Day 31: Over time, I've become a bit of a

mild germophobe and hypochondriac.

That is, in my own way.    

         I'm not one of those people who goes to pieces when someone sneezes on them, or can't bear to shake hands with another person. I understand that we build up our immune system from exposure to germs, and I'm sure I get my recommended dosage just fine. It's more that I convince myself that something is hazardous, and then react. Maybe half a day after sharing something with someone who is sick, I will realize it, and mysteriously at that moment, my throat will start to feel a little funny. I use bleach wipes on the counter top so often that I'm probably breeding a new resistant bacteria by now. I'm not a hand sanitizer-addict, but I won't say 'no' if it's offered to me. My dentist tells me he's afraid that I'm going to wear the enamel off my teeth if I don't stop brushing so hard.  It's rare not to be a hypochondriac these days, if not a germophobe. This carries over into what I eat as well; there's a lot of questionable ingredients (like trans-fats) on many of the things we consume and I blame them for many of the prevalent health problems that didn't exist 50 years ago. As long as we're in the food category, I have a thing about sharing just about any kind of dairy... it bothers me, and I'm not exactly sure why. Another factor is that I tend to get grossed out at the behaviors of others, but in fairly specific ways; for example, I have to look away when someone is picking their teeth (I'll stop now before I get nauseous). I freak out if my pillow touches the floor, and I avoid anything touching my face at all costs. I never used to be this way... I would eat things off the floor and not think twice about it, and I didn't consider all of the places that bacteria might be lurking. I think the fact that I rarely get sick is due to my over-cautious behavior, as neurotic as it may seem to my friends and family. Let's get one thing straight: I exercise my germ-cautions in a moderately quiet way... like using my foot to flush public toilets. Call this behavior insane if you will, but cleanliness is far better than the alternative, and you know it. 

      Purity is natural. We come into this world with all the right instincts. We are innocent, and therefore perceive things as they should be, rather than how they are. Our conscience is clear, our hands are clean, and the world at large is truly beautiful.

      I can't claim these words to be my own, but I can tell you that I feel like they've been what I've been trying to attain all along, and I try to live by them. Something that I have realized through this project and the professions I've made is that I have been continually striving to be pure in whatever sense of the word that I can. I don't mean that I'm trying to be 'perfect' or that I'm an incessant neat-freak, but moreso that I want the simple things out of life; the undecorated and wholesome things. This could vary from what I consume, to what I believe, and the words that I choose to come out of my mouth. So in a way... all of this germophobe business is more about awareness than anything. If you are aware that there's bad stuff out there, and desire to make a conscious effort to avoid it, no one should really ever blame you for trying.  

I just want what's real.  

Day 30: I find it terribly backwards;

the way we end up treating each other, sometimes.

Nice to strangers; cruelest to those we love and need most.

          Of course, not all of the time. But I know that often, I exercise a whole lot more patience, benefit of the doubt, and unconditional kindness to people that I barely know. Why is this? Be honest with yourself; it's easy to lash out at your closest friend or family member because you take for granted that they will forgive you. With a stranger, you don't want them to think you're insane, and so you only reveal yourself at your best. Yet, the people closest to us see us at our best and our worst, and somehow still love us. We can be so terrible to each other, and inevitably look past it at the end of the day and forgive. It's quite a miracle, and it happens over and over again. The way that humans interact on an emotional level fascinates me to no end and I think about it often. Therefore, I can't write this post without mentioning my family, because they're the only one I'm ever going to get, and that's the way it should be.

          I need to be honest here; I didn't always feel this way. I definitely loved my parents and sisters from an early age, (so much, that I told my parents I was going to live in their house 'forever!'). But middle school and teen angst happened in the middle there... I'll be frank, I was everything short of mean for a long string of years. I wouldn't smile, and I wouldn't make conversation. There was nothing anyone could have done to avoid this; I was so self-centered and unwilling to open up because I just wanted my space. Pretty typical for a teenage girl who didn't know how to handle herself, but I still regret acting so cold. No family is perfect, and it's unreasonable to expect to get along 100% of the time. Sometimes tension is what allows things to stray from being bland and meaningless. And with that said, I think any group of people living in close proximity will tend to get on each other's nerves eventually. It's a lesson for any relationship you have: no matter how much you love your significant other, or to what extent your best friend understands you, humans need to have time apart from each other. I'm not going to say that I have a 'perfect' relationship with my family now, but things have gotten exponentially better in time (at least in my mind), and I suspect this is a result of the space between us, as backwards as that sounds. All of this aside; my dad, my mom, and both of my sisters, are without a doubt the reasons of why I am the way I am. They have some of the best qualities that I look for in others, and I forget too often how blessed I am. Blessed, being an understatement. We'll start from the top:

My dad: is someone who I have come to identify with the older I get, in terms of my subconscious reactions and the way I interact with others. When I was little, I spent as much time as I could by his side for landscaping and woodworking projects. It was more than just observing; he really taught me how things worked and would let me help. As a direct result of this, I have high expectations for all men to be handy by default -- no one even comes close. My dad is resourceful, practical, punctual, and probably has the best sense of self-control out of anyone I know. 
My mom: will sacrifice so much without expecting anything in return. All she asks of me is kindness, and sometimes I take this for granted. My mom constantly gives me the benefit of the doubt in any situation, or anyone for that matter. She is always considering others, never boasts, and never talks about someone behind their back.  She has taught me so much about being a kind person, and I look up to everything she has achieved professionally.  
Katie: who goes by 'Kate', but will always be Katie to me, is level-headed and diligent, and yet so nurturing and pensive about a lot of things. Katie makes me laugh at the most unexpected of times when I need to hear it most, and will go out of her way to help me no matter how busy she already is. She's the one who got me in touch with my creative side; I started making collages when I was little simply because I wanted to be just like her. 
Megan: is my reminder that you can always keep trying no matter what happens. She is one of the strongest individuals I know; a chameleon in just about any situation and can get a smile out of anyone. She is the definition of a social butterfly and could likely talk herself out of anything because she has so much charm. Megan still sets me the baby fork when we have family dinners at home because she never got out of the habit. I think I would be disappointed if she did. 

I love my family, and I know they are probably embarrassed at me for posting this publicly... but you should know that you matter enough to me to be showed off. Thank you for being you. 

Day 29: It's amazing,

what our minds can convince us.

You start to wonder who's really in charge.

          I almost get to the point where I think of myself as invincible; that nothing can shake me, and that I am unbreakable. I can understand if this comes off insensitively, but the thought has crossed my mind that if I was ever diagnosed with a serious disease or illness, I would be able to rely on my mind to get me through it, and in a way, cure myself. It sounds crazy, I'm sure. But you never really think that you'll allow yourself to get to that point. So you think, If I get sick, I 'll just make myself better. If I'm feeling depressed, I'll just find a way to be happy. If I break something, it'll be fixed in no time. When it does happen, you can't remember how things used to be before that. In reality, things are never this simple, nor as black and white. Yet our mind can convince us of almost anything. Sometimes, this is to our advantage. We can convince ourselves that we don't have stage fright, we aren't feeling under the weather, we aren't overwhelmed, and we aren't scared. Other times, we convince ourselves to our disadvantage; we aren't in denial, we don't have an issue, and we certainly don't care.

        It's easy to read into things, and to perceive reality in an exaggerated way. In the end, we will allow ourselves to believe whatever we want to believe. We legitimize feeling a certain way or having a certain opinion because it feels strange not to have an answer for everything. Sometimes, we don't even care if it's right or wrong; we just need to label something for our own comfort and sanity. There is no room in our minds for unfinished, incompleteness... so we fill in the gaps and blanks on our own, and are satisfied with whatever we can come up with.  

You see what you want to see.

Day 28: It's been too long

since I've gotten lost.

The good way, that is.

          Lost in a book. Lost in thought. Lost on the road when you have nowhere to be. Lost a game because you wanted someone else to win. Lost on what to say next. Just, ...lost.
          Life is not very exciting when you are always trying to be a step ahead, and constantly predicting what will happen next, the way I do. I forget that, sometimes, its good to be lost.  I spend almost every day caught up in a robotic progression of routines. Do this, and don't forget that. Do it in the same order as every day, as fast as you can, because there's no time. I can tell that it's high time to stop and smell the roses; it bothers me to be so habitual that I forget to pay attention to the things that would make my day, if only I noticed them. 
        Yesterday, while scouting out sites to take my photo of the day, I started to think about how different each day is. Besides being assigned to a different name and number, how differently can you distinguish one day from the other, really? We likely have changes in our personal schedule for each day, but other than that, would you really be able to wake up and know what day it was if you hadn't been keeping track? Then I thought about it in a bigger spectrum. Let's take away the human aspect, because all of us lead different lives and what's true for one person isn't necessarily true for another. I looked down at my feet and saw the ground beneath me, and I realized that it was the one true indication of difference; natural, pure, undecorated earth. If I went back to that same place today, the surroundings may look familiar, but something would be different. So much could have happened since I was last there; maybe the wind shuffled the bits of dirt around a bit. Maybe someone, or something, stood in the exact same place and matted the grass down. Maybe a bird dug around for something to eat. The reason why sometimes we feel like the days 'drag on' is because we're looking too close to be able to see everything else that's happening. We're only looking at ourselves, really. Take a few steps back, as many as you'd like, and you'll find something to make your day less bane and pale. There's a lot happening out there, and sometimes you have to get out there and find it if it's not knocking on your front door.    

Tomorrow can be as different as you want it to be.

Day 27: I'm going to be perfectly honest,

I can be one of those 'punks' who thinks the rules don't apply from time to time.

Sometimes, what is 'allowed' feels too structured and withholding.

          I occasionally do things simply because I want to.... until (if) I get caught, at which time I am bitter towards authority and usually regret it, but only because I got caught. It has nothing to do with rebellion or 'sticking it to the man'--- nothing like that. I'm sorry if this offends anyone or changes your opinion of me; its not like I go looking for trouble, ready to wreak havoc on whatever I can find. For the record, I find destructive behavior to be insolent and obnoxious. I don't get my kicks from ruining something or breaking the rules for attention. In fact, that kind of thing usually just upsets me. Furthermore, I don't approach every situation with this paradigm, either. There are just some things that seem to be 'off-limits' for no good reason, and thats what I have a problem with. Personally, I see a disconnect between ethics and laws, and perhaps this is where the problem lies with my conscience about this sort of thing. If I'm cautious and considerate, acting on my own behalf, and not hurting anyone, I really fail to see the point of prohibiting or forbidding something. Regardless of how salt-of-the-earth you think you are, I think everyone has felt this way from time to time. 

         Yes, I understand that when one person goes against a rule, law, policy, etc., it is very different from having a large amount of people do the same. I have always had a slight distrust for police and authority figures in general, and also a keen paranoia when going through security and metal detectors. I don't even have a tangible reason to feel this way; it's not like I carry heat around with me, nor am I a stealthy shoplifter. I've felt it for as long as I can remember, again, without any real reason. In a lot of ways, I distrust someone 'in charge' because I ignorantly assume they are corrupt in some way, or that they want to see someone else fail and be reprimanded. Everyone seems to love a bit of power, and they walk a fine line between exercising it and abusing it. 'Rules' have their place in society; I'm not suggesting anarchy or anything of the sort. I respect a lot of rules that I believe in and see the necessity for their implementation. But perhaps, I am just alluding to the need for more trust and confidence in the common citizen. Most of us aren't all that bad. I really hope that no one misunderstands where I am coming from; I am not an irresponsible or untrustworthy person. I'm not even saying that I am right about this, or that everyone should agree. Simply, I feel that there is a lot of unnecessary restraint on society and I question the motives of putting so many boundaries up.     

We're all a little bit criminal; don't kid yourself.

Day 26: This may go without saying, but

every person you have ever met should matter.

How you feel about them is irrelevant.

          I get in these moods where I think about the past and the people I was once close to, and wonder how things changed to make them what they are today. I don't necessarily have a positive or negative feeling about it, I just find it so interesting to see how my life has diverged in terms of the relationships I've had. You never think that things will be different shortly in the future, but then you look back and realize that you are not the same person you once were. We are so dynamic in that way; at least, I feel I am. I remember the strong opinions and feelings that I had as a 17-year-old, and believing that I would always feel that way. Some things have stayed with me, but a lot has shifted as a result of learning more about myself and the way that things actually are in the world. I find myself thinking about people I may have hurt in the past, regardless of how minor or major it was from my perspective. I worry that people hold things against to me to this day, even though by nature I tend put a lot of effort into resolving any sort of discontent. I am nowhere near perfect; I have burned a few bridges in my 21 years and am definitely not proud of any of it. The honest truth is that I tend to look at things too subjectively and end up taking everything too personally. Though, when I think about most of the people I used to be close to and aren't anymore (simply through the progression of life's many chapters), there's usually not a clear reason why we ever drifted. It makes me want to reach out to them and see how they are doing, just because. A lot of people find this to be a waste of time and emotions. To a certain extent, I'm not sure I agree. There's a reason why we once spent time with these people... they likely had qualities that we found to be a good addition to our outside influence. Relationships are what define who we are in a lot of ways. Our families, friends, coworkers, peers.... everyone. We are more influenced than we realize, and I think this lends itself to how we treat others. A small act of kindness can have major repercussions to somewhat of an untraceable extent. The way you treat someone, friend or foe, and the words you choose to say to them, will influence their attitude and will henceforth influence how they treat the next person, and so on. So why does everyone feel like they can't approach one another? Stop the silence. You'll never know when someone needs it most. 

Let no acquaintance be a wasted one.

Day 25: It's the difference

between having an idea, and making something out of it.

Thinking about it isn't enough sometimes.

          Let's dive right in: Hobbies are important, and here's why. I don't mean to sound like a high school advisor who urges you to 'get involved' for the sake of making friends, but we meet people, we learn from them, and we gain lot in terms of our personal inventory, too.  Hobbies are important because it puts our mind to use out of context of what we already know. When something in our life lets us down or discontinues, hobbies are what we turn to; that reliable thing you love to do, and that you do well. Without passion, talent is wasted. So not only are we good at it, and also enjoy it, we make a contribution to an end result. That's what any hobby is; progress towards an end result.  

        Many times, we learn the tricks of the trade from someone else. I've had my sights set on getting better at a few things for awhile. Want to hear them? Good. The first is to learn to be a better cook. I'm not looking to make the most complicated recipe or win awards, but I want to be able to create a meal from start to finish. In this day and age, it means a lot to be able to say that you made something that didn't come from a can, a box, a mix, or the frozen food section. I have this expectation that I will wake up one day and be as good of a cook as my mom, or as good of a baker as my grandma was... but this is just wishful thinking at the rate I'm going. I'm not culinary-illiterate, but my current lifestyle hasn't allowed too much free time to start experimenting in the kitchen. 
        My second aspiration is to become (at the very least) an intermediate sewer. Call it outdated, if you must. It's not as easy as it looks, by any means. I received a sewing machine for Christmas and, with the help of my mother, am close to finishing my first garment. This desire to sew is undoubtedly with intent to further abandon the jaded size definitions of the clothing industry. It also comes back to the idea of having an end result: being proud of something that is one-of-a-kind and made by yours truly.
       Last, (and least, to be honest) is my desire to exercise on a regular basis. By regular, I just mean that it shouldn't go in intermittent droughts like I typically allow. Don't get me wrong; I am probably the farthest thing from a lazy couch potato. Its rare that I'm not power-walking from A to B on any given day like a busy bee. This afternoon, I went for a run for the first time since January. I am by no means a superstar athlete, but I won't deny that it felt great to get out and move again. I really envy those of you out there who adhere to a structured exercise regimen... but sadly, I am not like you. I occasionally feel the urge to go for a run, but usually this happens when I'm wired at 2am and can't sleep, or after I consume a rather greasy meal (how promising). My sole motivation to run today was solely with one thing in mind: the approaching beach season... 

        ....No, I'm totally joking. But it would be nice to get some meat on these twiggy things I call legs.   

Think : Do. 

Day 24: I'm beginning to question

 why we put so much emphasis on the future.

Its like being asked, Where do you see yourself in five years? from every angle.

          If you've stuck with me these past 24 days, I've made it pretty clear that I'm a creature of habit; but a creature of habit who wants to become more flexible. And I guess today's post isn't so much about that as it is about the big picture. I know that its good to set goals, trust me; I have mine and plan to see them through. I can accept that every choice we make has a consequence and that sometimes the smallest of actions can alter our lives. I get it all, really. It's just that... I've always had this feeling that something is going to happen to me that will prevent from having to make these alleged life-changing decisions, if that makes any sense at all. Something tells me that everything will work itself out, or that I won't even get the chance to make it so. (12-21-2012: just throwing it out there).
         For awhile, I really felt like I had... a guardian angel, of sorts (for lack of a better explanation, forgive me). All I can say is that there were a lot of 'almost-crises' happening one right after another and it didn't take long for me to notice. I'm talking about times when I really could have screwed things up for myself, but managed to avoid it at the last second. Mountain or molehill, I was aware that I had been dodging bullets, but I didn't really know why I was being spared. Then without warning, I noticed that my 'guardian angel' had given up on me; that I had been supported for too long and had it too easy. So I was forced to stand on my own two feet, face the music, and show what I was capable of. I really am not trying to sound cutesy at all here; in fact I have never told anyone what I believed was going on. Call it luck, karma, the Holy Spirit, juju, or whatever you want... something bigger was at work.
          Sometimes we are pressured to plan our future so excessively that we have lost sight of our present and end up setting the stakes too high for ourselves. I used to have a really negative view of this as a teenager; something along the lines of, "you can't be disappointed if you don't have expectations". The reality is, you won't get anywhere if you don't have expectations. For the first time in my life, I just want to throw caution to the wind to see if I can fly. The chances are not in my favor, but I'm not afraid... which is new, for me. I'm not afraid because I'm confident enough that I can pick up the pieces no matter what happens. I just want to do something for myself without any outward influence, and turn my back on these "plans" I have so desperately clung to. Plans will always be there. I can make plans in a snap. I'm not worried about plans.   

Don't rush today just to get to tomorrow. 

Day 23: You may have noticed

I have a little something on my chin.

If you haven't yet been introduced, meet my scar. Its been with me for twelve years.

          I remember it as vividly as if it had happened yesterday. It was July, sometime in the late afternoon. When I was nine years old, a friend and I were taking turns riding my bicycle down a steep gravel hill at the cemetery near my house. Those were the days when I wasn't really afraid of anything... mostly because I didn't think of all possible consequences. One of us would go down the hill, disappear from view when the road curved at the bottom, and pedal back up on the parallel street to give the other a turn. After each of us had gone a few times, I decided to pedal as fast as I possibly could. The trees on either side of me were whizzing past, barely recognizable. I saw a pothole approaching and did my best to swerve around it, but inadvertently found myself making contact with a large branch next to it. It all happened so fast: I flew over the handlebars with my arms in front of me in some feeble attempt to brace the fall. In less than a second I skidded front-first for a few feet on the loose gravel. I remember just laying there on my stomach in silence for a moment, taking in what just happened. Then, it hit me. The pain was excruciating; my chin was throbbing, and my chest and knees felt like someone had rubbed them with sandpaper. I started screaming, louder than I can ever remember. Apparently, a neighbor that was my sister's age heard, because all of a sudden he was there, and he scooped me up and started running with me in his arms to my house. I remember looking down and seeing blood making round splotches on the sidewalk below us, but I couldn't really tell where it was coming from.  

          After what seemed like a never-ending drive to the hospital, my dad fainting in the emergency room at the sight of me, and the nurses commenting on my multi-colored fingernails, I was released from the hospital sometime after midnight. The impact of my fall, paired with landing on my chin, had caused a hairline fracture in my jaw and my back molars to chip out. For the first time, I reached and touched my chin and felt the stitches, all seven of them. In addition, my chest and collarbones were covered in deep scratches, as well as my knees. If I remember correctly, the shirt I was wearing that day had holes in it from the abrasion of skidding. In the early recovery days, I remember being very embarrassed at my appearance; I felt like everyone was looking at me in all of the places I didn't want to be noticed. For years after that, my scar would fade a bit every so often but never permanently. Sometimes people would notice it right upon meeting me. Others would bring it up after years of knowing me; What happened to your chin? Everyone has something similar to say about it, such as: It makes you, You or, It gives your face character.  Which, personally, I find that particular comment to only be appropriate when complimenting a grown man. No offense. 

          I guess I really don't notice it anymore. I don't mind having it, for that reason. It obviously makes me feel self-conscious when I can tell that someone notices it for the first time, but then again, I think most of us get uncomfortable when the person we are talking to is looking at something on our face (other than our eyes) in general. I know for a fact that my bike accident has greatly influenced how cautious and hesitant I am today. None of my scars have vanished, including the ones on my knees and collarbones, and I have since accrued many more from various activities. I might just be accident prone; my moped slipped out from under me in the rain a few summers ago while turning a corner. Incidentally, my dad sold it last week. Probably for the best...  

+Marked for life.

Day 22: No matter what I do,

I can never seem to turn my brain off at night.

No matter how exhausted I am; no matter how badly I want to sleep.

          I can't concentrate. Or maybe it's that I concentrate too much. The equation is all correct; I have the appropriate environment... a bed, a dark room, comfortable clothes, and something next to silence, if I'm lucky. I close my eyes and yet... they might as well be open. I just lie there, reliving the moments of the day without necessarily wanting to. I think of the things I said, the things I did, and all the things I have to remember for tomorrow. I have tried so many natural ways (because that's the only way I'll have it) to avoid the mind interruptions that so inconveniently approach when I need to call it a day. I write things down on paper to convince myself I won't forget, and consume copious amounts of sleepy tea to give my head the hint that its time to find the 'off' switch. But every night is the same, and some are worse than others. On a bad night, not being able to sleep is more than just the fear of being tired the next day; it's about being alone in the darkness and the silence. When I toss and turn for hours and can only imagine what time it is, it makes me feel anxious and uncomfortable because it's like waking up and learning that civilization is extinct. 

          I'm not an insomniac, I just can't relax enough to find sleep easily. No matter how physically comfortable the bed may seem, my bones feel like they are sticking into me on every pressure point. There is no ideal sleeping position because something will eventually fall asleep (other than me, that is) that will cause me to shift in order to stop that pins and needles feeling. The other common culprit is having a song stuck in my head. No matter how much I may enjoy that particular tune during the day, it turns into taunting when I'm trying so desperately to hear nothing. The same few lines will repeat themselves over and over... sometimes I even wake up with it still chorusing in my head. A tactic that I have been using when this happens is to make my ears ring, which I have gotten pretty good at doing on my own command. The unchanging and static mental 'sound' from this can usually deter any kind of pattern or rhythm from a familiar melody.  At which point, white noise is hardly noise at all.  

A rested body, a tired mind.

Day 21: I wish I could change

my dependence on technology.

Back to a simpler time when you used your noggin more.

          Google it. You don't need a map, you have the Garmin. I am a little weak when it comes to my reliance on everything tech. This isn't to say that I'm all about having the newest, most up-to-date form of everything... (exhibit a: my brick of an iPod). But, I noticed that I have a severe tendency to need to multi-task on a regular basis; its a habit. I will be eating dinner and I feel the need to check my Facebook from my phone without really thinking before I realize what I'm doing. I am knee-deep in technology at almost all times; walking to class with headphones in, having the internet a click away on my phone, and spending most of the evening on my laptop entertained with whatever I happen to find. 

         I'm not saying that technology is bad or that I'm hoping to become a luddite. This would be a poor decision on my part, based on the major I have chosen, and the fact that I hear words like "interactive" and "social media" multiple times on a daily basis. The age of technology that we know today is not a trend; it's a shift in the way that we communicate and will only become more pronounced from here on out. In fact, I just read an article about a Catholic priest who incorporated this topic into his homily. He discouraged his parishioners from abstaining from things like social media and the internet during Lent, because they are such a useful tool at keeping everyone on the map and in the know. The value of these forms of communication are piqued when the most people utilize them. So of course, a decrease in users means a decrease in experience for everyone else. Keep up, or be left behind. 

          What I am pinpointing as a problem is the fact that my generation is so lost on face-to-face communication. I have less than a handful of friends who will actually call me (instead of an informal text) to see how I'm doing and stay in touch. Don't get me wrong; texting is very convenient and there are a lot of times when it is more appropriate than a phone call, in my opinion. However, I feel terribly guilty when I catch myself allowing a text to interrupt a conversation I am having with someone in person, and dislike others doing the same to me. You wouldn't have multiple conversations with different people interrupting every few moments in person, which is why this practice is borderline impolite and should be avoided at all costs. Perhaps abstaining isn't the answer, but being mindful of your usage is a step in the right direction. For those of you out there who already have this down pat, I commend you.    

It's high-time we remember what it feels like to be unplugged.

Day 20: Sometimes I suspect that

perhaps, I have a bit of an online shopping addiction.

I'm practically a cyber-retail queen.

          It's gotten to the point where I no longer have to fish out my wallet because I remember my credit card numbers so well. This, to me, is quite unsettling. I really am quite a frugal shopper, to be honest. Lord knows how I even got to this point. I don't spend money on a regular basis, and perhaps this is where the problem lies. I go through droughts of purchasing nothing but groceries, and then realize I have nothing to wear, which spurs an online shopping binge. They always start small, and seemingly harmless. I could use a new pair of athletic shoes... Researching the web for athletic  shoes quickly turns into finding a new pair of flats, and flats quickly turn into the ever so elusive heels that I just can't seem to commit to. This can go on for weeks at a time; e-mailing product links to myself until I have a smorgasboard of options to trot out and compare prices. Remember my post about in-store shopping woes as a lanky adolescent? This solves the headaches almost entirely. The internet is a perfect avenue to shop around and utilize customer reviews and get the best bang out of your buck. I'm getting rather good at it, which is why I have myself so worried. And let's get one thing straight here: my virtual shopping cravings are not limited to clothing and apparel. I have scoured the internet for everything from bicycles, to noise-cancelling headphones. I am an equal-opportunist product-seeker. Don't fret, cat-eye sunglasses. I'm coming for you in the near future.  

       Here's what I speculate it comes down to: online shopping is smart. I have three main reasons for this, each as obvious and straightforward as the next. 1) Competitive pricing allows us, the shopper, to find the best deal that the world wide web has to offer (More needles, less haystack). 2) Hearing what other customers have to say about a product is something everyone should take advantage of. I think it's safe to say that many companies are biased about their products most of the time, regardless of the fact that the new shirt you bought will likely fall apart after being washed (and they know it will!). 3) Long lines at the checkout: need I say more?

       One last point: online shopping is dangerously easy. Watch yourselves. 

I have a search bar, and I know how to use it. 

Day 19: Though we are from the earth,

we tend to get a bit Moony, too.

Despite appearances, our nearest friend in space is 221,000 miles away.

          Tonight, astrologists and amateur stargazers alike are in for a treat. According to NASA, the moon will be 30% brighter and 14% bigger than usual this evening, which only occurs once every 18 years. People keep tabs on the moon, and have been doing so for eons. We don't quite know why, but we love the moon and our nights would be lonely and dark without it.  Wolves howl, crickets chirp, people are romantic, and so on. The moon shows up whether or not you remind it to, without being acknowledged or thanked. My relationship with the moon is a lot like that. I don't necessarily keep track of its cycles, but I can subconsciously tell when it is about to change because it affects my mood, the way I interact with others, and my sleeping patterns.

        Night. Darkness. It is such an interesting part of life. Western society tries to dictate that we are inactive at night; to only be productive during the day when the sun can light the earth. But I find the night to be a calming and necessary part of each day's routine. Maybe it is the college student in me saying this, but I appreciate staying up a bit later than I should in order to stay in touch with the night and what it has to offer me. Everything is quiet; a swelling pause from all of the noise and business that is the day. Night is a personal time for many of us; we aren't expected to engage in rigorous conversation or tedious duties. It is the time that leaves us alone with our thoughts; soaking in the events of the day and what it has meant to us, how it has changed or not changed us. We are ourselves to our very core at night; stripped of the masks we wear on a daily basis and apt to expose our true colors.  

       The moon comforts me on nights when I toss and turn for hours, when not one soul is awake to console me and loneliness creeps in. The moon is there when you wake up from a nightmare and need an ounce of reality to prove to you that it was all just a dream. The moon is there as our natural nightlight, even though as adults we are supposed to have outgrown our fear of the dark. As childish as it sounds, I can hardly walk into an unlit room without getting chills on the back of my neck. Thank goodness I can rely on the moon. It is simple; it is sincere. 

          

A night in shining armour.

Day 18: Most people don't know that

I am a bit of a pack rat.

I save just about everything because of sentimental attachment.

          Trinkets, knickknacks, newspaper clippings, buttons, bottle caps, boxes... you name it. I can't bring myself to throw away cards that were given to me decades ago. I find fortune cookies to be kooky yet save-worthy. I save product labels with unique and interesting packaging. When I was in middle school, I began a habit of tearing out magazine ads (those housed in everything from National Geographic to Real Simple) and housed the collection in a folder. This quickly became two folders, and then three, and so on, until I decided my collection needed a more permanent home with ample space for new additions and varying mediums. It came to be known as my 'art morgue', and is now a large Rubbermaid container - one that I insisted fitting into the car the day my parents moved me into my freshman college dorm. 

         Initially, I only began collecting because I had a curiosity for design and pretty visuals. Yet, as it transpired, I set my sights on an advertising degree and truly learned from what I had saved all of those years. I began to develop my own art directions preferences for look and style. I often used certain pieces to make artsy cards for friends' birthdays and other milestones (something I wish I had more time for as of late). Incredibly, there are things that I mentally keep track of and know that exist in my art morgue, but there are definitely moments when I'm leafing through the lot of it and have the pleasant surprise of finding a gem I don't remember saving.  To anyone else, its all just paper, really. But I love every piece and every scrap, and will never stop collecting. I save, because it can all be used for the right project.

One's trash is another's treasure .

Day 17: Contrary to many others,

I do not fear Death.

I don't think I do, anyway.

         It is mysterious. It is uncertain. It is unpredictable. The outcome is unknown. From what I can infer, these are the reasons many fear Death and dying. Death is no party, and a loss of life is something that was made to hit us hard as human beings with a capacity to feel. We need to feel subtraction and difference in our lives in order to make room and have the capacity to feel whole. Without a hole, there would simply be a flat surface, unable and inept to carry the joys and happiness that we encounter.

          I would fear a tragic and painful death, of course. The way in which it would happen is always troubling and yet we think about the possibilities regardless of the fact that we have little control over that part of our fate. Being cautious is something that I often over-do. It sounds tacky, but half the time I feel like I am a living representation of Murphy's Law. If a bunch of friends and I were jumping across a chasm and they all got across, I would be the one to slip. 

         As macabre as this all sounds, and for as much that many find Death to be a serious topic that only suicidal people discuss, I find that talking about it makes it a lot easier to accept and comprehend. There are only two guarantees in life: you will be born, and you will die. The rest, and everything in-between, is entirely up to us and this is where the good news comes in: you have the choice and the ability to determine your life's outcomes. Some of us seek thrills that make our hearts beat out of our chests; that adrenaline rush of near-death experiences. Others find that the best way to live life is to enjoy the comforts and relish in them. I would say that I, and most people, find themselves somewhere in the middle. We may not have control of what happens to us in the End, but we do have control of the journey that precedes it, and that it what makes this beautiful life one worth living.   

Forget the inevitable, and enjoy the ride. 

Day 16: As odd as it may sound, being put into new situations

and starting from scratch is something of sport to me.

I welcome the challenge to start with nothing and end with results.

         I used to think that I knew everyone when I was little. Everyone. Everywhere my parents took me, I knew names and faces, and at the time I assumed that was all there was. I forgot about this for awhile, until I was an adult and it dawned on me that I was simply in many of the same places with the same people. It makes sense that everyone seemed so familiar because there was no variation to be had. At the age of 6, the places that I was frequenting were school, church, play dates, and family gatherings; many of which had the same crowd... so, as to be expected, I took this to mean that I knew every existing person on the planet. These familiar faces represented connections and positive feelings. 

          And a word about that: I have been developing something of a theory on what determines the way we perceive beauty and attractiveness. I feel that many of us would say that the people closest to us in our lives and those we see frequently (significant others, friends, family, etc.) are beautiful; I do, at least. My theory is this: a familiar face is a catalyst for positive feelings, and therefore these positive feelings are the cause for believing these people to evoke physical beauty. This isn't to say that they are not in fact pretty or handsome (or in contrast, that strangers appear 'ugly' upon first meeting), but rather that the frequent basis on which we see someone convinces us more-so that they are visually, and intrinsically, 'good'. In this way, attractiveness correlates to a ratio of closeness and frequency. I could be entirely wrong, as I have no scientific evidence of this, but I really do believe it based on my own experiences. (Tangent alert. Back to the topic at hand.)  

         It wasn't until halfway through high school that I began to seriously branch out and try new situations where I didn't know a soul. Extracurricular milestones such as Badger Girls State and Leadership Camp were my practice for secondary education and the professional world. The people I have met, the friendships I have found, and the connections I have made along the way are irreplaceable and were a necessary step to get me where I am today. It comes down to this: I want to learn as much as I can from others, no matter who they are, where they come from, or what they believe. If we forever stay glued to what we know (the people we know) and have no desire to expand this circle, we run the risk of never knowing what someone else out there may be able to teach us. 

 Things are what you make of them. 

Day 15: Put down your gavels,

and exit the courts of your minds.

We have only the right to judge ourselves.

          Life is one long, drawn-out trial, it seems. Everyone judges one another; it's in our nature. If we disagree with what someone else is doing, or if it isn't what we would do, we consider it 'wrong' instead of just 'different'. There is a fine line between thinking these things, and actually bringing them out into the open. When you think about it, even though we may not verbally disclose the judgments we make upon each other, they will inevitably still be revealed through our actions, attitudes, and body language. There is no surefire way to hide our perceptions of each other, which means that it's best to first try to change ourselves and our own minds, instead of expecting others to do so.  

         Being judgmental and allowing assumptions to override reality is something that I personally struggle with, and I am confident to say that I'm getting better at this in time. I can't tell you how many times I have had a close family member or friend tell me that I have a poor reaction to news I don't want to hear. It didn't take very long for the message to sink in; I was embarrassed and ashamed. I started realizing how often I was judging a person, or even a situation, without first knowing all of the facts (and even when I did).  

        People do things for their own reasons, in the end. And this is the way it should be; it shouldn't matter what anyone else thinks. No one can fairly judge another's actions because there is no possible way for them to be in the exact same position, all things considered. It is all very objective and should remain that way. The difficult, yet essential part, is keeping tabs on ourselves and making sure that we don't consider everyone's business to be our own, free to be judged and analyzed as 'right' or 'wrong'. Let's be honest, things are rarely black and white as such. 

        

Give the benefit of a doubt, without a doubt.

Day 14: No sense in avoiding the topic any longer

My height, that is.

In this corner...

weighing in at 135 lbs...
reaching 6'1'...

          It makes me who I am, which took me a long time to accept. For as long as I can remember, my height has been putting me in situations I don't want to be in, thrust into the limelight before I was ready to be. Let's face the facts: tall people get noticed, and this gets old very quickly when you're in that awkward stage - the kind where you feel as though you're swimming in something much too big. I dreaded back-to-school shopping with my mother because I knew I was in for a humiliating few hours. I would try on 17 pairs of jeans and not one would fit right. Shirts, pants, skirts, dresses... everything was either way too short, or way too wide. This was emotionally draining; As a pre-teen, I simply felt like I didn't belong in the world. If correct sizing didn't exist for me, where was my place?

          By middle school, my lanky stature had quickly earned the nickname Twiggy, which further convinced me that this was the only distinguishable quality I possessed. My height was making me uncomfortable in all sorts of situations. Group photos, for example, always went pretty much the same. "Alright, guys in the back... Molly, you too. Get back there."  I didn't want to be in back with the boys, I wanted to be with my friends just like any other 7th grader who falls into that step of conformity. Continuing into high school, most of my peers caught up to my height for the most part, making the photo-op issue less prominent. But I had a new reason to resent my height by this time: It was all anyone could see when I was introduced to them. When meeting someone for the first time, I, just like anyone else, would expect a "Nice to meet you. My name is ______, what's yours?" Not for this giantess. Without fail, I would get the widened eyes and a glazed "Whoa, you're really tall" from my new acquaintances. Yes, yes I am. Would you like me to point out something obvious about your physical appearance as well? How about the color of your hair? Or the prominence of freckles on your face? It's just not polite, and I'm not exactly sure how anyone might think otherwise.

          There is a happy ending to this story. My height and I have been getting along swimmingly for a few years now. I don't even mind that I tower over my older sisters and parents (Raising The Bar?). My height allows me to see concerts from a perfect view, avoid wasting time with step stools, and quite possibly, just enough to distinguish from being another face in the crowd. I recently considered it would be nice to be an inch or two taller. I would bet exorbitant sums of money that this is the absolute last thing I would have wanted as a lanky and awkward 12-year-old, but there it is. I'm already up here, so what's wrong with making it just a tad more distinctive? Sure, some people still refer to me as "that one tall girl", but it resonates with positive feelings for the first time in my life. 

Tall, and glad. 

Day 13: I am constantly reminiscent of my childhood,

and every part that made it what it was.

Or, what I will always refer to as: The Good Old Days.

There is no way to explain my upbringing without first mentioning the neighborhood where I was raised; the one where my parents still reside today. For some, neighbors are merely those living in proximity of our residence, strictly a civic association, curtailed by an affable wave while retrieving the daily mail. I truly cannot imagine what that's like, and I know I am lucky to be able to say so. Our neighborhood - which we, the children, affectionately deemed Francestown - was one of a kind, and the type of environment that Lifetime movies portray.  

Inducted at birth, this kinship of kids had been going strong several years prior to my existence, thanks to my older sisters and a slew of other founding fathers. The families simply belonged to each other. Perfectly acceptable, we'd roam into each others' homes without knocking and help ourselves to a glass of water: the truest test of welcome. It would take exactly one of us to begin the daily activities by ringing each doorbell on the block, often before 8am on summer days and weekend mornings. If you hadn't yet eaten breakfast at the time of this call, it was simply too bad; unwise. We played all together, and we played all day - the lot of 20 of us, in our prime. And every night, without fail, we would hide behind parked cars at the slightest sign of a summoning mother. Dire measures were taken at all costs to evade the parents, prematurely forced to call it a day.

Nearly every discernible place holds a memory. The Maple that served as my first climb, since victimized by the Emerald Ash Borer. The pavement where my sister allowed a fellow founding father to tricycle over her leg in a bout of Speed Bumps - and for obvious reasons, never had the chance to take her turn. The curbside that nearly brought our 3-car wagon train to an early grave, surely due to the implementation of jumprope 'seatbelts' to keep us 'safe'. The hill where we married two Francestonians the ripe age of 4. It was a sense of belonging yet to reoccur at any later point in my life. We found it second nature to be together at all times - so much, that our parents regularly planned outings to haunted houses and amusement parks, year after year. After all, that's what family is all about. 

But things change. People change, and so do their feelings. Friendships that have spanned double decades can suddenly turn brittle with miscommunication and misunderstanding. Things aren't what they used to be anymore, but truthfully, that only sweetens each memory. I would give nearly anything to go back and play like we did, just for one day. I will always think fondly on what were undoubtedly the most impressionable years of my life, and give it all of the good credit it deserves. 

Sincerely, A Proud Product of Francestown.