The Girl on Fire

                                                         

I’ve blogged about being a 20-something probably more times than you all care to read. I’ve done nostalgia posts, issues facing 20-somethings, thoughts from, thoughts for, poetry, you name it. I’ve done as many perspectives and ideas as I can probably muster on a good day and I think probably some more on top of that. but today, today is a day of awakening. Today is the day of heart unrest that had me up all night, fuming, crying, filled with super-heroine leveled frustration. Seriously, had I had just an ounce more caffeine I may have turned into the curvy, sassy half-sister of Elektra. But all comics aside, I have both a blog about me and a blog about life for today. I need to do a brain purge and today just seems to be the day to do it, so here goes. It’s probably going to be verbose, it may be a little biased and it most definitely will be emotionally charged and opinionated. That is my waiver statement and you all have been alerted as such.

I’m a teller of stories. Each time I go to write something, say something, think about something, it is always a story. I try to look at all the sides of an issue, even if I’m vehemently against it, for the sake of the story. I want to know the truth. That’s what’s supposed to set us free, right?

           

This past week I’ve looked at more SCOTUS (Supreme Court of the United States) cases and political blogs, news stories and social media commentaries about social issues than I probably ever have. It started out as a paper assignment for one of my classes and turned into a passion fueled quest. But as it would turn out, the thing I love is also the thing I hate. You see, the more stories I read, or cases I analyzed (depending on the moment), the more I found that moment where I knew this was something I was passionate enough about to make into a career. But then after a couple hours of stewing, it was those same things that made me sickeningly depressed. I’ve never experienced something like that. And so, I found myself in the loop of highs and lows that although is not unfamiliar to me, was altogether too much.

It went on like this for about a week, as I said, spending my days in class and reading the things then coming home, doing more homework and letting the issues sit on the back burner. Then I would spend the nights crying, because my heart was so heavy with the injustices that I saw that day. My husband, who is well-accustomed to my emotional outbursts was the greatest of help (no sarcasm!) and I woke each day with a renewed vengeance to attack these case reviews and articles and such with fervor. The cycle just repeated itself. By Sunday (yesterday), I found myself in such a great need for a restoration of my faith in humanity that I decided to watch A Walk to Remember. Little did I know that a.0 my faith would not be restored by that movie alone and b.) I was going to spend the night awake and crying and telling my husband about how much the world hurts my heart. I think I’ve gotten such crappy sleep this past week that I’m running on fumes and that’s literally forcing me to remain in this depression cycle.

So. I want to discuss some of the things here that I did with my husband yesterday/last night.

1. I want to be a diplomat, but I sometimes feel like it’s a lost cause. How can I seek to help people if I cannot even help myself? A: By knowing myself, I will be able to help myself and therefore help the other people.

2. How can I be a diplomat from the “greatest country ever” if we’re so oppressive here? And although we are not the MOST oppressive, how can we be the best if we aren’t the best, you know? A: By making “here” live up to its potential.

3. Why have we come so far only to move backwards? We are oppressing college students with debt, women, different ethnicities, different beliefs, different lifestyles. Don’t believe me? Look at the Ke$ha case, the case in Georgia about LGBT discrimination, the social media stories about Muslim discrimination, the way police officers are treated nationally, look at my post about college debt. And don’t get me started on the Flint, Michigan issue. A: Because people don’t understand the full effect of their decisions. That’s what I can help.

4. If I’ve been doing this research for a week, and am depressed about it, how can I expect to do it for the next 40 or 50 years? A: See below.

                                                        

And really, I’m going to stop it there because the questions just unravel in a fit of hysteria. And no, dear readers, I don’t think you need to answer these questions, but I’d be more than willing to hear your thoughts. I supplied some answers, but they’re obviously shallow ones. As I’m sure you can guess, I’m spending so much time thinking about these questions that homework is starting to bleed through and I’ve become incredibly opinionated about all that is going on. I’m taking some politically based classes this semester (thus the assignment and the bleed through) but you know, I never expected that I would become emotionally invested.

And I guess that’s where I will leave for today. I’ve always viewed my emotions and attachment to ideas as a negative aspect of myself. Like that was my big flaw, the thing that could be the very ruination of all I’ve worked so hard for. I have done my best to hide my emotions, treating them as a part of myself that had to be tamed, that I should be embarrassed about. And yet, it is that very thing about me that is pulling me in two very different directions. I am both very concerned for my emotional health doing this job, living this life. But. I am also incredibly excited, incredibly passionate about this subject and I think that’s the one thing that will force me out of bed each morning, striving to make the world I live in a place I can be proud of, where justice prevails and human rights are universal. 

  

‘Twas The Week of the LSAT

Ever since I decided I wanted to be a diplomat, I have been researching the job, deciding how best to fulfill my dreams and really just trying to find out if that really was the best decision for me. Ultimately I decided it was, that I needed to go to law school..

Stop.

Law. School. Admission. Test.

 
 Four of the scariest words in my life. And you all think I’m joking. But on the review websites for the GRE and the MCAT (Grad School and Med School respectively) there are the people who say things like “Honestly, it’s hard, but f you just take some practice tests, you’ll be fine.” The LSAT reviews? They ALL say things like “If you don’t study every day for 7 hours, at least 9 months in advance, you’re doomed.”

Okay, so maybe I’m getting a little carried away. Or maybe not. But here’s my thoughts on the subject.

I’m not a simpleton. I know I can and will succeed. I know that there are people who took the test before me, and will take it after me and life will go on. The only difference is, I will be going to law school. (I know that for sure, I just need the scores to tell me which one haha).And I’m going to make something of myself. In 4 years from now, I will be a lawyer! But not just that, I will have taken the FSOT (Foreign Service Operative Test) and be *hopefully* on my way to being a diplomat. In this I am very confident. But I just feel like this entire week has been a mental game that has gone on for far too long.

  
It all started Saturday, one week from test day. I knew I had 7 days to prepare myself, to give myself the best chance I could. I became nervous. Like, pit of the stomach cranky nervous.

Sunday, the panic set in. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep and I began grinding my teeth at night. This is something I haven’t done since my senior year in high school when I had to decide where I would go for college. See the connection?

Monday, my jaw hurt from the grinding, but I felt like I was starving. I couldn’t find it in me to get enough caffeine. This was my first tip off that I was more stressed than I let on. Me and not wanting caffeine is NOT normal behavior. Clearly.

Tuesday, I drank more caffeine than the last three days combined. (Back to normal?) My jaw quit hurting and I scurried to do all my homework for the week. I rarely do homework marathons, but I needed to get everything done. ASAP.

Today, I woke up late, got to work late and grabbed a tumbler of cold, left-over-from-yesterday coffee before starting my day. I think I’m just about crazy. In the first hour of my day, I had more accidents, more uh-ohs and more “oh crap”s than I have probably all week semester. I will get home and inevitably either not be able to sleep, of fall asleep for 500000000 hours. (I know, that’s the one I’m assuming too.)

Tomorrow: I begin practice scenario day 1. I have taken practice tests before, but this day will be timed and punctual, as if I were actually taking the test. It’s going to be me against the exam, and I really have to try hard.

Friday: Simulation day 2. I cleared it with my boss, I won’t be coming in and I will instead be doing more practice tests, same as Thursday. But I assume there will be more panic for this one. And just like a child on Christmas Eve, I won’t be able to sleep, I’ll be up all night and then when I do fall asleep, I will wake up with a terrible stomach ache and find out I only slept for two hours before needing to leave. Which brings us to:

Saturday: Game day. Let the all out screaming, panic induced brain games begin! I will inevitably grab a large coffee, need to pee before my test, get anxious, start pacing, get the notice to take my seat and then I will be in total concentration mode. I love that part of me. I can stress out about a situation for weeks and then get to that moment and everything will just go away and I will be able to complete my task with the utmost efficiency and calm. Works like a charm every time.

Sunday: As a reward, I will be going on a friend date to see Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. Because Jane Austen is the best, and I’m just a big sucker for the undead. I literally cannot wait for this. It is my secondary source of hope. 
Now that you all have my week’s planner, let me tell you about this big scary monster test.

First, I had to go get a passport photo. And if you’ve ever taken one yourself, it is the most stressful thing on the planet. The lighting has to be just perfect, no glare, perfect exposure. So I did that, ordered it online and then my order was delayed. I went to the store and found out their printer was making excess lines in the photos so I was going to have to wait. I did and got the photos about an hour later, but I had nothing short of a breakdown first. While I was at the store, I had to pick up wooden pencils, because mechanical ones aren’t allowed. I also picked up some really nice erasers, because reasons. And I can have a water bottle and some snacks, but everything I own has to be in a gallon ziplock. I can’t have anything electronic on my person, so I can only carry my keys, wallet, pencils, erasers, pencil sharpener, my admission ticket and my water and snack. That list makes me feel naked as a person. I rarely go anywhere without my phone, even if it’s just in my pocket and I don’t use it. Also, I’ve used mechanical pencils or years. Wooden ones are not my specialty. But I guess it’s alright, because I will be going to law school where I’m pretty sure they’re okay with me carrying mechanical pencils, pens and my phone.

Anyway, I guess I’m going to be away from social media for the next couple days and that’s my story. I’ll see you all on the other side of the weekend!

  

What’s My Age Again?

9 December 1992. It was a cold day in December, flurries and snowflakes abounded and as the sun disappeared, a lunar eclipse kissed the moon. In the chill, the bitter cold of night, there was a silence. A single snowflake fell to the ground, having caught the light of the blood red moon, and the world held its breath. Seconds passed, each one bringing the moon closer to the culmination of the eclipse, the tint caressing the moon with no inclination of saying goodbye. And right as the moon shone brightest, a scream rippled through the stark white hospital. The lights were dim, the sounds of Christmas carols humming through the radio and in a flurried rush, as the snowflakes outside the window, a baby was wrapped in a blanket, the jam-like innards having been sucked from her nose, her bottom having been smacked. That child, covered in goop, being rapidly wiped off and swaddled, was me. I came home in a Mickey Mouse shirt, which my mother graciously lets me keep in my clothes drawer with my socks.
My mother was told she could never have kids. I was both a surprise and a blessing (or so my parents tell me). I’m sure they really had no idea just how many surprises were to come to them on my behalf. I’ve been through every emotion and hair color, I’ve grown fond of coffee (if you couldn’t tell), I fell in love with music. I learned to play almost a dozen instruments, I even thought about being a music major in college, even auditioned. We always put the Christmas tree up after (or on) my birthday). And now, I live with my husband and life has changed so much since my earliest memories.

Last year on my birthday, I anxiously awaited the minute I turned 22 so that I could buy the Taylor Swift song. But as I approached this birthday, I realized that finding a “23” song would be much harder. So I began my search. As the title suggests, I found Blink-182 first and then Jimmy Eats World. But that song just wasn’t enough for me. I’m sure my sister would love for me to claim the R5 song “Wishing I Was 23” but I just can’t connect to it either. Next to reach the chopping block was “23” by Shakira. I’m a huge fan of Shak, and I really thought maybe this song would be it. But I kept looking-just in case. And then I landed on “Waiting” by Jamie Campbell Bower. And I think I have my song. 

Being 23 is already pretty stressful. I have another year just gone. I spent it being sucked down by my cowardice and anxiety, I found myself changing my mind-a lot, and I picked myself up after tons of times being metaphorically beaten down. But it’s gone, for better or worse and I can’t get it back. That’s really something to think about. It’s a scary world out there and I’ve missed another year. Or am I just another year closer to the best me I may ever be?

So my goals for year 23, are personal,more so than they have ever been. I want to break my shell once and for all. I want to get out and meet people, make eye contact and not be afraid of everyone. I want to work out more. Not so I can be skinny, but so I can be healthy. I want to be able to go into the next parts of my life in the best shape I can. I want to do something-like get my book published, or sell a song to a famous person, or even just go somewhere. And more importantly, I want to succeed. Less thana year from now, I’m applying to grad schools and law schools. I want more than anything to get in. I want to smile at the acceptance letter and realize I did it. I want to not be scared to drive. I have a CRAZY story to tell you all sometime about why I have worries driving, but today I shall not get into it. And I want to enjoy life. I don’t need to have “everything”-the perfect body, makeup, hair, and material goods. I just want to spend more mornings looking at the sunrise, more evenings staring up at the heavens and maybe, just maybe, finally learn how to play guitar.

All that I need is to be true to myself. And that is my favorite reason why I’m 23.

So come close, and I’ll scream

Oh just let me be me

And I fail to see

The dark skies aren’t all that dwell inside me

-Jamie Campbell Bower, Waiting

  

Thankfulness, Day 9

  
I first read The Fellowship of the Ring when I was in middle school. I was captivated by the story, even if it was just a smidge over my head. But this particular portion of thebook was lost to me completely. It wasn’t until the movie came out and the internet boomed that I even recalled ther was a poem. This is the most widely recalled line, and for good reason.

Today’s theme is aimlessness.

A few years ago, I did a facebook post on this very day about being thankful for being aimless. And I found it today, believing that I had been a genious. You see, in the end, it isn’t really the destination, is it? It’s always been about the journey. But so many footsteps are solidifying for me that I am enthralled by my own wanderings.

I started college Autumn 2011. I had to immediately withdraw (within the first week) because I listened to my peers and drank far too many energy drinks and my kidneys couldn’t handle it. I was in the ER multiple times, my PCP (Personal Care Physician) too and it was determined that my energy drink habits were killing me. Before that fall, I’d spent my summers drinking Monster BFCs (Big Effing Cans-the equivalent of 4 Monsters in one can) and Rockstars and Venoms (these were my favorite). I was always seen with one in my hand. Now it’s coffee and the occasional soda for me, marginalized by gallons of water.

I didn’t return to college (or technically even start college) until Winter 2012. We were still on quarters then. I was a bio major, determined to be a pediatric oncologist. My entire life was dedicated to this. Only my heart didn’t seem to be. For two years, I fought with deciding if I was doing the right thing with my life. Ultimately, I wasn’t. I had the heart for the job, the brains too, but it wasn’t what I longed for. And so I became an anthro major.

Even then my wandering (and wondering) was not over. What kind of anthropologist would I be? I couldn’t decide, wanted to do everything and ultimately picked cultural. But that isn’t to say I haven’t had a couple moments where physical sounded like a much smarter idea. Even this left some questions.

What would I focus on? People was far too broad a focus, culture wouldn’t work either. Religion. Now that could work. But what about it? Eventually, I landed on something both practical and interesting. Religious Extremism and Violence as a Diplomatic Interference. Now that sounds snappy, doesn’t it? I only really settled into that idea. Now comes the new wave of questions about jobs and such.

But as I said: it’s really all about the journey, anyway, isn’t it? Sometimes the lights have to go out, the path needs to disappear before we can find ourselves. There isn’t really a way to make it easier, or less scary. You just have to take the plunge. Interesting.