:)

I am a happy, happy camper lately.

Why? ... Why not?

I have spent so much of my life mulling over the past and worrying about the future.

For now... I just want to enjoy the journey.

Could it be?

What is this odd feeling coming over me lately? It couldn't be...no, surely not...there's just no way that it's productivity!?

I was so rundown last year, between the two jobs and the five classes and the service fraternity and the feeble attempt to still have a social life, that I reverted to MSM: Major Slacker Mode. I totally forgot, until very recently, the rush I get from actually accomplishing something. Even small things — returning an email, using my thirty minutes between classes to work on my design, or (get this) actually reading those textbooks I spend hundreds of dollars on.

I don't want to get too ahead of myself here. It's only the fourth week, after all. But perhaps (dare I say it?) senior year might not swallow me up whole after all? I can only hope.

The dreaded question

The first week of my senior year is in the books. Let's ignore my quarter-life crisis and clinical senioritis at the moment and focus on The Dreaded Question that I've been asked at least thirty times this week: "What are you going to do after graduation?"

Translation: who's going to be giving you a paycheck?

I loathe that question. Mainly because when I say, truthfully, "I have no idea," I get that look reserved for aimless losers — the mortal enemy of Type A journalism students the world over. But I really don't have any idea. I want to do a hundred different things... get my MBA and start my own business, or maybe my MFA and become an English professor; go into counseling; work for a non-profit or a sports team; be a professional substitute teacher. Heck, maybe I'll go crazy and actually use my journalism degree to get a job at a magazine.

I know I'll find a job. And I'm not trying to be an overly-confident product of my generation, because I'm fully aware that the world of employment isn't as peachy as we'd like it to be. But I'm fine with starting at the bottom and working my way up, and I enjoy enough things that I'm pretty sure I'll be able to pay the bills one way or another.

What I'm more concerned with is not what I'm going to do, but who I'm going to be. And isn't that the more important question?

I know who I want to be: A woman of God. A woman of integrity and compassion. The kind of person who puts others first and stops to smell the roses. I want to be bold, peaceful, happy. So for now, and perhaps for a bit after graduation, I'd much rather focus on setting the tone for the rest of my life and working on who I want to be — not what.

May 22, 2011: The final day and hour

I haven't had much to say lately. Well, I've had a lot to say actually, just not via my ultra-public blog. When the storm of the century (or at least I hope it was) tears through your hometown and kills, destroys, and breaks hearts all over, what is there to say?

I was grateful that the Missourian let me come home and cover the tragedy through first-person dispatches. I'm back now working on a multimedia project over it all. My reporting class ends July 6th, and then I'll be back for the rest of the summer. I don't feel like there's a lot I can do, but I can't imagine being anywhere else right now.

I've been curled up on the couch all morning, perusing Facebook and Twitter, when I came across both of Will Norton's Twitter accounts. The last tweet on the first account said, "I'm graduating today!" which was heartbreaking in itself. Then I started scrolling through the tweets on his second account. They were mostly happy, celebratory messages to his friends who had graduated with him also, just hours before his death. But on May 20th, two days earlier, he had retweeted a Bible verse: "But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. -Matthew 24:36"

I know this verse pertains to apocalyptic claims, but I think in this case, it pertained to Will's last day and hour. And I'd like to think that God used that verse to speak to Will's heart and prepare him for what was to come. I know he's in a happier place now, as are the rest of those we lost on that day, and I can only hope that when my times comes, I go out with that much grace.

So here's to living like Will, and soaking in every moment we have left.

Finals shminals

No earth shattering lesson today (har har). Just a high five to everyone suffering through finals week like yours truly. I sincerely hope you have more motivation than I do.

Two finals to go. I got this!

P.S. Really funny conversation with Marcela today.

Marcela (with a big smile on her face): Sometimes when Mommy goes to work I feel like she doesn't love me anymore.

Me: You don't really mean that, do you?

Marcela: Yeah huh.

Me: Are you sure?

Marcela: Well I have to say that to get attention.

For a 4-year old, she really knows how to work it. I fear for her parents during her teenage years.

A lesson in gratefulness

I've been rifling through my old writing lately, trying to get my creative wheels moving and gear up for the manuscript(s) I need to pump out this summer, and I came across something I wrote my junior year of high school. Let me preface it by saying the assignment was a tragedy, but we weren't allowed to explicitly say what it was. I chose my grandmother's recent Alzheimer's diagnosis. Here's a little (depressing) excerpt ... we'll get to the upbeat part in a bit:

"I am my grandmother's pride and joy, her baby grand. I cry as I realize that soon she won't even remember my name. The name she gushed to anyone and everyone who would listen. I weep as it soaks in--soon she will not recognize my face. The same cheeks she squeezed and the forehead she kissed good night. I will cling to the memories as she forgets. She will forget every moment until I am nothing. She will forget every moment until she is nothing. She will lose me, and I will lose her, twice over."

Like I said, I wrote that my junior year of high school. I'm now wrapping up my junior year of college... and she still remembers me. I look different everyday -- I get triple IDed every time I go out because I don't resemble my license or my student ID, and half the time my own friends don't even recognize me when they pass me on campus -- but I can stroll into her place unannounced after being gone for months, and she knows me. She may not remember quite how much she loved me, but she still loves me. And she may ask me how school is 15 times in one sitting, but at least she remembers where I am.

I'm not naive. I know the bad times are still going to come eventually. But they're not here yet, and I am so lucky to have had these four unexpectedly good years -- and who knows how many more. I'm so grateful for that.

Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there... and especially to my amazing mother and grandmother, without whom I would not have the honor to walk this earth.

A lesson in being unapologetic

I recently came across the blog of The Single Woman, a real life Carrie Bradshaw. While I do enjoy the daily dose of girl power, I think I can scrounge that up myself. That being said, I will unabashedly admit that one of her (somewhat cheesy) quotes resounded with me:

"You are never more captivating than when you are wildly, beautifully, unapologetically YOU."

It was the unapologetically that got me. I am constantly apologizing for myself. For my mood swings and my occasionally overwhelming emotions and my temper. For my opinions and my habit of speaking my mind, even when what I have to say isn't very nice. For calling up my friends just to complain for a solid 15 minutes. For changing my mind twenty times a day or canceling plans because I just really need to stay home in my pajamas and veg out for the night. For stringing someone along, or shutting them out. For putting too much on someone. For keeping secrets, for spilling them.

I think you get the idea.

The point is, while a sincere apology is of course necessary in some instances, I'm going to try to curb the constant apologizing for being me. Yes, I am kind of a head case, and I'm practically impossible to put up with at times -- but aren't we all? Don't apologize for being you. Those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind.

(Thank you, Dr. Seuss, for still teaching me invaluable lessons even in my adulthood.)