31,536,000 Moments

On this day last year I was on a plane to Puerto Rico for a photography trip. I spent my days taking photos of beautiful things and nights on the beach. I spent hours talking to a girl that ended up being a wack job and battling with my (then) current girlfriend who I broke up with shortly after. I quit my job at Friendly's, which later closed down. Had sex with one of my oldest friends. Went to a holiday party and unexpectedly met the most amazing girl. We dated for 5 months, but a happy ending wasn't in our cards. I lived with my best friend for 2 weeks while she was dealing with breaking up with her fiance who she later married and is about to deliver their first child. In California. Because she moved there. But not before we went on a weekend road trip to West Virginia, got in a freak car accident and ended up stranded for over a week until we had to spend a night roaming the streets of Philly before taking a series of trains back to CT. On Valentine's day. I finished my first year of college. And started my second. Decided that social work and psychology are my calling. Lived in Germany for 3 months as an au pair and met the most amazing people and where 2 little girls stole my heart (and so did one big one). One big one who taught me amazing things and showed me beautiful places and held my hand when I missed home. And when I came back I dated a girl I'd been dating before I left and we took her kids to the park and they called me mom. I realized we had different life plans and ended things and met the girl of my dreams. I cried and I laughed until I was sick to my stomach. And then there were the little, insignificantly significant things. Learning how to do something new. Jumping around on the bed like a 12 year old. Playing the same song, over and over again. Baths. Dances. Kisses. Getting lost in a foreign country. And crying about it. I could go on. Tell you all about every little thing. And I would. Except that there's actually a point to this post and it isn't telling you my whole life story.

You see, the thing about life stories? They're never as long as we'd hoped. It's no secret that life is short. We face constant reminders of this in our daily lives. Through words, through pictures, and through memories. Through laying in bed at the end of each day and knowing that there is nothing we can do to change the events of that day. In the knowledge that that day is already over and we will never see it again.

While we can choose to see this fact of life in a negative light, much like change there is also an option to see it positively. That is what I choose to do. Instead of wasting precious time dwelling on a fact that I simply can't change, I do my very best to live each and every moment to it's fullest potential. To suck it's marrow until there's nothing left, until it's bone dry. That way, at the end of every day, I lay in bed, yes, but instead of being saddened by the fact that it's a day I won't see again, I count all of the ways I made it the best day it possibly could have been. And then? I close my eyes and look forward to the next one.

Yes, life is short. Sometimes it feels as if you've only blinked and suddenly this huge chunk of time has disappeared and you now have less time left. If you're lucky, you get a hundred years to live. When you're small, that seems like forever. And then, as you get older, it doesn't seem nearly long enough. Sometimes it feels like a little bit of both.

But have you ever stopped and thought about just how much happens in a year? I don't mean just looking at two pictures, taken 365 days apart and noticing that your face has thinned out and that your nose looks slightly bigger, that your eyes look like they might have seen more, that behind them lies more wisdom...I mean really sat and reflected. Reflected on the things that you did and the lessons that you learned and the people you met and the times you put your whole heart into something. The nights that you spent hours lying in bed thinking, rather than dreaming. The hardships you thought you'd never get through, but somehow did. The things you knew better than to do, but did anyways and either suffered the consequences or reaped the fortunate benefits. All of the little things. Each of the 525,600 minutes. Well...have you?

For me, personally, I feel as though this year flew by faster than any other before it. At first thought, I felt like I'd blinked and suddenly everything had changed and nothing was the same and I had lost a whole year of this crazy thing called life. And I guess I still feel that way. But I also acknowledge and soak up all of the things that happened this year.

And it's impossible to remember everything. Every laugh, every tear shed, every promise broken, every promise made. Every time you were disappointed and every time you were pleasantly surprised because something or someone had exceeded your expectations beyond measure. You can't remember everything, but you can try. You can hold on to whatever memories you can and learn from them, laugh at them, but above all, cherish them. Because time does fly by. You do blink and suddenly something or everything seems to have disappeared. That's just the way things go. We're in a constant state of change, remember? And that's both devastating and breathtakingly beautiful.

365 days. That's all you get in a year. That's 8,760 hours, 525,600 minutes or 31,536,000 seconds. Each of those 31.5 million moments is precious. Make them count. Spend them laughing until you cry. Spend them learning, loving or doing whatever makes you happy. Just suck the marrow out of them. Bleed each moment dry. And then, every night, take a moment to revel in the knowledge that you made that day count for something. And after that? Close your eyes and dream. Tomorrow holds infinite possibilities...

But it's not promised. Remember that.

What's your life story? How are you writing it? If it ended today, would there be a happy ending?

Think about it.

Christmas Movies Galore!

It is no secret that this time of year-the holiday season-is my absolute favorite. I soak up every bit of it. I bathe in it until my fingers are pruny and the water's gone cold and even then I linger for a few more minutes, basking in it's glory. I love it.

There is just something so special about this time of year. Something which takes you back to your inner child and makes you believe that everything and anything is possible. People are friendlier. The air is merrier. It's just wonderful.

And eventually, I will post about just how much I love Christmas and all of the things that come with it. But right now, I want to talk about only one of the great things about Christmas: The movies.

I kid you not, I could watch holiday movies 24/7/365 and I would never tire. Even though certain story lines are completely played out and they start blending into one undistinguishable blur after a while, I. Love. Them.

The Christmas movie watching has only just begun and already I have added a few new favorites to my (already long) list. A list made up of a mosh pit of movies. Because when it comes to Christmas, I don't discriminate. We have the 'Classics': Miracle on 34th Street, White Christmas, A Wonderful World....The 'Funnies': A Christmas Story, Elf, Deck the Halls...The 'Romantic Comedies': Love Actually, The Holiday, The Family Stone...The 'Childhood Favorites': The Santa Claus (+2&3), Jack Frost, Home Alone (All of them) and others: This Christmas, Jingle All The Way, Four Christmases, The Grinch Who Stole Christmas and then the movies that aren't really Christmas movies, but feature Christmas-y things and so ''kind of sort of' count.

I am a Christmas movie junkie. I admit it. I also admit that there is no saving me. No going back. And I'm okay with that.

People who know me in real life probably already knew all of the above. What most people don't know, however, is that Barney's 'Waiting for Santa' circa 1990? One of my favorites. I watch it at least once a year.

Oh yes.

You see, I had a sad, sad love for Barney back in the day. Now that I'm older, I really don't understand how I was allowed to watch it. But I did. All the time. I had favorite episodes and VHS tapes and everything. One of those was Waiting for Santa.

Eventually, I outgrew Barney. I found out Santa wasn't real (LIES!) and, for a year, Christmas lost it's magic. But it started coming back. And then I started not caring about what was cool. So when I was maybe 12 or 13 I started thinking about that Santa movie every year at Christmas. I guess it just was one of those strange things that I associated with all of the amazing things about Christmas. I searched for it. Forever. Searched every child I could find's Barney Collection. But without avail. And then one day it occurred to me that it was probably somewhere online. So I tried Google and I found it. It was probably one of the most exciting moments of my life.

So every year I watch it.

And I don't even care what anyone thinks about that.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go dance like an elf.

If you want to watch it, start here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EQSB537w4Ws&feature=related (I highly recommend it.)

The Meaning of 'Gratitude'

Listen (on playlist below): Kind and Generous - Natalie Merhchant

While I'm tempted to start this post by keying away a rote list of things I'm thankful for today, doing so would be a bit prosaic for this place I'm at tonight. And it's exactly that-a place. Not just a state of mind or an emotion that bears this unworthy cliché title like 'Thankful' or 'Gratitude,' but an actual place. A place with its own longitude and latitude. A place where I have settled down and claimed residence and walked it's paths, met its people. And it's a good place. A real place, yes. One with dark corners and fixer-upper houses. But an overall good place. A place with so much beauty that it's overwhelming. And the longer I stay, the more beauty I see.

So while 'I'm Thankful For...' lists are perfectly wonderful and all, I feel like making my own would surely cheapen the beauty of this place I'm in tonight. And while I'm basking in the beauty of my own place tonight, I know so many others are in places equally as beautiful. And for that? For that I am certainly thankful. Thankful for the happiness of my family and friends.

And aren't family and friends what is truly important? I think so. I believe that there is an unwritten formula for holiday goodness. A formula which is certainly unique to each holiday- surely, there aren't equal parts holiday movies and song singing for both Christmas and Thanksgiving-but a formula which always contains an overabundant dose of family. For that reason, Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays, second only to Christmas, simply because Christmas contains a higher dose of 'family.'

I am from Plymouth, Massachusetts. Plymouth Rock and the Mayflower II are a less than 5 minute drive from the first house I ever lived in. So I like to think I know a thing or two about Thanksgiving. Even if we don't do the whole cooking-in-the-kitchen, fall place settings and fresh white linens thing, I like to think I know a thing about being thankful.

What does being thankful mean, though? If it were as easy as scribbling some words on a thank-you card or writing out a list once a year, I'd stock up on stationary and check 'Being Thankful' off of my to-do list. But while I'm all for thank-you cards and being grateful, I think it's so done. Like rattling off "I love you" before hanging up the phone every single time, depleting it of its real meaning. When does "I love you" really mean "I love you" and when does "Thank you" mean that kind of "Thank you" where you feel it in your bones? Where you want to kiss the universe and cement grateful moments into a place where they won't fade away over time?

I think the true meaning of being thankful-of gratitude-arrives on it's own. You can't try too hard to create it, you can't stress to much about conveying it. Gratitude is more abstract than that. But it is important. Perhaps one of the most valuable things that we as human beings can learn. Because it has a symbiotic relationship with another feeling we all hope to experience...happiness.

I think gratitude is recognizing every bit of wonder in our surroundings. From the way the sunlight feels warm against your skin to the way the light dances a ballet through the shades in the kitchen while you drink your coffee on a Sunday morning. And those moments of recognition-of being so fully aware that we are blessed and happy-those moments are gratitude in its purest form. Everything seems more vivacious, more purposeful, more pleasurable because we are so acutely aware of how happy we are.

Yes. I am happiest when I am most grateful. When I am aware of my surroundings and what, exactly, it is about this very moment that makes me feel content. Sending a thank-you card might encourage me to express gratitude to someone else, but really? Gratitude is a way of life rather than a lesson on a check-off list of things we ought to master throughout our lifetimes. So the best way to learn it? It's to live it. Not just one day a year spent sitting around a table with those that you love, but all 365. Even in the moments that are more 'dark corners and fixer-upper houses' than they are 'beautiful winding paths and friendly neighbors.'

Sometimes "Thank you" sounds like "This is delicious." Or "That sky is breathtaking." Or even, "I love your smile." Today, "Thank you" sounds like the sound of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on the television during breakfast. Today, "Thank you" sounds like everyone bustling around asking where the hair dryer is and who gets to shower next. It sounds like the clinking of glasses broken up by spontaneous laughter at the dinner table. It sounds like the football game on TV, the statement of a score received on a word during a family game of Scrabble, the crackling of the fireplace and the clunky sound of a mug of hot chocolate being placed on the coffee table. It's the sound of gurgling full stomachs and yawns as it gets late. And sometimes? Sometimes "Thank you" can't be heard at all. Sometimes it's in a smile shared with a stranger or a thought had in the last moments before sleep.

Today is full of both loud and silent "Thank yous." It is full of tradition. It is full of family. It is full of holiday goodness and happiness. And while there is certainly a heavier dose of grateful today, being grateful ought to extend into our every day lives. So celebrate the breathtaking skies, the beautiful smiles and the winding paths and friendly neighbors. Celebrate this place. This place of gratitude. Of knowing where you've been and where you're going and in between all that, that recognizing where we are is important. That where we are is worth being thankful for.

I love this place.

Traveling

I knew when I set out to write this post that my words would never live up to the feeling I was trying to convey. I couldn't do it in the silence of an empty room, let alone while battling Sesame Street with Katie Herzig. But I wrote it anyway for a few different reasons. And besides, I know that anyone who knows what I'm talking about will understand just fine. They'll know the feeling of the world standing still. The feeling of every breath you've ever taken leading up to this moment.

That being said...

Anyone who knows me knows I love to travel. And by "travel" I do not mean 'vacation.' While soft, bleach white sand between toes painted Dutch Tulip Red is fantastic and while I love a good margarita enjoyed beach side in the middle of December, it's not the end means, it's not the 'vacation', I'm speaking of. It's the means of getting there. The journey, if you will.

There is just something about the feeling of going somewhere that is so exciting. Maybe it's the promise of memories to be made. Maybe it's temporarily leaving behind everyday worries and constantly growing to-do lists. Maybe it's a combination of the two and then a million other things, additionally. I don't know.

What I do know is that I feel so at peace listening to music, writing, reading and staring out of windows for any amount of time. The longer, the better. A lot of people complain about 8 hour flights and 15 hour car rides. Me? I complain because they're not long enough. To me, a 15 hour car ride is an early birthday present.

And traveling at night? Traveling at night is the icing on the cake. The cherry on top. It's a birthday, Halloween and Christmas combined. It's pee-your-pants exciting.

I love airports. I love rest stops. I love neat little stores you come across when you get lost that you just have to stop at. In my eyes, it's all good. There's no 'bad' in traveling. Because, I mean, who wants to stay stuck in place? Whether physically or metaphorically, everyone wants to go somewhere.

Change, quickly.

Both the world that we live in and the lives that we are living are in a constant state of change. And while sometimes we fear change and would love nothing other to slam the door in it's eager face, at the end of every day we must remember that things change for a reason.

We must remember that great things come out of change. That, without it, there would be no black president because african americans would still be sitting in the back of the bus and drinking from separate water fountains, relieving themselves in different bathrooms. That women wouldn't have the right to vote. That people wouldn't be complaining about the government because they wouldn't have a constitutional right to do so-and if they chose to do so anyway, they'd likely be beaten and/or thrown in jail. And while same-sex love is still far from being widely accepted, we have come a long way....All thanks to change.

Change is and is in everything. In the way the leaves turn from forest green to the most brilliant of pinks, oranges and yellows before falling off their creators altogether. In the way that a baby learns to walk, talk and, eventually, count, read, and live independently. It's in the stories our minds paint each night while we're asleep, and the way the tide turns. It's in growing hands and thinning faces. It's in making the switch from counting with beads to counting with fingers to counting in your head. It's in marriage and reproduction. Change is in raises and promotions, in relationships, friendships. In love and in loss. In everything.

Not all change is good. People die. Snow storms happen in October. We grow apart. Marriages end. People, themselves, change. But whether it is good or bad, or even a mixture of the two, change will come. That is fact. It's not something we can control. We can, however, control the way we deal with it. Each day we can make the conscious effort to look change in the eye, smile and embrace it with open arms. To take it, examine it and learn and grow from it. To accept it. Or we can run scared. We can curse it, blame it, harbor resentment towards it. Drown ourselves in it. We can let it be a part of us or we can let it control us. The choice is ours.

And even though change isn't a choice, even though it's inevitable, we mustn't forget that even in the things that change, there is stability. That tides change, but that the waves will always roll in and out. That leaves will always fall and babies will always grow. That people will always count, somehow. The sun will always rise in the east and set in the west. That much is promised.

Yes, it's hard sometimes. Especially when things don't turn out the way we want them to. But we must remember that it is all for a reason. That there is a bigger picture. And that, when it's hard, we must hold on and keep our heads held high instead of giving up. Because, eventually? Things change.

"Old Soul"

People often throw around the phrase "Old soul" and, while I don't know that I believe in souls in the religious sense of the word, I think the phrase describes me well.

There has never been a day in my life that I have felt my age. I've never been 5 and felt 5, never been 10 and felt 10. I didn't feel 15 when I was 15 and, sure as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, I do not feel 19.

Sure in moments, in minutes, even in hours, when I'm caught up in something or someone I feel like all of the pieces of the puzzle are there, feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be. But it doesn't last. Soon enough I am struck by just how little I have in common with the people I call my peers.

It doesn't bother me that I prefer the company of 30 year olds over 20 year olds. It doesn't bother me to date someone and have their kids call me Mama even though they're only 14 and 16 years younger than I am. It doesn't bother me that I preferred talking to teachers over fellow students back in high school or that in my summer camp days, I befriended counselors over cabin mates. It doesn't bother me because it's just how it has always been.

One of the great things about the college I go to is that the majority of my classmates aren't 19. Some are married, some have kids, many have life experience. They can hold intelligent conversations, get coffee instead of hot chocolate, and many know what's going on in the world. I love that. Of course, there are the typical 18-21 year olds, too. But it's possible to steer clear of the ones you want to and, if there's anything I've learned over the past 19 years, it's how to spot another "Old soul."

So, of course, I do have friends my own age. And most of them are wonderful, even if just in very small doses. But the greater majority of them act so young every once in a while that I can't stand to be around them. That, and, a lot of the time, we have extremely different ideas of what constitutes as "fun".

My ideal Friday night is not one spent at a club, wearing a dress that's 2 inches too short and stilettos that are 2 inches past comfortable, dancing under lights that, swear to God, could give someone a seizure. I don't want to get "wasted" or have some drunk girl hanging all over me. None of it is appealing to me, in the least. I would much rather be at home, wearing sweats and fuzzy socks and sitting in the kitchen with my girlfriend, making dinner and eating it and talking about interesting things and articles we've recently read. And the only dancing I want to be doing on a Friday night is to Johnny Cash or Ani DiFranco in the living room. With dim, non seizure-inducing lighting. Maybe followed by cuddling on the couch while watching a romantic comedy and enjoying a glass of wine. Night complete with a game of Scrabble, reading in bed and sleep at an acceptable hour.

So the fact that I'm currently hiding out and writing this post from a bathroom stall in a club on a Friday night while some girl empties the contents of her stomach in the stall next to me is anything but appealing. There's not enough vodka in the world to make this "fun". I want to be at home doing all of the aforementioned things. Taking care of my sick girlfriend. Taking a candle lit bubble bath. Anything and anywhere but here.

But I was dragged here, by friends my 'age', which, according to many (primarily, my mother), I need more of. The words "You need to stop acting like you're 40 and live a little bit" are used more than I'd like to admit. But, the thing is, unlike her, I don't see it as a character flaw. Sure, it's annoying at times. Sure, it was cause for bullying when I was in primary school. Sure, it gets tiring to "act my age", but I like it all the same. I like that my mom's friends come to me for advice. I like that I can date women in their late twenties and early thirties and spend Friday night "Date night's" making dinner and watching movies. That a date can consist of taking 'our' kids to the zoo or taking the kids to the Rainforest Cafe on a Saturday night as a special treat.

I don't mind living my life on fast forward. In fact, I can't wait to be settled into a career, a house and a family. Friday night movie nights and Saturday morning soccer games and family game nights on Saturday night. Lazy Sunday mornings in bed with the kids, brunch and all of that? I want it yesterday. And even though I'm stuck living my "40 year old" dream in a 19 year old I-Still-Have-Forever-Left-In-College body, even though I have to live my life just as slowly as everyone else and even though that certainly gets annoying-especially on nights like tonight-I don't mind. I don't mind at all. I love being an "Old soul."

Stressed.

I am stressed. In absolutely every single sense of both the word and phrase. And I'm well aware that everyone else's lives are stressful as well-even if it seems like everyone else seems to have it all together-so don't think that I think that the feeling is unique to me. Because I don't. However, I'm about to vent in a way that may seem like I do. So if you hate whiny, vent-y, my-life-is-crap posts, I wouldn't suggest wasting your time reading this. However, if you are the kind of person who believes misery loves company or the kind of person who feels better about their own life after hearing about others, read on....

So. Where was I? Oh. Right. I'm totally and (potentially) irrevocably stressed.

You see, I'm not the kind of person who, when they feel overwhelmed, breaks things up into little 'tackle-able' piles and lists. I'm the kind of person who makes a list, remembers additional things she's forgotten, looks at what is now an even bigger picture and drowns in an episode of Grey's Anatomy. Or 10. Because it's easier. And then, as deadlines approach and things pile up and I'm finally forced to face whatever it is I've been procrastinating doing, I get even more stressed. I am currently at part deux. I am also at breaking point.

I know everyone reaches this point at least once in their lives. That everyone considers packing their bags and hopping on the next train, quitting whatever crap job they're stuck working, and doing something exotic and interesting and different. But not many people have the balls, the courage, the faith, the optimism, the whatever to do so. Most of us are lacking something which holds us back and keeps us safe and miserable-yet-secure in our tiny little boxes. I, for one, envy the people who are able to buy the train ticket because I'm certainly not one of them. I'm too much of a 'big picture' person. However, I'm also the kind of person who thinks the little things ARE the big picture. That every decision we make, every chance we don't take and every move we make, affect our outcome. (I'm well aware that I'm a walking contradiction.) So, as much as I'd love to go and do charity work in Tibet rightthisveryminute I know there are a thousand things I need to take care of first. Tibet is currently very low on my priority list and very high on my desire list.

So what is my priority list? I honestly don't know. I get so anxious at the thought of all of the things I have to do and juggle that I can't take the time to sort, prioritize and discard. Even though I know doing so will be beneficial and stress-relieving in the long term. There's just so much. I'm stretched thin with being a full-time student, a part-time, on-call nanny and babysitter, working at Pinkberry, my internship, being on the executive board of a brand new club at my college, my romantic life, my family life, my (currently non-existant) social life, etc etc etc.

My life is jam packed with essays and research papers and midterms and daycare observations and lesson plans and coordinating social events and communicating with the whole world and typing up proposals and an internship I haven't started yet, but which is already stressing me out because even though I'm psyched to be doing it, I don't have the time for it, which means stretching myself even thinner. Add in playground trips and diaper changes and potty training accidents and cooking dinner and art projects and games and baths and story reading plus swirling and topping and serving frozen yogurt-smile included-plus a girlfriend I never see, family I live with but don't have time for and friends constantly sending texts and writing on walls asking where I am and why they haven't seen me. The answer is that I'm doing all of the above while trying to keep my life (and room) neat and organized and clean because I'm OCD about certain things, not completely breaking down and maintaining my sanity all at the same time. And when you add in things like searching through 7 Rubbermaid's for a missing navy blue knee-sock to complete an outfit that you've thrown together for tomorrow, writing poetry and listening to music during hot baths that allow you to relax and a million other things, that's difficult. Something has seriously got to give.

The worst part is that I'm missing out on things that I love. I'm so stressed I can't process my own thoughts, let alone satisfy my creative juices. I hardly ever have time to pick up my camera, and when I do, I certainly don't have the time to edit them! I currently have thousands of pictures to edit. From last weeks snow fall, to last month's trip to the Adirondacks, to last summer's trip to Austria while I was living in Germany, to last YEAR'S photography trip to Puerto Rico.

I'm so behind in all of the things I love. And I'm so behind in the things I hate, but that matter. And my priorities are totally out of whack and I don't know what to do first or what to do last and I am seriously considering just becoming a crackhead, drug dealer/stripper because I feel like that is my easiest way out of this mess that I'm in.

And even though this post isn't 'good writing' or 'fluid' or anything at all like the post I'd been envisioning when I first married fingers with keyboard. it's honestly been wonderful to just get this out on 'paper'. Even if no one is actually going to read it. Because right now, in this crazy, hectic life of mine, writing things down is the only way I can even begin to make sense of the ever-growing mess of thoughts and to-do's running through my head. So it's what I'm doing. Because it's at least a start, right?

And tomorrow, once I've finished my laundry and tackled some school work and showered and gotten home from work and kicked off my shoes and relaxed a bit, I may just return to this entry and see if I can't try and make tackle-able piles out of it all. Maybe. But for now, I'm going to continue my pity party and have a few moments of thoughtless, stress-free bliss. An hour (or two) which will consist of a hot, candle-lit bath complete with music and book-reading, catching up on TV shows, painting my toe nails, having a good cry and who knows what else?

In the End...

(Music to come)

Last night, I was playing 21 questions with a new friend. We only got to question 3 before it got late, but she gave me the question and told me she was going to sleep and that she'd read and reply as well as give her answer in the morning. I told her I'd forget in the morning, but that I'd wait a while and send my answer after I was sure she was asleep. After an hour, I started typing. By the time I finished, it had been almost an hour and the text was 4,147 characters long.

You might think that's ridiculous. Gasp or speak the words, "Teenagers these days..." with an unsubtle hint of horror/judgement and a wave of your hand. But to me? It wasn't. For me, it was a wonderful reminder and chance to reflect on what is truly important to me.

The question? "How would you spend the last day of your life?"

So without further ado:

"How I'd Spend the Last Day of My Life"

by Cassidy Taylor Capen

"I'm not quite sure if you mean if someone told me I had 24 hours left on this planet or something else. I suppose it doesn't matter if I'm conscious of the fact that it's my last...

While there is a very large part of me that would like to attempt to cross off as many things on my bucket list as I possibly could, I think that's quite foolish. The victory would be short-lived and who's to say I would even remember it? It's meaningless. I would cross off one thing, two tops. Preferably one with a family member or someone truly special. I wouldn't dedicate more than 2 hours to it though.

After that, I would gather up my close family and friends and go speed grocery shopping. Get all of my favorite foods and stuff! I'd want to be done in 45 minutes or less!

In hours 3-9 I would steal a school bus and all of us get on and drive up to our time share in Stowe, Vermont and (unless it was week 42 or the last week of august) pay them to give us a place for the day. (Now you may think this is a waste. Why not home? Well, a) The 5.5 hours in a school bus. No one can leave or get up. I could have everyone right there. We could sing stupid songs and have fun! B) I love Stowe. C)It's smaller than my house. See a. D)I have to steal something, right? Plus, that plays in later!)

So once we were all settled in we'd spend the time playing board games and sharing stories and eating all the crap food I wanted because who cares if I gain a thousand pounds? We'd have a dance party and sing mic-less karaoke and laugh until we peed our pants. Then, when it got down to 4-5 hours, I'd take a super snappy shower (2 minutes!) and get in my comfiest clothes or steal someone else's.

I'd spend the first 30 or so minutes with my best friend telling her all the things I want her to do for me and all the things I love about her and how grateful for her I am. Then, I'd make a phone call to someone who wouldn't be there...(or maybe she would) and tell her a bunch of stuff she already knows. Mainly, that I love her. Then I'd do the same with my girlfriend if I had one, if not I'd go straight my dad. And then my mom. And I'd talk to her until I had just 1 hour left. At which point I would go and say goodbye to everyone there aside from my mom, dad, step-dad, brother, best friend, ____ if she was there and my girlfriend if I had one. For the remainder of the time, I would cuddle up in the master suite with the people I love most and just talk, laugh, cry and tell everyone what I want them to do with my body etc. and tell them I love them until I drifted off. (I'd tell them I wanted to be cremated. That I'd want my ashes to be divided in half and then one half set aside. That I'd want the first half to be divided into 4 equal parts for the four elements- Earth, Wind, Fire and Water. The first, water, I'd want thrown into the North Atlantic from Plymouth, Mass. The second, wind, I'd want to be thrown up into the wind at the top of our mountain in Stowe, Vermont. The third, earth, I'd want to have a some trees and flowers planted in Munich, Germany and I'd want them to be in with the soil there. And last, fire, I'd want to be sent up in fireworks off of the Seven Seas Lagoon beach at the Polynesian Resort in Disney World. With the other half of my ashes, I'd tell them to divide them into two parts. One part to be given in urns to whomever wanted them and the other part to be put in an urn which I'd want buried at a cemetery and topped with a basic headstone, just so people have a place they could come to to talk to me if they needed to. I think thats healing and aside from the personal urns, it would be the only tangible place I actually was.)

After that, everyone would probably stay there or something, I'm not sure. But eventually they'd all have to take the bus back to the 5.5-6 hours to my house. I think that would be good for everyone to be together. I hope they wouldn't cry though. Just laugh."

I apologize for spelling, grammatical and punctuation errors. It was typed on an iPhone between 115 and 210am and I didn't proofread it before sending it either to it's rightful recipient or my email. And I wasn't going to do it now. The only thing I bothered to change was a name: ____. But you get the gist. :)

Maybe it was silly. Maybe I should have been sleeping. Maybe my "plans" will change. But I am quite grateful that she asked the question that she did. I desperately needed the reminder that answering it provided. The reminder that things aren't as bad as they sometimes seem. That a lot of my worries are, in the end, irrelevant.

Prescribing Happiness

Song: Everyone's At It - Lily Allen

If someone wrote you a prescription for happiness, would you take it? Would you graciously thank your doctor, discreetly tuck it into a pocket in your purse and carry it around while you did groceries, exchanged clothes and did errands, before finally landing at the pharmacy? Would you march up to the pharmacy counter, pull out that slip of paper, give the pharmacist your name and browse the aisles of CVS or Walgreens for 15-20 minutes, anxiously awaiting a smile, a laugh, some pep in your step?

Well, would you?

I have. I've sat in a doctors office and had someone tell me they've got a pill to "fix" me in some way. Far too many times. A pill to make me happy, a pill to help me do better in school, a pill to make me prettier...To which I ask, where's the pill that makes me feel beautiful? The pill that gives me straight A's? The pill that allows me to feel content with my life instead of constantly wanting to trade with someone else? Anyone else?

Put that way it all sounds ridiculous. You can't prescribe those things. (Can you?) Maybe in some cases they help, but who's to say it's not all completely psychosomatic instead of chemical? And why is it that physicians these days are so quick to label, diagnose and medicate? I just don't see how that solves anything. Instead of allowing someone to work things out for themselves, we allow them to grow dependent on tiny capsules in a bottle.

I've been on anti-anxiety medicine for as long as I can remember and have been put on Prozac twice. And the honest truth is that I do feel happier when I'm on it. I don't get frustrated at stupid things, or want to punch things or cry all of the time. I'm more keen to get out of bed in the morning, I feel better about my life and myself. But then I think about the fact that it's all coming from a tiny pill and I think to myself that that makes me even worse. That I'm unattractive, unable to focus, unhappy and in need of a stupid little inanimate thing to fix me because I'm incapable of doing so myself. And that makes me feel weak. I hate feeling weak. So I stop taking them.

The thing is though, I want to be happy. I like being happy. I like getting the sudden urge to skip like a school girl. I like laughing at the silliest of little things. I like not arguing all of the time, not crying all of the time and not breaking things. I like when the sun shines brighter, the sky seems bluer and the grass smells fresher. I like stopping to smell the roses.

And so I'm faced with a dilemma: Do I try and play my own Superhero, try to prove to myself that I'm not weak...That I am, in fact, strong, capable, and worthy of something? Or do I accept a piece of paper, discreetly tuck it into a pocket in my purse, and let tiny capsules in a bottle do the work for me even though I don't believe in attempts to prescribe away life?

If someone prescribed you happiness, what would you do?

A Letter To My Younger Self

Songs: 100 Years - Five for Fighting & Fifteen - Taylor Swift.

Dear 15-year-old me,

I know life is hard right now and things don't look like they'll ever get better. I know you can't see the light at the end of the tunnel or the silver lining. But there is light, and that silver lining? Well, I've never seen anything more beautiful.

You've conquered one battle. A battle that is unfathomable to some and impossible for most. But you are not most. You are strong and you will make it through. No, the war’s not over yet and yes, you've still got a few hurdles left in this leg of the race. But you will clear them. You will finish the race and you will come out smiling. And the fact of the matter is, the hardest part is already over: She’s already gone.

Everyone knows loss on some level. You know it on a huge one. This is not an excuse to pity yourself or not feel sympathy or compassion towards others. In fact, the opposite is true. It makes you capable of loving bigger, better and harder. So that's exactly what you should do. Fall in love with everything. The way the sun feels on your skin, the sound of leaves crunching in the fall, the moments where you can't stop laughing even though you can. not. breathe. The moment when you’re driving with the top down and your favorite song comes on the radio, that first wave, the wind in your hair and the sand in your toes…Fall in love with everything and anything you can. And don't be afraid to give your heart away.

The first time you fall in love (with a person) it will take you a while to see what's been right in front of your eyes. You will question if loving this person is okay. Not because of the fact that she is a girl, but because of the role that she plays in your life. But love is always okay. No matter what other people say.

So this woman? She's going to turn your world upside down and teach you so many things. Most importantly she will teach you what it is to love someone more than you love yourself. Keep that with you because things won't work out. (But you'll know that from the day you meet her. And don't you dare let that stop you.) You will never stop loving her. Nor will you ever stop loving the girl that comes along a few girlfriends after her. (Things don’t work out with her either.) But that’s a good thing. You must know love to feel pain and you must know pain to feel pleasure and you must know pleasure to feel sorrow and you must know sorrow to know happiness. So don’t be afraid to give your heart out over and over again because you’ll learn something new every time. And when you feel like you’ve learned everything you had to? Well, then you’re with The One. Hold her close and don’t let go.

Be adventurous and take the chances that come to you. In January 2011 you will be offered a chance to work as an au pair in Germany. You won’t be sure whether or not you want to leave your family and friends and everything ‘familiar’ in life. But you should take the job. You will get there and you will fall in love with two extremely adorable little girls who will sometimes push your limits, but who, in moments, will overwhelm your heart with so much adoration and love you won’t know what to do with yourself. In the moments when you’re frustrated and you miss home and you just want to lock them in their room and book a flight home, hold them closer instead of pushing them away. I swear their cuddles could cure cancer. (But don’t let this keep you from saying no when it’s needed. And trust me…it’s needed.)

Stand up for what you believe in and never let anyone break you. People will try to push you down. Sometimes so they can play the hero when they pick you back up and sometimes just so they can kick you while you’re down. Don’t let them kick you. Fight. You have a good head on your shoulders and despite your loss and hardships you have been blessed. Use your blessings to bless others. You can do a world of good. You’ve already started.There is so much to say: never go to bed angry, learn from your brother, don’t waste your energy on negative things, don’t hurt yourself-there are people in your life who will do it for you, never feel guilty about being happy, substances don’t make problems disappear, dance like no one’s watching-even when you know they are, listen to your mother, learn from your mistakes…but these are all lessons that you will learn and should learn on your own and with time. The lessons may not always be easy, but you’ll weather the storms well and you will benefit from all of them. Promise.

You are strong and compassionate and intelligent and although you make mistakes, you learn from them. And you will be okay because of these things. And you will be okay period. Just keep looking for that light and once you find it, don’t let it out of your sight. Run towards it with all that you’ve got. And once you reach it, once you’re safe inside it? Don’t be embarrassed to throw your arms up in the air and do a victory dance. The people who will judge you for doing so don’t matter and the people who matter won’t judge you for it. The people who are worth keeping around might even join you. Let them.

And remember: fall in love. With everything.

Love,

Your (almost) 19-year-old self.

PS: This year (your 19th year) is your best year (so far). You will grow and learn more than you dreamed. You’ll love bigger and better. You’ll start becoming the person you were destined to be. So as you prepare to turn 18, prepare for a whole lot of awesome to come your way.

PPS: I'll keep you posted.

Songs: Kiss Me - Six Pence None The Richer & I Do Not Hook Up - Kelly Clarkson

Sometimes in the moments when the quiet rolls in like fog: quick and without warning, and totally unnoticeable until you're caught in the middle of it, I find myself thinking of you. Every time my guard is even slightly down, sometimes even unbeknownst to me, my thoughts rewind to the past. To us. It's unfair, really, the way they take advantage. The way they kick me when I'm already down. But that's how it goes, I guess. You never forget your first love and so when thoughts of her hurt so much that you actively avoid thinking them every single day, a time of weakness is the only time they can make their way to light. And when they do, when they creep in as quiet as a cat on it's haunches, unnoticeable until they're staring you straight in the eye, until the wind has already been knocked out of you and left you breathless...it kills.

When I'm laying in bed at night, tossing and turning in my sleepless stupor, contemplating the meanings and lessons of life, you have a way of finding me. Of knocking on my door. Some nights I welcome you in, invite you to stay for a while. I smile at past memories. Of songs sang in your car. Of jokes we shared. Of all the moments where no one else mattered and it was just us. But on other nights, on the nights where I'm feeling particularly weak, I do my best to slam my door in your face. To turn all of the locks as if that will somehow keep you from knocking the door down the exact same way you did last time. But we both know it's not going to work. You've always been my strength, but you've also always been my weakness.

It's been a year, almost to the day, since my world came crashing down. Since I felt like I'd never be able to pick it back up again. Since I felt so empty I was sure I couldn't be alive anymore. And every time I think of you I still feel just as empty. My heart crashes like a waterfall, breaking into the same million pieces again and again every time I start to feel strong and less alone. I still get the same sinking feeling when I hear the songs we sang to. I still feel the same butterflies when I hear your name. All of it just as strong as the day I met you. And just as strong as the day we said goodbye.

I will always love you. You will always be number one. Forever the person who taught me what it was to love someone besides myself. Forever the first person I would choose to spend my last moments with just for the comfort your company would offer, the strength you'd provide by just being there. Forever the first person I ever felt completely understood by and completed by. Forever a holder of my heart. But we were not forever. There is someone else out there who has taken a piece of my heart, a new holder. And there are holders yet to come. And although there have been a million moments where you've made me feel strong, understood and invincible, there have been a million since where you've had me at my weakest. And although I can still say right now that I'd choose you, each day I find myself relying on others more and more. Opening myself up, letting you go. I'll never be able to completely, I know that. Just like I'll never let go of the girl I loved after you. But I have loved since. And I will love again...

I said to someone last night, "You will find love again. Always. In unexpected places, on the shittiest day when you feel like there's nothing left to live for and no one else to love you, love will find you again. Surprise you and turn your world upside down again. And you will love more than you ever have and more than you ever thought you could and every time it will surprise you." And I meant it. And after I said it I laid in bed in one of those sleepless stupors and for the first time I realized that that applied to me too, and not just the amazing person I said it to. It's true for all of us: The Brokenhearted. Our wounds will never heal completely, but when you stub your toe, if you pinch your arm the pain in your toe disappears because the pain has been replaced. And new love does the same to old love.

And you? You are old love. Yes, you were my first and you will always mean more to me than words could even come close to describing, but the thing about first loves is that they're not nearly as important or significant as last loves. I know there will come a time when the silences in the middle of the night are filled with someone else. When you don't come knocking as often as a close friend, but as rarely as a neighbor in need of an egg who doesn't want to run to the supermarket. And that's okay with me. I know I will be alright because you taught me that I was something special. That I was intelligent and valuable and strong. You taught me that I can stand alone. And so I'm standing.

Thank you for that.

I am.

Song: We R Who We R - Ke$ha

People often tend to look at us as who we are as a whole. The problem with that is that who we are? It's not one big thing. It's a million little things. It's the communities we consider ourselves a part of. It's where we go to cry. It's the jokes we make and the jokes we laugh at, it's the music we listen to, it's when and where we feel alone. It's the things that make us tick, it's your favorite things, it's an ability to laugh so hard at a boob-shaped M&M that you're left gasping for oxygen on the ground in the lobby of your high school during your lunch period one day during your junior year.

Who we are is the color we paint our nails most often, it's the people we look up to, and the people we aspire to be when we grow up. It's the stuffed animal laying next to our pillow, the background on our laptop, the messages in our phones. It's everything we do, say, hear, feel, touch, remember, build, tear down. Who we are is EVERYTHING. It's every memory. Every hope. Every dream. Every disappointment. Every heartache and night spent laying on your back in bed daydreaming. Who we are is everything. It's even not knowing who we are.

I often ask myself that question: Who AM I? And furthermore, who am I going to be? And I don't really know. But that's okay with me. Because I know this: I am the kind of person who watches an episode of Oprah and feels connected to every member of the audience, just for the fact that I know that they love, respect and appreciate her. That they've been shaped by her, just like I have and do. I know that I cry at every little thing because I am compassionate and I love seeing other people happy. I know that I'm not a lover and I'm not a fighter, but a unique mixture of the two. I know that I find water when I want to cry-either the beach or the shower. That I am sarcastic. That I country music is not only something I listen to, but is a part of who I am. I know that my favorite color switches between pink, pale yellow and white. That I LOVE italian and chinese food. That I love to sail and write poetry and take pictures. That I like to make other people happy. I am my memories. I am that ridiculous looking M&M. I am an Oprah fan. I am a country girl at heart. I am a hopeless romantic, a bitch, a sweetheart...I am everything. And everything is me.

So who are you?

Do You Still Feel Small?

Song: I Hope You Dance - Le Ann Womack

I have always loved the beach. The crashing of the waves. The fluidity in the way that they roll in. The sand in my toes. The salt in my hair. I love not just being physically at the beach, but near one. Just knowing it's around brings a sort of peace, a distinct beach-y calmness.

Some of my favorite memories are of late night walks along the shoreline, of walking barefoot from here to there trying not to step on shells, of searching for sea glass, of beautifully broken shells. Of swimming with my grandfather. Of sailing and weaving my way around other boats in the harbor until I reach the open sea. How when you stand beside the ocean, you realize just how small and insignificant your problems are. How big and beautiful and breathtaking the world is.

There is not a single bad thing about the beach. Not one. It never makes anything worse. Instead, things can only go up when you go to the beach. And they do. And this week, they did.

The past week, my last week in the states, has been particularly stressful. And Wednesday night, my mother and I stopped tiptoeing around the eggshells we'd been...tiptoeing around....and all. hell. broke. loose. Choice words filled the air, things were thrown, tears were shed. It was horrible. Beyond that, even. But the next morning we went to the beach as planned, for our sanity, and after an hour, we were back to solid.

I have to thank the beach for that. And for the majority of my fondest memories. I have to thank the beach for not only keeping me sane, but making me happy.

Do you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean?

It Gets Better

Songs: Darlin' - Avril Lavigne & Fight For This Love - Cheryl Cole

Have you ever felt helpless? Totally, completely and unchangeably helpless? Like nothing you did or nothing you said could change anything? Or worse, like there was nothing you could do, nothing you could say?

Maybe you've looked at the sink and wondered why, no matter what you do, it's dirty and gross. Maybe you've walked out of your bedroom at 230am and found yourself face-to-face with one of the biggest spiders you've ever seen. Maybe you've lain awake in bed at night, dying for some shut-eye, but you just couldn't sleep. Maybe someone has done everything in their power to make sure you can't be with the person you love. And maybe that person has a whole lot of authority.

I've found myself feeling helpless more times than I'd like to admit over the past few days. I've stared helplessly at the filthy sink I JUST cleaned. I've stared helplessly at a not-so-'Itsy Bitsy'-spider at 230am. I've lain in bed totally exhausted, but totally unable to sleep. And I've had someone with a lot of authority tell me I can't be with the person that I love. And that's just the beginning.

Nearly 6 months ago, I walked into a room, not sure of whether I was going to stay or turn around and walk right back to the car I'd just stepped out of instead. But as soon as I did, I felt this magnetic pull. I whipped around so fast I swear I could have slipped a disk and saw a set of really long legs in gray Ugg boots. And even though I hadn't seen her face, I thought to myself, "I have to meet this girl." An hour or so later, the perfect opportunity to talk to her arose and during a game that involved the exchanging of Mardi Gras beads and a fact the other person wouldn't know by looking at us (which later became a game we played when we were bored) I took it and introduced myself. I walked right up and said, "My name is Cassidy and something you wouldn't know just by looking at me is that I liked kissing girls before Katy Perry did." She was beautiful, funny and charming. Far too beautiful to be anything but straight and far too funny and charming to have any interest in me even if she wasn't. But I got her number and she texted me the whole way home and non-stop for the next few days. On New Years Day I asked her to play 21 Questions and my 21st question was "Will you be my girlfriend?" She said, "Yes" and I've always called her my Eleven-Eleven Wish (1-1-11).

Throughout the 5.5 months we were together, we exchanged poems and songs and "things you wouldn't know by looking at me." We planned our wedding and our family and the future that lay ahead of us. I loved her and she loved me. Unfortunately, her mother did not love us. She forbade us from being together and said we could just be friends. We stayed together and kept our relationship a secret.

Saturday, I received a message on Facebook around 10am that her mother had taken her phone. And been through it. I ignored it and figured her mom would come around, that she would realize how much I loved her daughter and be happy for that. I couldn't have been more wrong. Instead she gave her a few hours to say goodbye to me and forbade her to speak to me. I have never felt so helpless in my life.

I knew there was nothing I could do, nothing I could say, to change our situation. I couldn't go back in time and tell her to do her laundry. I couldn't call up her mom and plead my case. As far as I was concerned in those first few hours, my life as I knew it was over. I laid on the bathroom floor sobbing and 'watching' all of my dreams fade to dust, for an hour. And then I spent a few more hours laying in bed doing the same. I was helpless. Nothing I could do, nothing I could say.

And then the next morning I woke up to a message from her sent from a friends phone and I realized there was still hope for us. That I could talk to her through those friends. Maybe not every day, but once in a while at least and that is far better than nothing. I have her on Facebook still, and I'm not sure why. But every time I click refresh I dread not seeing her name on my contact list.

I no longer hold confidence in our plans for the future. I have certainly not lost hope, but I have accepted the fact that she may not be the person I walk down the aisle with. That she may not be the one squeezing my hand and whooo-whooo-heeeeing alongside me as I give birth to our first child. She may not be my co-pilot on spontaneous Sunday road trips with the kids, the one I lay in bed with until the kids come piling in for family cuddles on Saturday mornings, or the person who I look at over my little girl's head as we get her on the school bus and catch gazes with and smile at. We may not grow old together. And that's sad. And leaves me feeling a little bit helpless. But I have also realized that even if she isn't a part of those dreams, that doesn't mean those dreams have to change.

I know that if our plans are meant to play out, if we are really meant to be together, we will be. And that in that case, this will just be something we look back on with sad smiles as we sit on our porch swing and watch our kids play and think, 'My, how far we've come.' And I know that if that isn't the case it will only be because there is someone else out there who can better fulfill those dreams. But I also know that I love her. And I know that I'm still feeling a little helpless. Like there's nothing I can say and nothing I can do to change things.

But I do have hope. Because even though I felt helpless when I came across that spider last night, I survived. Because eventually, I fell asleep. Because the sink can be clean, even though it may require breaking out the multi-surface cleaner more than you'd like to. Because things may seem horrible in the middle of everything, but they do get better. Eventually, you do break out that multi-purpose. Eventually, you grab a sneaker and brave the unknown and dangerous. Eventually, you count sheep find yourself waking up in the morning. Eventually you crawl out of bed, lift the shades and start brainstorming. Eventually you find your self a little less helpless.

So stick in there. 'Cause it gets better.

She is.

Listen here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VsNbhwSXDB8&ob=av2e Mama-Spice Girls

Every time I've needed help to jump, she's been there to offer me words of encouragement. When I've fallen, she's offered a shoulder to cry on and pushed me to try again. When I've flown, she's been there to offer up praise. She's had my back when no one else has, supported me when no one else did, and loved me like no one else could.

She has always been honest, but has sugar-coated things when necessary. She's done her best to prepare me for whatever happened to come my way. She didn't say there'd be no pain-instead she made me strong. She didn't say I'd have a voice-instead she gave me song. She didn't promise safety-instead she made sure that I hid. She didn't say she'd catch me-she taught me to fly instead. She was there to hold me when I was 11 and kids were mean. There to defend me when I made mistakes at 15. She didn't give up on me, even when I'd let her down. And she accepted me for who I was without having to "come around."

She has always made sure that I knew that I was loved and has always given me the strength and that extra shove if I've needed it. She is my support system. I love spending time with her and talking to her. She is my best friend at the end of every day. She is funny. She is selfless. She is kind and compassionate, brave and strong, creative and intelligent. She is wonderful. She is mine. She is Mom.

I love her.

Running Away

Listen (on the playlist below):

Running Away-3 Days Grace

I Just Wanna Run-The Downtown Fiction

Have you ever been caught in a moment where you've felt like running? Jumping in the car with an unknown destination and getting the hell out of dodge? Moving abroad and pretending to be someone else with a new life? Taken yourself shopping to buy an obscene amount of stuff that you don't actually need or sometimes even want? Have you ever been with someone just because it was a better alternative to being alone? Pushed someone out of your life when the goings got tough?

We all get bogged down by life. We all get overwhelmed in certain moments when we feel our heart and soul are being crushed to the point where the only sensible (yet illogical) thing to do is run. Run literally, metaphorically, spiritually....We've all been there. But the funny thing about running is that no matter where you go and who you're with or without, the feelings eventually creep back. It's simple: the problem is with you. It's in you. The geographical, emotional and/or material distraction can only get us so far. They are only temporary fixes. At night when you shut your eyes and the running stops, you return to that same dark corner: yourself.

I learnt a while ago that doing things to keep your mind busy doesn't make what you do meaningful. It doesn't give what you do purpose. That running 120mph on the treadmill of self-deception only lands you in the same spot days, weeks, months, or a thousand dollars and a shattered heart, later. Sometimes it's good to run. To shake the cobweb up and untangle your heart to find a new lead. Just don't burn out running for so long that you forget the answer was there, inside you, all along. Eventually you must get out of bed and pull up the shades, pull over and do a U-turn, put the clothes down...and stop. Stop and reflect. Stop and face whatever you're running from. Stop and face yourself.

No song, just pictures. :)

Part of our day in iPhone snapshots. There was lots of singing in convertibles, basketball, swinging, baseball, hockey and even a coke bottle explosion using Mentos. It was a good one. Hope yours was too! :)

The Best Day

Listen (on the playlist below):

The Best Day-Taylor Swift

Sometimes you have to ignore your priorities and just let loose. Sometimes you have to leave one thing on your to-do list off of your to-do list...decide that it can wait until tomorrow. Some days it's good to procrastinate. Today was one of those days.

My plan for today was to sleep until I woke up and then write a draft of the speech I have due this week. Instead, my mom woke me up at 11 and told me she wanted to go to the mall. I took drafting my speech off of my to-do list and set off with my mom to begin what ended up being one of my best days in a long time.

We started it off going to Rocky Hill to get scrubs for an old neighbor who had had hip surgery. Maybe that seems boring, like a chore, but it bought me even more quality time with my mom, so it was great. Then we decided last-minute to go to the other mall so that we could go to Dick's for sneakers (which I didn't end up getting and just resulted in a painfully awkward run-in with an ex.) We went to Macy's for a coffee maker and then to the food court. We ordered Cajun food and sat down next to the carousel we used to take Cameron to ride almost every weekend. (Those trips were completed with an Orange Julius, Arby's fries and pennies thrown into the fountain. But the carousel was the best):

We ate our chicken and talked about their trip to Germany and where we would go. And then we ordered ice cream and talked about the boy. We began our search for sneakers, which yielded no results. We went to Build-A-Bear and made a bear together. I wish I could remember my mom's comments on the cat pictured below verbatim, but the words, "tramp" and "cankles" were used and it was funny.

Checking that our bear was soft:

Giving her a heart...Complete with a wish:

Introducing Lucy Cassandra, the teddy bear version of my mommy when she gets home from work. No really. The resemblance is frightening. ;) :

After Build-A-Bear we got a lemonade to share and headed over to Pier 1 Imports for a chair. She may ground me for this photo, but it's funny. 'Cause she was yelling at me for taking another picture. But even more funny because that chair was an outdoor chair and we were looking for an indoor chair:

And we took a picture together and practiced our duck-faces:

And then we got home and the boy wanted to go for some fries and a shake. So we took a ride to McD's. But their shake maker was broken. So we took another ride to a different McD's and I borrowed my mom's shoes to go inside and she smelled them when I got back to the car to make sure I hadn't ruined them, even though I was only wearing them for 3 seconds. Seriously? The kid is cute even with a seatbelt covering his face:

And once we were back home, shake (and fries) in hand, he was happy:

And I tickled him:

And it was just a wonderful ending to my perfect day....

Yes, I left something off my to-do list. I completely switched up my plans and the world didn't end. In fact, it was all sunshine and rainbows. And I LOVE sunshine and rainbows.

But not as much as I LOVE her.

I had the best day with you today.

We are all the same.

Listen (on the playlist below):

Let Me Be Myself-3 Doors Down

One Day-Matisyahu

Beauty in the World-Macy Gray

We are all the same. We all live, breathe, bleed and break. We all have nights where we cry ourselves to sleep and mornings where we push the snooze button one more time than we should because we just don't want to get up. We all lose our tempers, we all lose our minds and we all lose sight of what's important. We are all the same.

So why is it that so many people focus on what makes us different as though different is a bad thing? Because it's not. The people we fall in love with, the things we believe in, whether or not they make band-aids that match our skin tone? None of those differences change that we are all the same-they don't change the fact that we are all people. People who struggle sometimes just to get through the day. People who look back on the past and think, 'Where did the time go?' People who experience hate and love, heartache and bliss, pain and pleasure. We're all just people, living life day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute. We're all trying to live instead of merely just being alive. Instead of just existing.

But it can be really difficult to do anything but exist when you are being told that your existence-who you are-is wrong. It can be really difficult to hold your head high, throw your shoulders back and walk tall. It can be really difficult not to let that little shadow of doubt creep into your mind and leave you asking yourself, 'Am I doing something wrong? Am I wrong?'

Maybe this doesn't seem like a big deal. Maybe for you second-guessing yourself is helpful and good. But it's not helpful and good for me. No, for me, self-doubt is downright destructive. Self-doubt can leave me in a slump for days, weeks, sometimes even months. But in moments of clarity, in moments like this one, where there is no shadow of doubt, no questions, no wonder, I know that who I am-even with all of my flaws-is not wrong. That I am fine just the way I am. And that everyone else on this planet is fine just the way that they are. No matter who they love, what they believe in or whether they can walk to CVS and get a band-aid that matches their skin tone. Because we all live, we all breathe, we all bleed and we all break. We are all the same.

Choosing to dance...Like no one's watching

Listen (on playlist below):

Rain-Mika

It is 3am and my room is flooded with white light. Really bright light. Blinding light. And every few minutes there is a huge bang that could battle the likes of the sound of an explosion. But I'm not mad that the noise and light woke me up out of a dream...a really good dream.... No, I'm not mad at all. I'm grateful and excited. Because finally, after what seems like forever, I've gotten the thunderstorm I've been wishing for. Yes. Wishing for.

I sit up in my bed, wrap myself in my comforters, close my eyes and listen. Listen to the raindrops methodically hitting the windowpanes. Listen to the crack when the lightning turns the night sky fluorescent-so bright I can see it with my eyes closed. Listen to thunder roll in like a wave at high-tide at the beach. I listen and it takes me back. Back to other storms on other nights, but mostly, back to one very specific storm...

I am 7. And 3/4. (Those 3/4 were very important back then.) It is nighttime and it is dark. I lay in bed, Winnie the Pooh comforter wrapped tightly around my head (Mr. Kidnapper? I am not here. Obviously. 'Cause you can't see my head! Or my feet! So you can just leave now and go to someone else's house!) And I am scared. Of the dark, of the aforementioned kidnapper who was totally on his way to come get me, and of the thunderstorm going on outside. I wasn't just scared, I was petrified. I ran downstairs to find my mom when I just couldn't take it anymore. But when we got upstairs, instead of turning towards my bed, she turned in the opposite direction. She turned towards my closet. She opened the door, pulled out a pair of flip flops and a jacket and told me to put them on. And then she left me wondering what alien had abducted my mom's brain as she went to her own room and did the same. Still unsure, I followed her down the stairs to the front door. She walked into the rain, threw her hands up in the air, face towards the sky, and danced. And she looked at me as if she expected me to do the same. There wasn't a chance. What if I got struck by lightning? What if Mr. Kidnapper was right around the corner and my mom closed her eyes just a second too long? Nope. There was definitely no way I was walking out that front door...But. It looked like my mom was having a lot of fun. And maybe I wouldn't get struck by lightning. And maybe the kidnapper was sick that night. So I did the unthinkable: I stepped outside. I danced in the rain. I faced my fears....

I chose to dance in the rain....Like no one was watching. And I loved it.

Fast forward 11 years. I'm a little older and it's a little later. But it's the same kind of storm and I'm not scared anymore. I have turned my fear into joy, my pain into pleasure, my hate into love. I have learned to dance in the rain. I have learned to face my fears, to take risks, to jump into the unknown. I have learned to trust myself, believe in myself and let go of my inhibitions. And those things? They translate well in most all aspects of life. And that's what this blog is going to be about: about not waiting out the storm, but instead, choosing to dance...like no one's watching.