, you see, silently but effectively wears a person out. It's hard to notice it happening, unless you're watching carefully for it.
You begin to fray around the edges, unraveling a tiny bit at a time. Imperceptibly, tirelessly, it whittles away at your energy, your creativity, even your sense of wonder surrounding life and this wide, wide world.
Not coincidentally, I noticed a lot of articles pop up in magazines and on the internet about "how to be happy." At the same time - and this was an actual coincidence - I read a book that explored happiness and success, and it laid out a formula (or series of steps, I guess) explaining how a person can reach that state.
The underlying theme in all these readings is about how happiness (and success, I suppose, since they were grouped together by some of these self-help writers) is a choice. Simple as that. It's a conscious shift in perception in which you choose to focus on the positive, keep moving forward, and throw off all your baggage from the past.
To some degree, I can agree with that. I've seen people who consistently choose to be miserable and discontent, fixated on the negative and refusing to open their eyes to all the good that surrounds them. I've also witnessed people in awful circumstances who choose to see the best in their situation and continue clinging to those crazy sentiments of hope, contentedness, and joy.
But right now, in this place, it's so grey.
Can happiness truly be reduced to a simple choice? Going with this idea a little further, is depression just some weakness of the mind? This is where I don't buy the simplified theory that happiness is purely a choice. You see, there's a girl I know who has been diagnosed with depression. She's a wonderfully kind human being (much nicer than me); I could hardly imagine meeting anyone more thoughtful and generous. I struggle to believe she's made a choice to be unhappy.
Greyness - whether the physical grey I used to describe my environment in late January in western New York, or the greyness that descends on a person who's chronically falling into depression - doesn't seem to always respond to our "choice" to be happy or not. Yes, I think some people decide to be grumpy about anything and everything, while others stick with being unflappably optimistic, but sometimes, greyness just settles in for a long, unwelcome stay.
I've never experienced the greyness that settles into a person's soul, blocking out the joy and hope that belong there, but I'm guessing it's something like the endless grey sky I'm peering at outside. There's no end in any direction and little variation in the bland color that stretches over the snow-covered landscape, but there's one thing I'm certain of.
Somewhere behind that formidable grey expanse, there's a sun waiting to burst through.
Considering it's late in the afternoon on a frigid day near the end of January in western New York, this observation probably doesn't stun most of you.
It's that lovely time of year when, rather predictably, almost everyone in this small (did I mention frigid yet?!) corner of the world is slowly sliding towards negativity and sheer dullness.
Too much greyness, you see, silently but effectively wears a person out. It's hard to notice it happening, unless you're watching carefully for it.
You begin to fray around the edges, unraveling a tiny bit at a time. Imperceptibly, tirelessly, it whittles away at your energy, your creativity, even your sense of wonder surrounding life and this wide, wide world.
Not coincidentally, I noticed a lot of articles pop up in magazines and on the internet about "how to be happy." At the same time - and this was an actual coincidence - I read a book that explored happiness and success, and it laid out a formula (or series of steps, I guess) explaining how a person can reach that state.
The underlying theme in all these readings is about how happiness (and success, I suppose, since they were grouped together by some of these self-help writers) is a choice. Simple as that. It's a conscious shift in perception in which you choose to focus on the positive, keep moving forward, and throw off all your baggage from the past.
To some degree, I can agree with that. I've seen people who consistently choose to be miserable and discontent, fixated on the negative and refusing to open their eyes to all the good that surrounds them. I've also witnessed people in awful circumstances who choose to see the best in their situation and continue clinging to those crazy sentiments of hope, contentedness, and joy.
But right now, in this place, it's so grey.
Can happiness truly be reduced to a simple choice? Going with this idea a little further, is depression just some weakness of the mind? This is where I don't buy the simplified theory that happiness is purely a choice. You see, there's a girl I know who has been diagnosed with depression. She's a wonderfully kind human being (much nicer than me); I could hardly imagine meeting anyone more thoughtful and generous. I struggle to believe she's made a choice to be unhappy.
Greyness - whether the physical grey I used to describe my environment in late January in western New York, or the greyness that descends on a person who's chronically falling into depression - doesn't seem to always respond to our "choice" to be happy or not. Yes, I think some people decide to be grumpy about anything and everything, while others stick with being unflappably optimistic, but sometimes, greyness just settles in for a long, unwelcome stay.
I've never experienced the greyness that settles into a person's soul, blocking out the joy and hope that belong there, but I'm guessing it's something like the endless grey sky I'm peering at outside. There's no end in any direction and little variation in the bland color that stretches over the snow-covered landscape, but there's one thing I'm certain of.
Somewhere behind that formidable grey expanse, there's a sun waiting to burst through.
1.17.2011
me: 1, procrastination: 0 (for today, at least)
Procrastination is one of my oldest and most faithful friends. It's followed me from birth right up to this very day. It's a strange friend, since it's appearance constantly shifts. The most common, and therefore dull, form is facebook. (Anyone with internet access could tell you that.) That form leaves you feeling empty, bored, and vaguely confused about how you ended up on your best friend's cousin's boyfriend's former roommate's brother's facebook page. Don't even try and deny that hasn't happened to you.
There are certainly more positive forms that Procrastination can take. For instance, sometimes I manage to get other work done (not the work that's the priority though, of course). Avoiding whatever it is that I need to do often results in me cleaning, reading, cooking, organizing, exercising...which are all good for me in the long run.
One of my favorite forms of Procrastination is looking back into the past. I'm hopelessly nostalgic, and I love to look at old pictures and read old journals and letters. Life is so much easier to comprehend when you look back on it - as opposed to whatever opaque, complex situation you might find yourself in at the present.
Anyway, my dear old friend Procrastination came around this weekend. I have been "working on" my applications to North Park's Seminary and Business School for about five months now, and was determined to finish them off this weekend. I pulled both applications out yesterday to check what still needed to be completed and if anything needed some final editing. My Seminary application was done and I was satisfied with it, but I still needed to finish the essay for the Business school application. I decided to get that done by tonight.
Well, after going out to coffee with friends, then going to the gym (for the record, I dearly love BOTH those forms of procrastination), I sat down at my computer.
And I thought about blogging.
That's right. This very blog almost became the next form of Procrastination. Luckily, I couldn't settle on what I should write about, so I finally gave in and finished my essay.
Take that, Procrastination. Don't feel too bad; you win every morning when it's time to get out of bed, so you'll be taking me down in about 7 1/2 hours.
There are certainly more positive forms that Procrastination can take. For instance, sometimes I manage to get other work done (not the work that's the priority though, of course). Avoiding whatever it is that I need to do often results in me cleaning, reading, cooking, organizing, exercising...which are all good for me in the long run.
One of my favorite forms of Procrastination is looking back into the past. I'm hopelessly nostalgic, and I love to look at old pictures and read old journals and letters. Life is so much easier to comprehend when you look back on it - as opposed to whatever opaque, complex situation you might find yourself in at the present.
Anyway, my dear old friend Procrastination came around this weekend. I have been "working on" my applications to North Park's Seminary and Business School for about five months now, and was determined to finish them off this weekend. I pulled both applications out yesterday to check what still needed to be completed and if anything needed some final editing. My Seminary application was done and I was satisfied with it, but I still needed to finish the essay for the Business school application. I decided to get that done by tonight.
Well, after going out to coffee with friends, then going to the gym (for the record, I dearly love BOTH those forms of procrastination), I sat down at my computer.
And I thought about blogging.
That's right. This very blog almost became the next form of Procrastination. Luckily, I couldn't settle on what I should write about, so I finally gave in and finished my essay.
Take that, Procrastination. Don't feel too bad; you win every morning when it's time to get out of bed, so you'll be taking me down in about 7 1/2 hours.
1.02.2011
maintaining sanity
Now that the whirlwind that was the last two weeks of my life has died down a bit, I can get back to this ridiculous blogging phase.
The last half of December was wonderfully filled up with people, trips, and parties (and a surprisingly small amount of time at work). It felt surreal. Carefree. Honestly though, it could have been a trainwreck.
The holidays have a two-sided reputation. They're either portrayed as this magical, sparkly time of family-bonding, cookie-eating, carol-singing, peace-on-earth-goodwill-towards-men utopia...or they're labeled as a pseudo-apocalypse in which the entire family is alternating between frantically popping pills, shopping, cooking, cleaning, and having meltdowns before the New Year even hits.
This year, I found a good balance between those two opposing circumstances. I somehow managed to both find the time to slow down and break from my ridiculously packed schedule and also have a great time with dozens of people I love and never get to see enough of. Ultimately, I was able to run around and have an amazing time without losing my head. Looking back, there's a few key things that made this balance work:
1. I prioritized my people.
To clarify..that doesn't mean that I went through and ranked all the people I could've seen, crossing ones off the list that I didn't feel like being around. However, I knew who I absolutely HAD to see and I made sure it happened. My parents got me all to themselves for an entire six days. And they didn't even get sick of me. Favorite child? Obviously..
2. I learned to say no!
This one's difficult. So many people to see in only a couple days....it's a mathmatical nightmare trying to figure out how to add hours to a day that's already full. Plus, I definitely stayed out past my grown-up bedtime pretty much every day last week. As New Years Eve approached and I started to figure out my plans, I realized that if I spent another night up until obscene hours of the morning, there was a good chance I'd die within the first week of January. I ended up turning down invitations to 3 parties and instead stayed in for the night with two of my best friends. Not a bad way to start off 2011:)
3. I stayed spontaneous.
As I'm sure I've said before, routines and schedules make me choke a little. I don't want to end up as an uptight, deadline-obsessed, always-color-in-the-lines-or-SO-HELP-ME-GOD kind of girl. Maybe I should eventually be on time for things. Maybe not. Either way, I let myself make plans on the go a lot over the holidays, such as last night. I started at Starbucks with a bunch of friends from camp, but Sarah, Sondra, and I ended up letting Todd convince us to go to the Flipside Cafe in Bemus. He challenged us to a round of Just Dance on the Wii...which I'd normally turn down...but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Todd ended up schooling us all.
4. I drank an unholy amount of caffeine.
If people try and tell you that caffeine's bad for you, tune them out. They clearly don't know what they're talking about. You can nod and smile if you'd like, but don't listen to all the lies pouring out of their mouth. The truth is, caffeine helps me every single day of my life. Especially during the holidays. All the sleep I never got was quickly and easily replaced by the multiple coffee drinks I consumed throughout the day.
The moral of the story is, if you follow these four steps next year, the holidays won't own you. In fact, you might even like them.
The last half of December was wonderfully filled up with people, trips, and parties (and a surprisingly small amount of time at work). It felt surreal. Carefree. Honestly though, it could have been a trainwreck.
The holidays have a two-sided reputation. They're either portrayed as this magical, sparkly time of family-bonding, cookie-eating, carol-singing, peace-on-earth-goodwill-towards-men utopia...or they're labeled as a pseudo-apocalypse in which the entire family is alternating between frantically popping pills, shopping, cooking, cleaning, and having meltdowns before the New Year even hits.
This year, I found a good balance between those two opposing circumstances. I somehow managed to both find the time to slow down and break from my ridiculously packed schedule and also have a great time with dozens of people I love and never get to see enough of. Ultimately, I was able to run around and have an amazing time without losing my head. Looking back, there's a few key things that made this balance work:
1. I prioritized my people.
To clarify..that doesn't mean that I went through and ranked all the people I could've seen, crossing ones off the list that I didn't feel like being around. However, I knew who I absolutely HAD to see and I made sure it happened. My parents got me all to themselves for an entire six days. And they didn't even get sick of me. Favorite child? Obviously..
2. I learned to say no!
This one's difficult. So many people to see in only a couple days....it's a mathmatical nightmare trying to figure out how to add hours to a day that's already full. Plus, I definitely stayed out past my grown-up bedtime pretty much every day last week. As New Years Eve approached and I started to figure out my plans, I realized that if I spent another night up until obscene hours of the morning, there was a good chance I'd die within the first week of January. I ended up turning down invitations to 3 parties and instead stayed in for the night with two of my best friends. Not a bad way to start off 2011:)
3. I stayed spontaneous.
As I'm sure I've said before, routines and schedules make me choke a little. I don't want to end up as an uptight, deadline-obsessed, always-color-in-the-lines-or-SO-HELP-ME-GOD kind of girl. Maybe I should eventually be on time for things. Maybe not. Either way, I let myself make plans on the go a lot over the holidays, such as last night. I started at Starbucks with a bunch of friends from camp, but Sarah, Sondra, and I ended up letting Todd convince us to go to the Flipside Cafe in Bemus. He challenged us to a round of Just Dance on the Wii...which I'd normally turn down...but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Todd ended up schooling us all.
4. I drank an unholy amount of caffeine.
If people try and tell you that caffeine's bad for you, tune them out. They clearly don't know what they're talking about. You can nod and smile if you'd like, but don't listen to all the lies pouring out of their mouth. The truth is, caffeine helps me every single day of my life. Especially during the holidays. All the sleep I never got was quickly and easily replaced by the multiple coffee drinks I consumed throughout the day.
The moral of the story is, if you follow these four steps next year, the holidays won't own you. In fact, you might even like them.
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