Now Ain't That the Truth

There is not a textbook definition of happiness.  Each person's happiness is individually unique, but we all have to start somewhere.  And when we find that happiness, it is the happiest thing of all.  

It is comforting to know that someone out there has their head screwed on right.  At least enough to keep all the rest of us in line.  A truly inspirational piece.

http://elitedaily.com/life/20s-things-you-need-to-let-go-to-live-happy-life/

xo c

Give Me Some China Rice

When I was in 5th grade, a local musician put on a program to help us write a school song.  The lyrics "I am free to be me, here at VP" still haunt me sometimes.  Who would have thought that a bunch of 10-year-olds could be so creative...  

He told us that groups like N*Sync and the Backstreet Boys were trash.  We all gasped and stared at him in horror.  He said they are boring and lazy, at which I clasped my hand over my mouth to stifle a scream.  He explained that real music has a beat that has no rhyme or reason.  It needs to makes you smile just because, or makes your feet move so fast you trip, or makes you think you have a great voice, or that you can listen to on repeat and each time gets better.  He said that the lyrics are secondary, the beat is the foundation of the song.  Not just "boom, boom, pow, boom, boom, pow, boom, boom, pow", but a real beat that makes you feel something.

I came across Joburg Jam a couple of years ago and I was immediately addicted.  It's not Miley Cyrus or Beyoncé or Lady Gaga or Avicci.  It doesn't make the top charts.  But that is the point. 

It makes you feel that something.  I couldn't tell you what it is, there is no definition or formula, it's just simply a feeling.  I've tried so hard to understand what they are saying so I can sing along, but I can't seem to figure it out.  At 0:32 it sounds like they're saying "Give me some China rice".  I highly doubt that is what they are actually saying, but a bunch of everyday sounds is about as real as real music gets. 

xo c

Fish Out of Water

"There are these two young fish swimming along and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says, "Morning, boys.  How's the water?"  And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes, "What the hell is water?"

My aunt gave me "This Is Water" by David Foster Wallace as a graduation gift.  It is one of those pretty little books that you won't read and you probably won't even open, but it looks pretty.  Up until now, "This Is Water" has been just that, a decoration on my shelf. 

On May 4, 2013 I sat on the quad in my fluorescent purple and gold clown robes, a little tipsy off of breakfast mimosas.  Sitting there amongst rows and rows of my peers was irritating and almost felt like a waste of time.  I just wanted to find my friends and celebrate, but the ceremony dragged on.  When my major was called I handed some teacher I had never seen before a note card with my name on it so that they could announce me as I was ushered across the stage.  I paused only for a moment so that the dean could hand me a piece of paper and smile big for the photographer.  The piece of paper said something along the lines of "Congratulations, you are officially an alumni of James Madison University.  Now give us your money."  Maybe in a more discreet way, though.  When all 500 some of the College of Arts and Letters graduates had received their measly piece of paper, the dean said "Congratulations class of 2013!"  And that was it. 

When it comes time to graduate, we hear countless cliché motivational speeches that we become stupid with this false reality.  We actually start to think that the real world is all rainbows and butterflies, but when you have to wake up at 6 am every morning, sit in two hours of traffic to and from work, going to the grocery store is the highlight of your week, and your entire paycheck goes to bills, you stand there like an idiot saying to yourself, "Sh*t, they lied and I believed them."

 When I first pulled "This Is Water" off the shelf, I felt scholarly in a school girl kind of way.  Why yes, I will read this pretty book by candlelight on this rainy afternoon with a cup of tea, how sophisticated of me.  So this past weekend as my sophisticated self flipped through this pretty little book, I found myself wishing that someone had said to me what Wallace said to the 2005 graduating class of Kenyon College.  Wallace was raw and harsh, even gruesome at some points.  Talk about adding insult to injury, but that painful truth is about as real as the real world will ever be.  I appreciated every word. 

"The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day.  That is real freedom.  That is being taught how to think...It is about making it to thirty, or maybe even fifty, without wanting to shoot yourself in the head.  It is about the real value of a real education, which has nothing to do with grades or degrees and everything to do with simple awareness - awareness of what is so real and essential, so hidden in plain sight all around us, that we have to keep reminding ourselves over and over 'This is water.' 'This is water.'"

Right now we are fish.  We are flopping around trying to make our way back to the water, but no matter how much we thrash and flail, we may only ever make it back if we take a moment to look around and notice that we already are in the water.

xo c

The Pumpkin Apocalypse

Fall is the pumpkin apocalypse.  The day after the Fourth of July, anything red, white, and blue is 95% off to make space for all things fall.  They try to be discreet at first with just a small display of candy corn, but by August it is full force shoved down your throat and when you try to take a breath they just shove another pumpkin flavored something or other into your mouth.  Shelves have been stocked for Halloween for the past month and a half which really irritates me because if you wish away summer, you must not have a heart.  I have held onto the warm weather for as long as I can, but I must admit that fall is officially here.  I have dusted off my riding boots and chunky sweaters so I guess that makes me just as heartless as the rest of them. 

I do love fall though.  Something about it makes me feel all warm inside.  For one, you can finally satisfy your guilty pleasure and eat the large pizza with extra cheese you've been craving all summer because it is socially acceptable to have some extra blubber to keep warm on those cold winter days.  Plus you don't have to carry an extra razor around in your purse for those few stray hairs you missed because you can hide them under pants for the next couple of months and no one will know the difference.  Think cottage on a lake, yard overflowing with piles of red and orange leaves, surrounded by rolling hills that have no end.  Throw a pumpkin into the mix and BAM you've got yourself a pretty accurate description of fall.  

My earliest memories of fall come in some form of football, apples, pumpkins, and more football.  Well before my time, my parents went to UMass.  My dad played football while he was there so when we were growing up we went to quite a few games.  I have not been back in years and I can't remember a specific day or time, but most visits followed the same routine. 

We would leave our house early on Saturday morning and drive to Amherst for the game.  We were still young so we never joined the rowdy crowds of tailgaters.  Instead we packed lunches and sat in the trunk of the car eating our peanut butter and fluff sandwiches.  The stadium was made entirely of concrete and there was something about it that made the entire experience.  This was back when football was still a game and not a business.  It wasn't fancy.  There were no box seats or Gluten-free options at the snack stand, it was just a stadium devoted to the love of the game. 

Some game days were sweltering hot and some were frigid cold.  We didn't know the people sitting around us by name, but in one way or another we knew them.  Many had a son or grandson on the team, some were alumni like my parents visiting for the weekend, and others were just devoted football fans that happened to live in the area, but whenever the Minutemen ran for a glorious touchdown we became one.  My dad jumped up to high five everyone while the rest of us chanted on cue "Go!  Go U! Go UMass!  Go UMass!"  The Minuteman mascot (known in my family as the man with the big head) would run up and down the sidelines with a massive maroon and white flag flying behind him and the band went wild playing the school fight song louder and louder until the field goal was kicked and the canon boomed throughout the stadium.  We would finish the day with dinner at the local sports bar, Rafters, where we pigged out on bottomless popcorn buckets and chicken fingers. 

And so as the last few warm days drift away and the trees begin to shed their leaves, I remember the fall afternoons at UMass as if it were yesterday.  People threw the football and drank cheap beer and cooked hot dogs on charcoal grills.  It was simple, but in that moment, all was right in the world. 

xo c

The District

If you asked me four months ago what I did on a beautiful Sunday afternoon my response would have been something along the lines of, "Woke up at 10.  Fell back asleep.  Finally got out of bed at 1.  Got food.  Laid on the couch and watched TV until I went to bed at midnight."  Sick, I know.  That is one thing that I most definitely don't miss about college. 

Since I spend five days out of the week sitting at a desk and staring at a computer screen, I have developed a whole new appreciation for being outside.  Throughout the summer I spent most weekends laying by the pool in my apartment complex, but now that it is closed for the season I need to find something to do to fill my days off.  Actually I feel almost obligated.  Maybe I could get away with laying on the couch all day at school because Harrisonburg didn't have much to offer apart from cow pastures, but I can't pass up an opportunity to explore our nations capital. 

I really hate being touristy because to be honest, I think it is lazy.  When I studied abroad in London, the way that Big Ben, Parliament, and the London Eye lit up the skyline was absolutely amazing.  You snap picture after picture so that when you get back to America you can show everyone all the great things you did, but what makes your pictures any different than the hundreds of postcards that are sold in souvenir shops?  Just because you have a picture of the London skyline in your scrapbook does not mean that you experienced London.  An experience is not something that you check off your to-do list.  Experience is taking the wrong tube and ending up on the opposite side of the city, getting stuck in the rain with no coat, stopping into a pub for a pint, buying a dress at Portobello Market that you will never wear, drinking one too many pints, having your feet ache so bad that you feel like you will never walk again, sampling every food station in Borough Market so many times that the vendors tell you to go away unless you are going to buy something, getting a piercing in Camden that your parents probably won't approve of, and singing "Wonderwall" at the top of your lungs at karaoke night while the locals roll their eyes and whisper "Bloody American's" under their breath.  Those experiences will never be in a tourist guidebook. 

I have the same perspective in my new home. 

I always remind myself how lucky I am to work in Old Town Alexandria.  It is perfectly picturesque in a  colonial America, Southern charm kind of way.  There are no high-rise buildings , no homeless people begging for money, and no subway that reeks of urine and body order.

Monday through Friday I walk from the parking garage to my office and back.  If it is a nice day I might take a stroll down King Street after work to check out some of the shops.  Otherwise I have never really diverted from my daily route.  On Sunday the weather was absolutely perfect again so I went into Old Town.  I bypassed all of the shops this time and made my way to a park I had come across a few times before.  The park was buzzing with people, the sun was shining, the air was crisp, and sightseeing boats cruised in and out of the harbor.  I sat on a bench and read my book. 

 

After a couple of hours I was starting to get hungry so I packed up camp to head back.  To the naked eye, the park is about 100 yards long with a big warehouse at the far end.  I always assumed that was the end of the park, but when I saw bikers riding back behind the warehouse I decided to check it out.  Unbeknownst to me, the park stretches far beyond Old Town.  There are trails all along the Potomac River that lead to DC.  I walked aimlessly for about an hour until I could see the Capital and the Washington Monument across the water.  A map showed that it is only about 8 miles to DC, but that too far a distance to walk on foot.  Maybe next time.

There is truth in experience, a truth that cannot be taught or learned, but felt.  Every city has buildings, museums, restaurants, parks, and shopping, but until you find the experience that makes your experience unique to you, you have not experienced anything.

xo c

Go Big or Go Home

Best of luck to my not so little brother on the first game of his senior season!  Wish I could be there more than anything, but I'll be rooting for you all the way from VA.  Who would have ever thought that the cute skinny kid would turn out to be such a stellar athlete!  

 

 

Here's a little game day inspiration from Coach Boone himself...

"You look like a bunch of fifth grade sissies after a cat fight!  You got anger, that's good.  You're gonna need it.  You got aggression.  That's even better you're gonna need that, too. But any little two year old child can throw a fit!  Football is about controlling that anger, harnessing that aggression into a team effort to achieve perfection!"

I am so proud of all that you have accomplished and cannot wait to see what this season has in store for you.  Keep working hard and never forget to have fun!  Go Tigers!!

xo c

Complain Less, Live More, and Appreciate the Smallest of Silver Linings

The first time I heard the phrase "silver lining" was when I was in 4th grade when I read a book called "The Amazing Days of Abby Hayes: Every Cloud Has a Silver Lining".  I had no idea what it meant and I didn't really care.  It was one of those books that all the "cool" girls were reading so I just went along with it.  Actually to be honest I don't think I knew what a silver lining really was until recently.

I've had it all for the past 21 years and I didn't even realize it.  So here is my sob story, just kidding it's not that bad :)  I graduated from James Madison University in May and I was scheduled to start work at a small public relations and marketing agency in Old Town Alexandria, VA just three weeks after.  I had 21 days to buy a car, find roommates, find an apartment, and move.  To my own surprise, I accomplished everything, but that was the easy part. 

 

I kept myself busy over the summer months adjusting to my new home, but when I didn't pack up the car at the end of August to make the seven hour trek down to JMU was when it hit me.

The scary part is that the real world and college are in two parallel universes that don't intersect.  My life is great for the most part.  I have a job, I am completely independent from my parents, I like my job a lot and I am learning to love it, I have lost 20 pounds since I moved, I am slowly making friends, and my bank account is not in too bad of shape, but its those lonely nights when my friends that are still at school post pictures of them at an America themed party that my heart jumps into my throat and I have to swallow back tears.

Go to class, eat, do homework, go out, cure hangover, sleep.  Repeat for best results.  After four years of this routine, we walk across the stage, we turn our tassels, and the real world slaps us across the face – a full palm, stinging, watery eye, five-star slap. We try to recover, but it is a shades drawn, pounding headache, reruns of 'Friends', one hand in a bag of chips, and the other hugging an extra large fountain soda kind of never-ending, real world hangover.  Most of the time it is really hard and really scary, but its the little things that snap you out of your self-induced depression and remind you that you still have it all.

So yeah college is over and it kind of sucks, but the real world kind of rocks.  I worked my a$$ off to get where I am today and just because it isn't glamorous doesn't mean it isn't great.  

I had a busy week at work so last night was dedicated to me.  I got myself a double bottle of wine for $7.99 (what a steal!) and a wheel of Brie, I painted my nails, and then I laid in bed for the rest of the night watching old movies on Netflix.  I woke up this morning to an absolutely gorgeous day, the perfect end-of-the-summer weather. So now I sit on my back porch bundled up in a sweatshirt and sweatpants with the sun shining on my face.  I am happy.  

This is real and raw and probably going to be a little boring at times.  This is not dedicated to "Meals on a Budget", "Guide to a Fashionista Lifestyle", or "30 Days to a Better Butt".  To be honest I really don't know what I'll write about each day because life is unpredictable, but it is my inspiration to complain less, live more, and appreciate the smallest of silver linings.  So hop aboard the crazy train because this is my journey through the unchartered waters of my future.  

To jumpstart this blog, allow me to share some of the silver linings that have made this already great day a little better.

• I pulled an awesome wrought iron shelf out of the dumpster and it now stands in the corner of my room
• This Godiva Pumpkin Spice coffee that I am drinking is delicious 
• The Jackson 5 Pandora station that I am listening to is on point
• I washed my sheets this morning, they feel amazing

Maybe I will find the cure to cancer or maybe I'll just continue to lay in bed and drink cheap wine, who knows where this will go.  Should be fun.  

xo c