Hope in my Back Pocket

I've been really angry lately. I mean, uncharacteristically so. I think this has to be my least favorite emotion. I feel guilty for feeling angry. Does that make sense? Like-- I CAN'T rationalize myself out of sadness...but I CAN rationalize my way out of anger. So why don't I? I feel like when I'm angry (for more than a couple minutes) I'm just unnecessarily stewing on things that don't really matter. It's all the would have's, could have's, should have's. It's regret. It's mixed with sadness. It sucks. I feel angry for being angry. Have you ever felt that way? It's this vicious cycle that I know will end soon but I wish I could end sooner. I feel lost. I feel exhausted for expelling such powerful energy. I want to be happy again-- or at least a smiling version of neutral. I want to be okay. I just want to be able to mean it when people ask "how have you been?" and I say "fine". It's been a rough couple weeks. It's been a rough month. It's been a rough 2015 so far. I'm ready for things to turn around. 

So now I will turn things around, even if the universe isn't ready for me to be "okay" yet. I'm ready and that is all the permission I need to move forward with a smile on my face and hope in my back pocket.

So here are my (new) goals for the rest of 2015. 

Run a half- marathon. 

Write and perform a spoken word poem. 

I run a lot and write a lot when I'm sad and angry anyway. I might as well set some goals to focus my exasperated self. 

Below is one of my favorite TED Talks of all time. The part that focuses on "the dark side of the subjunctive" is actually one of the most healing concepts I've ever wrapped my head around. I feel regret because the English language allows for it. I do not have to feel this way. Not everyone feels this way. Something about that gives me immense relief. I highly encourage you to watch. 

It Can Only Go Up from Here

The past 30 days of life have been a whirlwind in all the worst ways possible. I don't understand how March got so screwed...but it did. And I'm over it.

I am officially staying in Denver. 

I am my main source of happiness.

I am independent. 

Bring it on.

Twenty-three is my Favorite Age

Do you guys know those old beachballs with hand written questions all over it you used in college leadership groups and other get-to-know-you group settings? Well, if you've never seen one, I encourage you to imagine it-- or look it up. 

The other afterschool facilitator and I have been slowly but surely adding questions to this orb in hopes that the students will begin having some more meaningful discussions and share about themselves without feeling like they're diving head first into vulnerability. We've been adding "easy" questions like "What's your favorite color?" and "What's your favorite season and why?" to ease them into talking about themselves. Then one of our students asked to add the following question:

What was/is your favorite age and why?

Some of the students' responses were vulnerable and I'm not sure they even realized it. One of them said when they were 9 because it was before they started having to take responsibility of themselves. Another students said ages 1 to 3 because that was when he lived in Mexico and life was just so much easier than it is now. I think those are very telling responses, I'm not sure if they recognized the same vulnerability, but I was grateful for their courage. 

This question also got me thinking. What was my favorite age and why? Let me indulge you in my response. 

Twenty-three is my favorite age. I am not trying to tell you that I am ridiculously happy right now...because honestly, these past many weeks have been some of the most trying times I've ever gone through, and I'm not happy. 

BUT, this question got me really thinking about what my favorite age is...despite this stretch of trudging my last few months. Here is why 23 is my favorite age:

• I completed a year of service for my country (Shout out to all FEMA Corps Class 20A)
• I moved to a brand new city knowing no one but the people I came with
• I went from having no home and no income in Denver and within two weeks, I had both a room over my head AND a job
• I am expanding my experiences and interests by juggling 4 jobs in 4 completely different categories of work (youth development, coffee, musical education, administrative work)
• I'm slowly overcoming my fear and hatred of networking
• I put my whole heart into making a long distance relationship work for nearly my entire 23rd year
• I ran 75+ miles in the National Mall/Washington, DC when I lived there
• I was givin a glowing letter of recommendation from the Director of Operations at FEMA Headquarters in Washington, DC
• I wrote (the first draft of) a novel
• I made friends in Denver and re-connected with old ones
• I fell in love with working with high school youth...perhaps shaping the path of a future career

There is no denying that life is hard right now. But 23, man. Look at all the cool stuff I did when I was 23! And I mean, those are only the things that were super duper cool that stick out to me. I still know there's even more than that. I completely flipped my life up-side-down when I was 23 and I'm still managing to keep my head above water (even if it's just long enough to breathe).

I turn twenty-four in 18 short days. Any suggestions on how I can end this already badass year with an unforgettable bang? Let me know--after you check out the pictures from my 23rd year below, of course. 

New Friends and Old Friends on St. Patrick's Day 2015.

The wonderful group of women I work with at Mi Casa Neighborhood Center
 at North Campus.

One of the many gorgeous views of the monuments in the National Mall.

The first night in our house. No furniture and hardly enough utensils to cook.

On our way to Denver, CO.

My life-changing AmeriCorps Team, Bayou 6, at our Awards Banquet.

Thanks to all who made 23 the most memorable, challenging, and exciting year of my life. I plan to grow and challenge myself and cry just as much when I'm 24. I hope you'll be a part of it.

A Black Eye is Forming

Today, after struggling to get the students engaged in anything, I had to have a discussion with three students about why they were refusing to be on the same soccer team. This took nearly the entire program time. But don't worry, in the last 2 minutes before programs ended (when I was finally allowed to have a little bit of fun), I managed to take a soccer ball to the face, break my only pair of glasses, get a big ol' gash on the bridge of my nose, and maybe curse a little bit (but hopefully quiet enough that none of the students heard because I'm supposed to practice what I preach, right?)

Please see the progression of embarrassing "selfies" below to fully experience the awkwardness and humor of my very interesting Friday the 13th. I never was much for superstition...but perhaps now my mind has changed. 

The little gash on my nose from my glasses frames breaking.

Emergency surgery on my broken glasses. Thank goodness for super glue.

"When life gives you a soccer ball to the face,
wrap peas on your head." -Shannon T. Conmy
(I give everyone complete permission to quote me on this)

Now let's hope I don't get a black eye. #selfie

Not pictured above is a very humorous interaction between me and my roommate, Kurt. While ordering a new pair of glasses online, I realized I did not know my PD: pupillary distance, aka the distance in millimeters between the center of my pupils. Kurt and I attempted for about 10 minutes to measure the distance with a ruler. It was quite a sight to see. 

Happy Friday the 13th, everyone. Hope you had a great one. 

I am a First-Draft Novelist.

As many of you likely saw on Tuesday...

February 24, 2015 at approximately 1:30pm MST, I completed my novel with 50,091 words on the 30th day of my 30-day writing challenge. I sobbed nearly the entire last day I wrote because a) my story ended sort of sad and b) I was closing the chapter on one of the most adventurously creative months of my life. I preemptively cried for all the nostalgia I knew I was going to feel. And just as I suspected, the nostalgia has arrived. 

Today was my first Saturday since I completed my novel. As I walked home from work all I could keep thinking was "What am I going to do with myself today?" I even asked my friend Lora, writing companion and fellow National Novel Writing Month Champion (go Lora!!), and she shared the same feeling of loss,longing, and lack of identity. It is amazing how quickly I became totally engrossed in the project-- and frightening how abruptly it ended.

I went through past journal entries just to remind myself of things I used to do on Saturday's. There was never really anything all too exciting, but I was reminded to go grocery shopping and make myself food today. Thank goodness I keep track of this stuff, huh?

Luckily, though, I prepared for this feeling of loss: 

You are reading the blog of the Committee Chair of Communications for the Stupid Cancer CancerCon Kickoff Fundraiser event on April 9, 2015. Booyah. I will be in charge of coordinating marketing efforts, email correspondence, fundraiser website content, etc. all leading up to and following this event. I connected with this organization a few months ago when I happened to meet one of the five New York City based Stupid Cancer employees in my coffee shop in Denver, Colorado. More networking awesomeness, right? But yes, I knew I'd be really busy twiddling my thumbs if I didn't get another project to replace any potential post-novel depression. So here it is, my energy and high-strung-ness (as an official novelist I now have permission to make up any words I like) will not go to waste!

Fundraiser communications, full speed ahead!! :)

Also, I have a Stupid Cancer fundraiser page that I would really love your support on. If you are unable to donate at this time, please pass it on to someone who can. Stupid Cancer is doing some amazing things for Young Adult Cancer patients and survivors, I'm honored to be a part of it.

42,716.

Fourty-two thousand, seven hundred and sixteen. 

That is my word count at this exact moment. And this is the song that was just playing on my Spotify as I finished typing about 1,000 words in 30 minutes. 

No wonder I was typing so damn fast. I think I will probably hit my word count tomorrow and THEN actually wrap up the story in the next couple days. I am still getting adrenaline rushes while I write because my characters are still surprising me. This is an unbelievable adventure for my subconscious. I truly recommend writing  50,000 word story in 30 days to everyone, writers or not. This has been one of the most enlightening personal projects I have ever embarked on.

I can't wait to delve a little further into it for you. 

But for now, I sleep. Goodnight, all. 

The Coffee Shop

Okay, so maybe this isn't the most glamorous or challenging place for me to work at the age of 23 (almost 24). But hear this-- working here has been networking gold. Do you know how many people of such different walks of life I've met working here? I meet college students. business owners, doctors, freelance writers, therapists, musicians, engineers, retired old men who make clocks, toddlers that dress up like Elsa for Halloween, people with multiple personalities disorder, Cal Poly alum, and the list goes on. I've met one-on-one with some of these people to just pick their brain about what they do. Do you know how much people love to talk about themselves...especially if they like their job? SO MUCH. 

It was just proven today, yet again, that this coffee shop is a goldmine for networking. Turns out, one of the women who comes in that I absolutely adore has a very close friend who works at the company I just applied for-- in New York City. Small world, right? 

Adrenaline has been coursing through me since this discovery. Does this connection mean anything? Not necessarily. But I know someone who knows someone who works at a really badass nonprofit in the city I'm trying to move to. There is absolutely no way that this is bad information to have. 

Fingers crossed a gazillion times over. The good vibes, the prayers, they are all welcome. Here goes nothin'!




Also, unrelated to work: I am at 10, 344 words in my novel. I feel like I'm flying.