As a typical white suburbanite, I spent the first 22 years of my life in school. I was even one of those kids enrolled in Baby Montessori classes, so this isn’t a hyperbole. From the crib until a stormy, cicada riddled, Friday the 13th in May of 2011, I was a student.

When it comes to being a student, most everyone loves college, hates middle school, has a wide range of reactions to high school, and remembers little of elementary school besides the tremendous Halloween celebrations and dramatic recess adventures. But, I’ve found that no matter the age in question, the idea of “school” generally inflicts a slight cringe, eye roll, or some combination of the two. And while I too admit that school was definitely a mostly painful experience, I think we take for granted how good we really had it.

Throughout all the early morning wake-ups, the tests for which we were wholly unprepared, the slew of pissed-off substitute teachers with horrible breath, and the hours of tediously mind-numbing lectures, we had a purpose: good grades and college. The former obviously being just a gateway to the latter, but they were tangible goals nonetheless. We knew what we were working towards and why we were working so hard. That simple, tunnel-vision type of aspiration is not as common in real life.

With graduation season in full swing, I’ve noticed the newly reinvigorated rush of “Now What?” sentiments flooding the digital social sphere. These new grads are quickly realizing what my classmates and I have been realizing for the past 2 years – the game plan ended. We got to the end of the maze and there’s flat-out nothing on the other side of the finish line. It’s basically a cliff, a drop-off into nothingness, and once you fall, you can’t go back. There aren’t any more rules or directions or guidelines, no more “if then” fill-in-the-blanks to aid every decision, and most strikingly, there’s no one there to comment or criticize what we do decide. We don’t get graded in the real world. Failure is still very real, but if you fail, you just fail. There won’t be any red pen, disappointed looks, or conferences with the academics committee. Mom won’t have to meet with the Principal. Teacher has officially left the building. And why do we find this so troublesome after years and years of hating it all so much? Because, for the first time in our sheltered suburban-spawned lives, we are forging our own paths and we have absolutely no idea which way is north.

It’s been two years since my initial “oh shit” moment immediately following graduation, and I think I’ve finally made my peace with it. But, instead of the contented complacency that I feel most of my peers have started to develop in regards to the day-in-day-out workday grind, I’ve only replaced my recent-grad panic with another troubling emotion.

I’ve never been claustrophobic, but I think it’s probably a very similar sensation to how I feel now: trapped. I feel as though I’m caught in some sort of corporate labyrinth, from which there is no exit. When I think about the future in all of its vagueness, I get frustrated, and a severe hopelessness sets in that pushes me almost to the point of apathy. However, this is where I know my situation is odd: I love my job. I love the people; I love my office; I love the work; I feel rewarded and challenged; I even love my little desk (I have a view). And I genuinely believe that I have one of the best jobs a recent college grad could snag. All in all, I feel immensely lucky and happy…for now.

Those two little words, “for now,” are the only way I can really explain this claustrophobic feeling in any way that makes logical sense. I know that I’m happy now – that’s easy. But, I can’t shake this nagging feeling at the base of my skull, hissing, chiding me, “it won’t last. I can’t do this forever.” I don’t mean this pessimistically; it’s not a clairvoyant prediction of impending doom. It’s a carnal and instinctual self-knowledge that, for me, this life just won’t be enough.

And so, instead of wallowing in apathy or trying to ignore my own internal alarm, I’ve decided to make a change. I’ve decided to go back to school.

I should note importantly, my decision to go back to school was not built from wanting a change for change’s sake or simply for the fact that I miss being a student, because it’s so much more than that.  It took a lot of sleepless nights and deep thought about what I felt was missing from my current life’s trajectory – what was so wrong with the job that I loved that it left me this scared and frustrated every time I thought of my future? The answer I found was pretty straightforward, and if I had ever taken the time to be truly honest with myself, I would have known it all along.

I’m not reaching my full potential. I’m challenged, but not in a way that will last. I’m happy, but only on a surface level. And in all honesty, I miss academia; I miss learning. I want to earn my doctorate, and ultimately, I want to be a college professor. Though, seeing this thought expressed in words still makes my breath catch and my palms sweat, I know with all my heart that it’s right.

I could go into the long list of reasons why I know this or how, but that’s not really the point here. The point is that I finally know my path, my purpose. I hear so many people speak in clichés, talking about the simple decision to change the things that don’t make us happy, and that the only thing keeping us from making these changes is fear, but no one ever acknowledges the real obstacles that get in the way. Money always being problemo numero uno. So when change is actually possible, when someone’s dreams can actually be made into a reality, it’s something really special.

My future, though soon to be filled with long hours of all the worst parts of school, will also be something for which I can finally be excited.

featured image: nerdwallet.com

Reasons why I love Mindy Kaling:

She’s Indian. I’m particularly interested in Indian-Americans. While having been born in America, in Mindy’s case, Cambridge, Mass, they cannot possibly shed themselves of their both metaphorical and literally colorful ethnic traditions. They are the only human beings on the planet who can actually pull off a sari, something that I wish I could do without looking like a poser. Indian food is among the most flavorful and indulgent of all cuisine, and Hinduism is objectively the most interesting religion.

She’s a woman. Girl power.

She’s funny while being sincere. Her real life stories are actually funny and not from a mean or offensive place. She doesn’t shoot for cheap jokes. She doesn’t poke fun at others, mostly herself.

She’s an Ivy League girl. There’s a lot to be said about somebody who has a $200,000 education and chooses to be a television writer. Her humor reflects her high-society upbringing and education.

She keeps things low-key. She is humble You probably wouldn’t know that she has been in an extensive list of movies and TV shows that you have seen because she usually plays, “crazy ex-girlfriend #2″. She’ll play these small roles even though she wrote or co-wrote the movie.

Kelly Kapoor. Her character on The Office is based off of her own persona- the person that others in the industry actually thought she was. You probably didn’t know that she started writing for The Office at the age of 24 and wrote more than 20 episodes. She was, in my opinion, the best character in the show. For the 8th season, she was the official Executive Producer of the show.

There aren’t many female, non-skinny, non-white comedians out there. Mindy Kaling has solidified her place in the comedy world and in my heart. I love you, Mindy.

Featured image courtesy of perezhilton.com

Today was a long day.

Not entirely in a negative way, but it was just long. It was full of work, too much public transportation, a few difficult conversations, laughs, some tears, and too much thinking. But I did have some frozen yogurt.

Anyway, as the day concluded, and I finally relaxed in my bed looking out the window watching the rain crash onto the street, I was able to take a deep breath and reflect on the long day. Some days are tough. Some situations are difficult. And, even more so, life can be difficult.

I moved away from the window and got out of my emo moment, hit off my lamp and opened up my computer. And then I watched this video which told a beautiful, somewhat life-changing story about a 17-year-old named Zach, who is dying. His outlook on life is incredible, the love he gives to friends and family is undoubtedly unconditional, and the positivity that he has despite his terminal illness is more than admirable.

And it made me think. Life is just too short. There is not enough time to waste the days. To not be your best each day. To be a bad friend. To stress about the little things. To be reckless with someone’s heart. To get hurt. To talk poorly about someone else. To judge. To complain. To not work hard enough. To not follow your passions. To not care enough. To not love enough, and to not share that you love someone. Don’t wait until it is too late to do everything you set out to do. Don’t miss writing a chapter in your life.

Today, Zach passed away.

So sure, today was a “long day” for me. But there are people out there who have it a lot worse and have probably lived their life a lot more sweeter and stronger. The amazing thing is that those types of people are admired not because they are dying, but because of how they have lived.

“You can either choose to be freaking out in the dark and thinking okay what’s out there. Or, you can just relax and fall asleep- and just be happy and content with everything.” -Zach Sobiech

Watch Zach’s story here, and I assure you that you’ll no longer think your day is that long. You might want to get some tissue for this one:

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featured image from www.upworthy.com

I hope that I don’t offend some of your readers out there in cyberspace, but I’ve never been a big fan of yoga. Uncomfortable poses, teachers with soft and soothing voices, all of the people in that room with me. I prefer a kind of activity that is heavily cardiovascular. I like breaking a sweat, falling on my butt and getting back up to try again. I never thought that yoga could be any of these things… until recently.

It may be to my detriment that I’ve lived in Boulder for as long as I have. The few yoga classes that I have gone to have been very competitive. It’s as if the people in there are pushing themselves not for personal fulfillment, but rather, to one-up one another. It’s a contest to see who can wear the most Lululemon and can look the sexiest while folding her foot into her face. Not to mention, it’s f-ing expensive when it doesn’t really need to cost a dime. This has made me sour.

Lately, though, I am changing my tune. My skating injuries are starting to take a toll on my body and frankly, it’s annoying. I know that yoga is good for me, I have always known that, so I have decided that it’s time to do some yoga without the buyer’s remorse. I have found the perfect way to not have to deal with the Lululemon, the embarrassment of the teacher approaching me to tell me that I am doing a pose wrong, and the vapidness of the yoga studio- do it in my friggen living room!

Thanks to yogajournal.com’s free index of yoga poses, I can browse through categories that focus on parts of my body that I want to stretch. It gives detailed instructions and ALSO explains the importance and spiritual significance of a pose if one is so inclined to look these things up. I come home from skating or some other form of cardio, take out my yoga mat, and do some stretching and strength training while watching reality TV.

Anything that combines crappy television and improving my health and figure is grand in my book.

Featured image courtesy of yogajournal.com.

Do you remember reading The Great Gatsby in high school? If you accurately remember, it was a horribly boring book. Sure, F. Scott Fitzgerland is considered one of America’s greatest literary masters, but I wouldn’t read that book again unless held at gun point.
Have you seen the 1974 film version of “The Great Gatsby” staring Robert Redford? If you have, you may not remember it, because you probably fell asleep.

Having said that, Baz Luhrmann did a pretty fantastic job of making one of the most over-rated (second to Catcher in the Rye. There, I said it!) and most sleep-inducing stories into a movie worth the cost of a movie ticket. I don’t know if it was the colors, the accents or the Jay-Z accompaniment, but there was something about that movie that made me want desperately to enter the screen, throw on a glittery headband and do the Charleston. The scenery, the costumers and over-the-top character base made for film as decadent as the parties thrown by Gatsby. The audience could really grow fond of Gatsby, sympathetic to Nick, indifferent to Jordan, annoyed by Daisy and spiteful of Tom. Is anyone else curious why there was no evidence of a baby Buchanan until the last scene?

As the movie came to a close and the theater lights came on, the 18-24 year-old crowd looked a little disillusioned. As if they have never considered that people who are surrounded by enormous wealth could possibly be unhappy. As if they forgot that the book actually ended quite tragically. As if they realized that their own “carelessness”  could result in having to escape a homicide conviction (sorry If I just ruined the story for you, but after having been in production for 90 years, if you haven’t read The Great Gatsby, you probably weren’t planning on it).

The Great Gatsby is considered by most to be a defining piece of American literature of the 20th century and it’s not because it is an incredible story, but because it is a timeless story. It reminds readers (or viewers, in this case) that all the riches in the world do not mean a thing unless you are surrounded by people who care about you. The audience is reminded that we can escape from our problems during the weekend with the help of liquor or “anxiety medicine,” but that the realities of our problems will have to be faced head-on when we step outside of our own metaphorical chateau de Gatsby. Good company in small numbers is of more value than “a rotten crowd” in the thousands. Finally, we are reminded that a  decent book can always make a better movie.

Featured image courtesy of insidemovies.ew.com.

“Wake up…The real you is not a puppet that life pushes around.”

Featured image courtesy of http://i2.ytimg.com/vi/mMRrCYPxD0I/hqdefault.jpg

“To the world you may be one person; but to one person you may be the world.”

-Dr. Seuss

 

 

 

feature image found @ http://www.smartrecruiters.com/static/blog/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/DrSeussFish.jpeg

Yesterday, I ran to the grocery store for a “quick” trip. I circled the produce section (the only section I occupy) and grabbed a few things of every color. Some kale here, carrots there, wham, bam, throw it in the bag and get out fast (I hate the grocery store).

Thirty minutes and $60 later, I looked into my linen bags and asked how the f I just spent so much money. My diet is at least 70% vegetables, the things that SHOULD be the least expensive, and I just blew $60 in thirty minutes. No meat. No oils. No fancy nuts. $60. It’s puzzling.

So, today, after years of spending insane amounts of money on organic vegetables and telling myself that I should just buy some seeds and create a garden, I did just that. $8 in seeds from the hardware store, some of those little divider things for starting out your seeds, and blamo! I have an organic garden.

Mint, rosemary, parsley, basil, dill, mixed greens, mustard greens, heirloom tomatoes, grape tomatoes, carrots, and peppers will make up the bulk of my new garden. I also bought sunflower seeds in the hopes that I can outline my little yard with some tall sunflowers. This doesn’t cross out everything on my grocery list, and I won’t be able to harvest these veggies for at least a month or two, but it’s a start. The hardest part is going out and actually buying the accessories necessary for a garden. The best part is yielding the fruit of your loins.

One day,  I will have a small house on a big plot of land. I will have groves of fruit trees, bushes of herbs, and rows and rows of vegetables. I will mostly eat only what I grow, and it will be as delicious as it will be economical. I look forward to that day, but for now I am just pleased to be able to occupy a few pots in which I can grow and transport my garden.

“Girl time” is something that I have gotten so little of since I left my freshman dorms, that I forget how much I enjoy it. I can recall the few occasions in the last 5 years that I have had quality girl time and although the other parties present may not even remember, I cherish those moments.

A few Januarys ago, I went to visit my family in suburban Chicago and spent one Saturday night in Wicker Park with some girlfriends. I got dropped off at their place early in the evening, their apartment was relatively new and without furniture in the sitting area of the upstairs. Even though we sat on the floor as we giggled and reminisced and painted our fingernails (cliché, but hey, it’s what we do), I couldn’t have been more comfortable. That night, I shared a small bed in a tiny, hot room with one of my closest friends. Not really a picture of luxury here, but waking up next to her, with her makeup from the night before smeared around her eyes, it made me smile. It wasn’t the penthouse that we went to that night to “pre-game” that was the best part of the night (although nice). It wasn’t the upstairs bar with table service that made that night memorable. You can do those things on any given day, but quality time with friends cannot be manufactured.

It’s important to have somebody with whom you can spend time talking about insecurities, relationships, family and other friends. It’s humbling to discover that somebody who I may see as a picture of perfection has insecurities herself. It’s healthy to share personal information with an individual you trust. It’s fun to laugh with friends about stupid things that you boyfriend did to anger you, or kind things that he did to show that he loves you. This does not require a long and intense friendship.  Really, just a bottle of wine and an old movie will do the trick.

Okay, the Sex and the City image is corny, but Google images was seriously limiting— courtesy of diet-weight-lose.com

I didn’t fall in love with Alt-J today. I didn’t fall in love with them last night—when they rocked the Bluebird Theater for the first time. I fell in love with them when Joe Newman’s unique vocals first echoed through my ear buds, when I heard Gwil Saisbury’s guitar riffed through “Taro,” when Gus Unger-Hamilton’s harmonies made the hair on my arms stand up, and when Thom Green’s drum kits served as a crutch throughout it all. Consequently, my love for Alt-J grew deeper last night as I rubbed elbows, bumped shoulders, and accidentally held hands with strangers at the very -sold-out show at Denver’s Bluebird Theater on April 23^rd. After the [amazing] LA-based indie-electronic opener Wildcat! Wildcat! ended their Alt-j-esque set, no one budged for fear that a tall flannel-wearing, PBR-holding concert-goer would hinder their view of this highly anticipated live performance.

Alt-J opened up with their first song of their only album titled An Awesome Wave. “Intro” was a fitting introduction for their dream-like set. They began with no words, only instrumentals, and a brief glance at the grinning audience. Then came the band’s vocal harmonies, where chants and cheers from the audience could be heard from miles away. They continued playing their album all the way through—switching up a few songs to change up the order. “Interlude 1” followed “Intro” and it was beautiful. Gus glanced over his keyboard, locking eyes with Joe, mouthing “one…two…” then their voices became the focus—no instruments needed. Gus’s deep vocals paired with Joe’s strange, high fluctuating pitches sound hauntingly beautiful—like a dark children’s book, which went well with their dark Pollock-like background and simple bright lights. Their energy was simple, dark, folky, and rock hard. Gus was the only one to speak in between some songs with his quiet British accent a little difficult to decipher, but nonetheless, they seemed thrilled to be there. They played every single song on their album, plus two new songs (yes!) and one cover. You may recognize it from the Drive soundtrack, titled A Real Hero by College feat. Electric Youth. This cover was another vocal-only jam with only Gus and Joe on stage, one white light surrounding each aural savant.

All in all, Alt-J killed it. They jammed out when they knew the crowd wanted an extended version; they smiled, they laughed, and they played everything and more—better than I could have hoped for, which is saying something for such an anticipated show. Oh, and the small venue setting is definitely the way to see this band.