interlude to life
Brothers! Sisters! New friends!
Hello,
Contrary to popular belief, and to other’s disappointment, this blog is not dead! Me, on the other hand, is still hangin’ on by a thread as I recover from this semester.
Where do I begin? Where did I leave off? Did I mention I graduate in August? Ya’ll this is my last semester of classes at Texas State. It feels surreal.
A couple weeks ago, I was sitting in my editing class flipping through a Portland travel magazine and tuning out the correct way to spell “Limousine”(I had to use spellcheck to type that, so maybe I should have been listening a little better), and I was thinking about what bills I needed to pay, if I had called my mom back, if the cute guy at Target was working today, what edits I needed to make on my thesis, when I had work next, what I was going to do after graduation—then it hit me: the big picture.
You know that feeling when life is going 150mph and everything is going by like the blur of trees on the side of the road, and then suddenly it’s like someone slammed on the brakes and you realize you’re actually not in that big of a rush to get where you’re going?
Catching the big picture feels like standing in the eye of one big existential hurricane. It’s a moment of total clarity; a realization that the storm of stress you’ve been living inside your head is just an illusion you created, and time has been going by just as slow as it did when you were eight.
For the first time in my life, I have absolutely no idea where I’m going to be in a year. It’s daunting to say the least. I could end up still here in Texas, or Seattle, or some cottage in the Italian countryside, with a beautiful man who feeds me grapes, or maybe even the sofa in my parent’s living room - elbow deep in a bag of cheeto puffs watching reruns of Full House.
Really, the possibilities are endless.
I try my best to think realistically, but, truth be told, I’m more fluent in daydreams than I am English. I like to picture myself living in a studio apartment in some big city and going to Whole Foods and doing sunrise yoga. Did I mention in this fantasy I also weigh twenty pounds lighter and like to talk about juice cleanses and “how great the tofu is at that little Thai place downtown”?
But than I remember something very important: that’s not me. At all.
No matter how much I might want it to be, it’s not. I have a bank account that could barely put me through a couple months of rent (in some roach infested little pull-out-bed apartment), love-handles, and I can’t wake up early for anything other than morning cartoons and the promise of coffee. Not to mention I have yet to find a place that makes tofu that doesn’t taste like deep fried sponges.
I mentioned in one of my previous posts that I try to set realistic expectations for myself, but I also have size 12 shoes picked out for my size 8 life. However, my drive to fill those shoes isn’t anywhere near I’d like it to be.
I’m the kind of person that gets it done. It’s messy and usually last minute, but I get it done.
This is great, because what needs to get done ends up getting done, but when I finish, I always realize that I could have done better if I would have just started earlier and worked a little harder (I’m looking at you, thesis). I’m usually not satisfied with the outcome, despite being responsible for what I put in.
It feels like i’m always being rushed through my life, but in reality, I’m the only one rushing me.
I have to remind myself to slow down a lot. Like, a lot. I stress about the future, I obsess over the past, and I can barely live in the moment long enough to catch my breath. However, there are these moments - breaks of clarity - where I’m like, “Oh my god, okay. I’m okay. I can breathe. Everything’s okay. Chill out for a sec will you? Geez, Emily.”
I’m learning the virtue of patience. Not only with the people that order a hot coffee and ask to switch it to iced while i’m in the middle of steaming the milk, but with myself. It’s not that i’m just slowing down each task, but rather doing it intentionally.
Basically, I’m learning to do things not just for the sake of getting it done. For instance, when I clean, I’ve started seeing it less like a chore, but rather something I can do to take care of myself and the environment around me. Trust me, my room still looks like it got hit by a category 3 tornado when I let myself slip, but when I clean, I clean. I take the time to clean my sheets, and make sure there aren’t streaks left on the mirror. When I cook, I pay closer attention to how I slice my vegetables. I look up the ripeness of a tomato. When I write, I don’t write to finish something. Overall, I’m just putting in more time and effort into doing things the right way, even if it’s the long way.
And I’ve started noticing small changes in my health - physically and mentally. I have gratitude for small moments, like watching the sun rise on the patio after I open up the coffee shop in the morning. The things I’m doing, even the most mundane tasks, have this touch to them that makes it special somehow. For the first time in my life, I’m learning to play an active role in my life. To be fully present in it.
That’s my spin on having no clear idea on where I’m going to end up in a year. It’s scary, but it’s also exciting. Whether it’s across the country, or my old bedroom at my parent’s house. Wherever is is will have it’s time and can wait for me, because all that matters right now is the moment I’m living in.
So here’s to getting lost in it.
