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New Address!

I think I was surprised to find  that I actually like blogging, so I am going to continue!

From now on I'll post on this address:
http://livingsimplyandfreely.wordpress.com/
It will give me a bit more freedom and is just a better template.

So follow me there!

Outsmarted By Starbucks

Today I decided to treat myself with a chai from Starbucks. 

I went in and waited in the obnoxiously long line.

Seriously. How long does it take to decide between poppyseed or a multigrain bagel?

I get up to the front of the line and barista looks at me, anticipating my order.

I explain that I want a chai tea latte, made with skim milk.

She makes eye contact with me and asks, Grande?

For those readers who are not Starbucks frequent visitors, that is coffee shop talk for medium size.   

I stop and think for a second. My default size is tall (a small drink), and ordinarily the barista asks me "what size?" so I make the active choice to say 'tall.' There is no temptation, only habit.
However, she specifically asked me if I wanted a grande, so the idea was in my head. Now I wanted a grande. Before the frugal side of me could regain control, I felt myself nodding my head and smiling.

“Yes, grande sounds good.”

 That’s how the game is played. I used to be a register girl at a Cici’s Pizza. They would play the same game. 

Cici’s Pizza is an all-you-can-eat $4.99 buffet. Can’t get much better than that, all the food you want and for only five dollars? 

A lot of times people would come in so excited about the low prices, and then ask how we still managed to make a profit from our salad, pizza, pasta, and dessert buffet. It was my job to smile and shrug and chalk it up to the magic of the Cici’s Gods. 

In reality almost all of our profit came from the beverages.  

Beverages are profit traps for restaurants. It only costs a restaurant a few cents for a standard fountain drink, but what does a customer often pay? At Cici’s it was a $1.79.
That’s about $1.50 in profit every sale. Bring in a few hundred thirsty customers, and now it’s a few hundred dollars.
 Oh, but that’s not all.
 People who came to eat at Cici’s could get a clear water cup for free (clear cup because then we can yell at people who steal our precious coke. That was my favorite part), or they could pay $1.79 for a red drink cup.
OR if they wanted to only pay fifty cents extra, they could buy the FANCY SMANCY STYROFOAM TO GO CUP. It held thirty-two ounces of fountain drink goodness.
Let me tell you, 32 ounces is A LOT of drink. As a register girl, selling these cups were key to success. Regular drinks were profit traps, but these to go cups were gold. Styrofoam is dirt cheap and essentially these cups were pure profit.
Little known fact about me, I am crazy competitive. Once I was hired as a register girl, I was going to be the best register girl. This meant I would put on my winning smile, belt out that “Hi welcome to Cici’s,” and sell those to go cups without fail.  

Not to toot my own horn (Toot. Toot.), but I became awesome at selling to go cups. I developed tricks, like holding the cup right under the customer’s face as I asked them if they wanted to buy it. They saw it, they wanted it. 

Or I would stack the cups in pretty formations, they just looked so much happier and like a luxury item. 

I also started to stereotype customers depending on their likelihood to buy the cup, it isn’t exactly PC, but is surprisingly accurate.

•  Parents with children hardly ever bought to go cups, probably penny pinching. The few that did probably felt guilty because their three-year-old child tore down my carefully constructed cup display.

•   Elderly folk often turned down the upgrade, normally with an exaggerated, “OH babycakes, I can’t handle something that big.”

• Single men – almost always bought the cup. Probably were free from the controlling women in their life and decided to splurge a bit.

• Men were much more likely to upgrade than women and often if she did, she would assure me that it was for iced tea.

• If a group of friends came in and all paid separately the bandwagon effect almost always decided what would happen. If the first person bought a drink or a to go cup, almost everyone behind them would follow suit. The same unfortunately applied if the first person only took water, I knew immediately to throw in the towel. We are such followers.

• Teenage boys were my favorite to prey on, They often had mom and dad’s money and so were fine spending it. It also helped that as a sixteen year old girl I would often turn my flirt on and develop a good banter before proposing the inexpensive upgrade. 95% success rate.

 I should have gone into marketing. I’ve got this down. It worked too, I could read people and knew exactly what to say to get them to upgrade their beverage. I was easily the best register girl at selling Styrofoam cups (Toot. Toot.)

Standing at the Starbucks counter waiting for the barista to swipe my card for my now $4.15 beverage (Outrageously high for any drink. I’m on a mission to find a homemade chai recipe, any suggestions PLEASE send them my way!) , I realized that I had fallen prey to the EXACT mind game I used to play with the people who would come in for their buffet.

Somehow I had been stereotyped (what about me told her that I would buy a grande? That I was a college student? Short? White? Wearing cowboy boots?), and she took her shot, and in my moment of vulnerability, succeeded.

As soon as I walked away I realized this was against my better judgment. Simple marketing ploys had overcome my desire to be frugal. For a moment I resented that Starbucks barista, she had used her skills for evil and took my extra money and forced me extra calories. Then I realized that it was all part of the game, I once too used my skills for evil and pulled fifty cents out of many innocent fingers. It wasn't all the barista's fault. It was the system. It was my responsibility to be above the mind tricks.

Today I was conquered, but not next time, Starbucks. I will have ownership of my purchases and my chai. Even if you outsmarted me this time.

A Story a Staple

I was walking to work one day and was waiting at one of the many crosswalks I stand at on a daily basis.
I casually put my hand on the pole and felt a plethora of bumps under my hand.

Naturally, I jumped back about two feet thinking an army of bugs was coming to get me.
I looked around to make sure no one saw.

At second glance, I realized they were staples.

Hundreds and hundreds of staples. 

They're on almost every wooden pole in Nashville, but never have I looked closely at it.
Why would I?

Once I did, my gears started to turn (that's a really silly saying, it suggests I am a machine, which I am the farthest things from).

Each one of these staples held up a flier. Maybe it was announcing a concert, a symphony, a game, or a sale. Maybe it was a lost dog, cat, or parakeet. Maybe the flier was a person looking for somewhere to live, or a person looking for someone to live with.
Every staple once held a story that someone wanted people to know about. That's why it hung on a pole for all to see. The story isn't still there, but the staple is. It's the residue from the concert, lost dog, or homeless student.

I wonder how the concert did. Did the flier really help that apartment vacancy get filled? What about the restaurant opening, did they find a new server?
I'll never know, but there is a staple to tell us there was something.

I feel like right now in my life, I haven't even put my flier up yet, I don't have anything so important that the whole world needs to know (ironic from the girl keeping a blog?)
My goal is to figure out what my flier would say, but I once I do hang it up, I better make it worth it while it's there, because eventually all there will be left of it is a staple.

Hopefully, my staple has a cool story behind it.

Who is God's Mama?

I was working at the after school program and most of the kids were intently working on a homework and coloring sheets. 
All of a sudden, I hear my name. With these kids, I hear my name too much; and if I don't reply, no worries, they'll say it five more times just to MAKE SURE that I didn't miss them. Sometimes I want to ask the kids to call me another name, like Pam or Bob, just to give my name a break.
I approach the table, and first took the marker away from the six year old who had began writing his name across the table is red ink. 


He started to pout. I didn't really care, he'd get over it in a few minutes anyways.

"Ms. Sarah, who is God's mama?" One of the boys asked. 

My attention whipped to him, this would clearly be a little bit harder to handle than the marker on the tabletop.


"Yeah, and if someone is God's mama then who is God's mama's mama?" One of the other boys asked, jumping out of his seat and into my face, making sure that I saw him.

My first reaction to all of this was amusement. Mostly because I remember at about eight years old having my mind BLOWN with the the same questions. It didn't make sense. Everything alive comes into being because there are two parents that have a baby: people, dogs, cats, and even mosquitos (that is until you hit sophomore biology, and then asexual species just messes with everything you thought you knew about the world). 

So how on EARTH can the father of our world not have parents?

Then I thought about it. To an adult, it's a humorous question, the thought of a mother God taking care of our God, but for our human frame of reference, it's a completely rational question.

Kids are smart.

Religion is such an interesting topic. I don't know if it's where I am in life or if it's society as a whole, but in my life, it is extremely taboo. 

Don't talk about it with kids. 

Don't talk about it in school. 

Don't talk about it in work. 

Don't talk about it with your friends.

Don't step on anyone's toes: religion and politics are things that should NOT be discussed.

Why? 

This child had an honest question and it sparked enough in me to write this entire post.

It's all about how it is discussed.

One day, I hope to be as fearless as that child was to ask those questions and try to find the answers to my own.

Real Personhood

When did I become a real person!?

This weekend was a test of my independence. This was my first time without the security of a college campus or the watchful eye of my parental dynamic duo. I was a free bird. 

Over the course of the weekend I learned a few life lessons about Real Personhood.

1.) Real People pull themselves up by their bootstraps


Real People have to make due with what they have. If something goes wrong they have to figure out how to fix it.

For example: when we figured out that the house I am moving into did not have space to keep two mini fridges, we found somewhere to store them. The night before we moved out.

I'm impressed with myself too.

And it's alive.

Or when it's raining and you have to bike home from a coffee shop with your laptop: 

Real People ask the barista (I want a job that makes me sound so fancy for pouring coffee) for a plastic bag to wrap your computer in.

It helps when the barista is attractive, as mine was.

Is it a baristo if it's a male?

Mom! Look what I did!

Or while we're talking about bikes, when you have a backpack AND a purse, it's really hard to ride with both on your back. So, Real People use their intuition and innovation to create a solution.

It took three struggling rides to figure this one out.
It's tied AROUND the handle bars. Out of my and the bike's way.
I should patent this and stop working so hard.

2. Real People have to ask for help

This is the life lesson of the weekend. 

I learned that I do not enjoy asking for help, because it makes me feel vulnerable. 

It must be one of those lessons you don't learn until you realize that you have overcome it.

Because, I also learned that I will never be able to do anything by myself. 

I am so thankful I have friends that help me out when I need it. 

3. Real People Grocery Shop

The people in my life have been so great about teaching me most of the skills I need in life:

• How to read and write
• How to say 'please' and 'thank you'
• How to drive a car

My question for all of you adult mentors:

Where was the lesson on how to grocery shop?!

I'm not asking how to find the bread or milk. I got that part down.

I'm asking WHAT ON EARTH DO I BUY TO SUSTAIN MYSELF?

I just couldn't handle it.

How do you walk into a grocery store and see aisles and aisles of products and know how to choose the golden items?

How do you make a grocery list when you don't even know what you need?

Why does everyone else in a grocery store look like they know exactly what they are doing and I am the only one who is lost?

I quickly realized also, as I was stumbling through the grocery store, wondering why ON EARTH the yogurt and milk were not located next to each other, that grocery shopping forces you into various Real People behaviors.

If forces you to send texts to your best guy friend that suggests middle aged married couple status:

For the record: wheat does not mean just wheat bread.

There is wheat with fiber enhanced, 12 servings of grain, 15 servings of grain, extra vitamin,  or WHOLE grain wheat bread.

All of it makes my choice very complicated.

My second grocery shopping induced Real Person behavior was when I signed up for my very own Harris Teeter membership. 

My name, my phone number, my address. 

My keychain has aged 10 years
in the past week.

Oh, and no worries. 

Miss Shannon at the register made sure to let me know JUST how much I saved with my purchase.

And I am  excited about my $2.31 in savings.

Thank you, trusty VIC card, for buying me a tea.

I'm not sure I'm ready for Real Personhood, but I guess I better be ready for it. 

These life lessons are just coming by the day now.

That counts as an adventure right?

The Party

My body hurts. A lot.
I'm not sure if it's because this is the first time I've actually used my body (other than to walk, type, talk, and breathe) in months and I'm out of shape, or I'm just getting old. I'm not sure which one is worse: one is completely my fault and takes work to fix and the other I have no control over, but I can use as an excuse.

Anyways, I'm working to run every day, which I've been impressed with my ability to keep up with. Although every day I want to cry at how out of shape I've let my body become. It's a work in progress. One sweaty morning at a time.

(Ain't that just appetizing?)

This week I also volunteered to help set up this event for the graduating seniors called The Party (creative right? Top twenty institution with the brightest minds in the nation, and that's all they can come up with).

Basically it's a chance for the graduating seniors to come with their families, listen to a not so fantastic band play oldies music, and have a few drinks. By the end of the night, the dance floor was populated with just enough embarrassingly intoxicated parents that a lot of our campus experiences start to make sense.

Thirteen undergraduates and I have been working for three days in the heat alongside the real tech guys (who actually do real labor) to prepare this event. Our task essentially is to set up hundreds of tables and chairs and assemble dozens upon dozens of centerpieces.
At first I was dreading the experience, it sounded monotonous and hot.
I could not be happier that I did it. It turned out to be three of the most peaceful, fun days I have had in a long time. We spent all day outside, doing tasks that didn't require much thought, but just allowed me to be outside, talk to some new people, and enjoy the fresh air.

It turned out beautiful, there is something truly to be said for seeing hard work come together to make a tangible product.

This is the final product.
Unfortunately it was dark before I thought to take a picture.
Every one of those lights passed through our hands.

One of the aspects of our job was at the end of the night we had to strap on blue plastic gloves and go through all of the glasses and separate through the paper and plastics for recycling. 

Part of the job was we had to pick out all of the used straws, of course they are not recyclable. This is also the reasoning for the necessity for the plastic gloves.

The party ended and our team of fourteen jumped into action. 

About seven tables into our project a disheveled girl, heels in one hand and mascara streaking down her cheeks, approached me. 

She explained, while exhaling red wine aroma into my face, that she had lost her wallet and that she was helpless without it. (Somehow this wallet was connected to her ability to graduate and get married?) 

I calmly offered to assist her in her search for her lost possessions. We walked together to look for her wallet. By the time we had reached the end of the lawn, I knew her boyfriend's name was Marcus and he was a good driver and that he drove a blue car. She doesn't like the blue car.

The wallet was under the first table I looked under.

She squealed. I was happy she was so happy.

All of a sudden I was in her arms, never met this girl, but she was hugging me. Just don't touch this poor girl with my spit covered blue gloves.

She stepped back and asked for my name. Did I have a Facebook? 

She pulled out her iphone and found me right away, I was impressed with her motor skills. 

I also have a new Facebook friend. 

She squealed again. Other recyclers started to look. This was getting awkward. 

She went in for another hug. 

Then she grabbed my hands. Guess she doesn't care about my blue spitty gloves.

"How many years do you have left?" She asked loudly. Most of the lawn was looking in my direction now.

Two.

"You are going to have a FANTASTIC two years! And I am NOT just saying that because I am drunk (not at all), but because I feel it in my BONES." She said, giving my head a pat. A little weird, but I took it.

Summary: Working for The Party (should that be copyrighted? Someone may take it) was a fantastic experience full of good people, food, and days of being outside. 

The best part? I received a visit from the red wine psychic and discovered that I have good things coming my way.

Overall, I think I can chalk it up to a productive week.

Chai Musings

Here I am in a coffee shop, sipping on my chai tea latte. I am in a good place.

That must also mean it's time to write again.

I admit, I've been slacking on these posts.

I was on a roll, then life took over.

Isn't that always the excuse? Life took over. What does that even mean?

I've done some thinking (surprised?), and I've come to the conclusion that the phrase (the first time I typed that I totally wrote fraze. Then I snorted at myself. That was just too embarrassing not to share),  life took over is a cop out.

Sure, things can happen in ones life. Bad or good things alike can demand our attention and time. However, this is our life and we make the active choice of what we will allow to take over.
For example, this year I kept attributing my stress and competing priorities as life and that it all of these things had been thrust upon me. Everybody wanted something from me and I could never get away from it. The issue was that I was a victim of my own life.

Being the victim of anything is rarely a good thing.


That was a cop out. I can totally take control of my life.
If I wanted to give in to the demands of all of my commitments, that was my choice. If I wanted to drop everything and say screw it, that was would also be my choice.

My point is not that I have somehow miraculously figured out to live a perfect life.

If someone has that answer, please share. Because college answers just about every question, but the ones you care about most.

My point is that I have had the epiphany that I need to take control of my own life. I am not a victim of my life, and while someone may throw me a curveball every once in a while (good or bad), I have the choice of how to react to it.

 I am not a girl laying on the train tracks waiting for a collision.

Work Begins

Yesterday was my first day at Calypso.

Any restaurant that has this as a menu topper is my kind of jam.
Look at those dancing beans!
Don't you just want to spend every day there?

Wow. This is going to be quite the summer. 

I walked into this restaurant at 11AM to start my shift. Immediately, the manager had me shadow a girl as she started stocking the line, the assembly line of food behind the counter.

She was a sixteen year old girl who was just gushing about how she had driven on the highway for the first time.

We chatted about driving and high school and her summer. It made me realize how long it had been since I had interacted with anyone from high school.

As the first few minutes of my shift progressed, the rest of the staff started to make their way into the restaurant.  I immediately fell in love with the people that I am working with. Almost all of them are in the music business (maybe they can give me a little bit better taste in music) and make me look like the driest person on the planet in comparison. 

It did take them about an hour to realize that I wasn't sixteen (an awesome reminder that I in no way look almost twenty years old).  In fact, they did not believe that I had finished my second year of college. 

It's pretty amazing how sore a person can get from only standing for five hours. Either I'm out of shape or I'm getting old. I'm not too sure which one is worse.

Either way, my legs hurt.

Anyways, I now wear a bandana to work and will probably eat black beans every day for the rest of the summer.  

One of Calypso's other top selling points is their chicken.

Thus, I now know the anatomy of a chicken like it's the back of my hand.

Did you know the part with the legs is the dark meat, but the half with the wings is white meat?

Did you know that there are people out there who can cut a chicken up in about thirty seconds flat? 

Guess who their trying to make their next professional rotisserie cutter?

Me.

Good thing I'm not chicken. (I couldn't resist)

I may wind up vegetarian from working this job.

Biking Adventures

One limitation about spending a summer in Nashville is that I will not have a car. So, I am using a friend's bike for the summer.
This is a great thing because it forces me to exercise every day, otherwise I don't have transportation. Back in Ohio, I would attempt a healthy lifestyle and bike to places when I could. I could do the mile bike ride to work like it was nobody's business. So this summer won't be a problem at all.

Ha.

Two nights ago I picked up my friends bike, a shiny purple mountain bicycle ready for adventures. Today was the first day I really decided to use it. My freshman year, a friend drove me to a fabulous coffee shop and I wanted to go back all this school year. Today I had some work to do, so I thought I would go on a little adventure.

Bring on the Weirdos

Today on my run (worked back up to two miles!) I passed the weirdest people.

• I passed a pregnant woman
• I passed someone with a dog
• I passed someone over the age of thirty
• I passed a little girl that was wearing a Santa hat 

It's funny because they aren't weird in every day world, (except for the toddler running around with a Santa hat in May) but when you go day in and day out essentially only interacting with people between the ages of 18-22, these things start to look foreign to you.
Not only that, but depending on your college's personality you see the exact same species of 18-24 year olds.

For example:

Everything is in place.
Perfect is the key word here.
Who on earth sent me here?

Replace the messenger bag
with a North Face backpack and
then we've got 75% of our student body

                                                             

Sure you see a little bit of deviation, but overall, this is a pretty good representation of people on this campus.

 So can anyone blame me if, whenever I have free time (ha.), I escape this haven and find a random coffee shop, just so that I can see people like this:

These are what some call, hipsters.

It's like going to the zoo! These people not only look different, but observing their every movement is like watching a flamingo exhibit. What are they going to do next? How do they carry anything without their Longchamp Bag?  How do live in landlocked Nashville without their boat shoes?

My friends make fun of me because I have an unhealthy obsession with hipsters.
Maybe it's because I secretly want to be one (probably can't pull off the attitude).
Maybe it's because they have better music.
Maybe because they're something different?

Clearly from the pastel pink and clean lines of this blog, I am not in any way hipster.
I think it's because it's crazy that we are in college where we are supposed to open our eyes to new things and explore this insanely vast and diverse world and I can pigeon hole myself to think that there is only one right way to live.
The only way to accessorize an outfit is definitely not only pearls.

The school year ending is bittersweet, but one reason I'm excited is because now my life is much more open to meeting new people of all kinds, not just my school's species.

I want to be able to meet people who are different than me and be able to acknowledge that. I want to take the chance to ask questions and learn all that I can from everyone who crosses my path. The best part is is that I can learn from everyone I meet and emulate what I like (imitation is the highest form of flattery) and cut out what I don't like.

So bring on the weirdos, freaks, preps, and everything in between. I want to know and learn about them all.  Who am I to judge? Everyone calls me a weirdo anyways.

The Power of a Smile

The number one way to ruin my day is when I lose anything.

And if you ask my roommate, that happens way too often. 

So the day I realized that I had lost my school ID card for the fifteenth time, my mood was less than sunny.
This ID card is what swipes students into just about any building, acts as an on campus debit card, and grants me luxuries such as laundry and food.
Essentially, it is hard to exist an hour in college without your card.
So, thank you capitalistic society, my school exploits that demand and charges $20 for a replacement card.

"This is golden. Nice work.
That should cover our bonuses for at least another five years."

$20. In college world that is at least 4 meals or 6 chai lattes or 10 loads of laundry. Let's be honest, the cost of the plastic, printing, and hard labor of pushing the print button probably costs $2 at most.
So why ON EARTH does the university charge such steep prices?


It's a conspiracy.


The college gods know we are going lose our cards. They sit around that stupid glasstop conference table and negotiate how exactly they can squeeze every last cent out of our porky privileged undergraduate fingers before we walk across the stage at graduation.

Anyways. I lost my card and I was bitter.

So I sauntered into the card office, hungry because I couldn't swipe for my breakfast, and observed the shiny plaque one the wall that my previous three replacement cards had probably paid for. I approached the receptionist and tried to put on my "I'm interacting with a service person" face. 

She smiled at me.
I smiled back. I explained I had lost my card.
She put on a face, 

"Couldn't make it until the end of the year?" Do people who are stealing your money make jokes? 

I laughed, "Nope, apparently not." I can banter with the best of them. 

She took my picture.

"So what are you doing for the summer, sweetie?" Sweetie?  

I told her. My smile wasn't quite as forced.

"Do you work here over the summer?" I asked her, maybe she isn't so bad.
"Yep, but it's slow."
"I bet."

It was the moment. This was where she asked me if I wanted to pay cash or from the debit system through the school. The conspiracy was in the works.

Pictures of people winking
 are a little creepy.

"Well, have a nice day." She replied, standing up to walk away, with a wink.

What?!

My card was free. I could now freely eat food and do laundry. I could even get into my dorm room. 

And my $20 was in my pocket.

I thought through the interaction. Why did she do that? What could have possessed her? 

I smiled and was nice.

She probably sat behind that desk day in and day out tired of crabby students walking in because they had lost something, even though she had nothing to do with. 

It's nice to know that not everyone is in on the conspiracy. She may not even know about it.

It's nice to know that there are people who appreciate genuine people and even do their own part to brighten someones day. She had definitely brightened mine.

It's definitely a good reminder to always keep on a bright face, because often I take it out on people who have absolutely nothing to do with my bad day. It's also a reminder to work to brighten someone else's day, they may just need it.

So now I think I am going to take my $20 and go find a chai latte. 

When Life Hands You a Lemon...

I work at an after school program in an impoverished community. The neighboring schools are Title I status and many of the children come from situations at home that I cannot even dream of.

It is a fantastic program. Unfortunately though, as generous as our partnering facility is, we don't have the space to fit all of those kids comfortably and we spent a lot of time trying to find somewhere for our kids to play. 

Last November an outside organization came in and built a playground for the facility we are housed out of. It was a wonderful day, and the kids now had somewhere to own and escape to. This was their place to be.

Today I received a shocking email describing the shock that our community partner experienced when she arrived at work and found that our playground had been burned.

My heart broke the moment I read the email. Who would do this? Where would our kids go? 

When I arrived at work Channel 5 news crew was at the scene and crime tape covered the grounds. The bus driver that dropped our kids off every day had told them that the playground had been burned, so the children burst through the door exploding with questions.

Can we see it?
Who did it?
How did it happen?
Will we ever get to play on it again?

Then one little girl pulled on the sleeve of my shirt. 

"Ms. Sarah, I want to fix it. Can we help?"

At that moment, I realized why I have the job that I do. As an undergraduate, I have nowhere NEAR the expertise or qualifications to solve all of the worlds problems (who does?) I can't even fix the community that I am in.
Let's face it, I'm lucky when I fix the computer when it crashes.

But I do have the expertise or qualifications to help these students be inspired to make a difference for themselves, their community, and the world. At that moment, I realized that what kids need is for someone to catch those golden moments where a child knows what is right and seize it. If she sees the impact that one statement can have and did have on me, then she will make more of them, and hopefully one day follow them through with action.

It's pretty crazy to me that so many highly educated and successful people look at communities like this and only see it as somewhere the needs their help, or people that can't help themselves. I think it's incredible that the very people that are up against every obstacle in the world are still asking:
 How can I help?

I can tell you, that when I feel like life is up against me, I am way more likely to say:

 "Do you see what I'm dealing with? Figure it out yourself!"

  And my hardships are definitely minor in comparison.

I guess this is one of those situations where I amazed by the people in my life, and need to take a step back to be inspired and be thankful for the blessings I have.

Cliche, but remember the saying: 'when life hands you a lemon, make lemonade?'

Hopefully this lemon can turn into lemonade.

Maybe this is room for us to work with the students to make this a project, how can they help make this right? 

What can they do to help take ownership of the playground, the facility, and their community?

Maybe this is room for me to learn from the kids, the work, and the community I interact with every day.

Kids are amazing. It's a shame they don't get more credit.

Night Walks

See how scary the shadows are?

There is just something about summer that reminds me what is important.

Tonight was the first night I have enjoyed the summer air, the kind that the chill is gone, and there is just enough warmth that you are comfortable. The kind that just begs for shorts and flip flops.

My roommate and I went to this park, it was after dark and probably not a good life decision, but we wanted to swing.


I realized it was the first time in a long time that I had stopped, taken a walk, spent time with a friend and talked about anything and everything. I also realized just how important that was for my life. We didn't talk about anything earth shattering, in fact the stupidity of our conversation probably decreased both of our IQ's by a few points, but it was fun and satisfying.

It's a little ironic that some of the biggest lessons I've learned this year has been less about academics and more about how to live life healthily.

Nonetheless, it made me excited summer is here and that I am about to spend an amazing three months with some of the most amazing people I know.

Hopefully I have a lot more night walks in my future.








By the way, I ran 1.1 miles today. I've got a long way to go, but it beats my .36 of a mile from the beginning!

Live Life... For Who?

Interesting fact, but my friends mom met Nicholas Sparks, and apparently he's got a huge ego and is kind of an a**.

If one of the most romantic writer of all time *opinion* is an a** in person, that makes me doubtful for the hopes of finding one of my own. And all I wanted was a Noah...

I saved this on my computer forever ago. I couldn't even tell you where I found it, but I'd really like to know what Nicholas Sparks book this is from.




This quote has been the biggest lesson I have learned most recently. I could put this in conjunction with the idea that

  "Stop trying to make everyone happy, because it's impossible, once one person is happy with something, there's always someone waiting wanting the opposite."

It's crazy that I've never had such trouble with it. Then I thought about it, and right now it's competing priorities. I was stupid enough to overcommit myself to the max this year. So time was a hot commodity, which played out in my schoolwork, jobs, extracurriculars, and also my relationships. Everything was asking for my full effort and all of my time. I had to start making choices and then couldn't handle it when not everyone was 100% satisfied at the end.
The thing is though, making everyone 100% satisfied was impossible. There is not enough of me, there is not enough time, I don't have enough sanity.
So is the healthy thing to make choices and just shrug when not everyone is happy?

That quote struck home because I realized that my issue is that my happiness is rooted in other people's happiness with me. If they see me as successful and living a good life, then I must be. If I'm messing up or they're disappointed in me, then something must be wrong with me.
The thing is though no one person sees every side of my life. No one other person will ever know if I am truly being successful and living a full life, but me.

I guess that is why the wise a**h*** advised us to live life not for other people, but for ourselves.

The struggle is finding the balance between living life for myself and being narcissistic and self centered. Can a balance be struck?

 I view it as a spectrum.
The goal, I guess, is to find the middle ground and be able to live for myself and still work for other people in it.

I guess it's not easy.

Those are my words of the wise for the day.

I don't like that because I think I am far from wise.

Those are my words of the learnt for the day.

Much better.

The Commitment

Today's the day.

Proof, in case you didn't believe me.
Look how happy and cold I look!

In high school, I loved running. I was slow, but loved it. I even ran cross country for a season! ...Total disaster, but I liked the pasta parties.

Anyways, during those awesome four years in adolescence (bold=sarcasm), I hardly ever missed a run and my body and sanity thanked me for it.


And then I came to college.

New friends, crazy schedule, and a ginormous meal plan.
                                                     ^  I thought that was a made up word.
                                                                                        

Fitness was among the first to be cut out. Don't get me wrong, over the past few years I've done some exercise, a zumba class here and there, a one day hiking trip, and that chacha dance performance that I spent way too much time preparing for.
Then there was the random month in January that I was super motivated and worked out hard core for about a month, then gave up.

This time WILL be different for a lot of reasons:

• I'm writing about it. This can count as a legal contract right?
• I'm gong into summer where time is much more plentiful. I hope 
• I'm ready and pumped! Remind me that I said this tomorrow when I'm complaining.
• I'm making a commitment to run a half marathon!

Sunday, October 7 is the big day!

So, here's the thing.

About a week ago I tried to pick up running again. I had my iphone and earbuds, my tie dye sports bra, my laces were tied, and my hair was pulled back from my face: all things that announce to the world I am a runner, cars and pedestrians get out of my way. 

I started this wonderful app on my phone called MapMyRun, which all serious runners should have. It tells you exactly how far you've run, uses a map to show your route, and has a lot of other fancy features I am just not qualified to have access to.

My pump up music, The Hairspray Soundtrack, was blaring in my ears and I took off ready to go. Not too fast, I didn't want to burn out too soon.

I was feeling good. The breeze was in my face, blood was pumping, and I was on top of the world.

Then it happened. My stomach started cramping, my legs filled with lead, and someone kept putting a sword down my throat and pulling it back out again. Ok, I thought, I'll just take a quick break and start running in a second. So I stopped and look down at my phone.

I had traveled . 36 of a mile. 

What!?

In high school I ran several miles at a time, 2 miles was a really bad day. AND NOW?

So this is me saying, I have a long way to go.

And now I think I'm gonna go put my shoes on and take on the elements....

Little Steps

Saw this on http://thingssheloves.tumblr.com/
Which I am slightly obsessed with.


And it made me think hard about the whole purpose of me starting this blog.
Obviously there are some changes that I would like to make, and this totally sets up the little steps. The little steps that will hopefully lead to a much more fuller life.

So starting today I will take the little steps.

I can tell you right now, number 12 is going to be the hardest one for me.
We'll work on that one tomorrow.

I'm Employed!

Well, doubly employed.


By day, I am an after school program couselor/site leader/ whateverthehelltheytellmetodo.

By night... Server!

Thanks Calypso for the opportunity to wear a tacky t-shirt and serve people food!


I found this job not because I necessarily needed the extra $$
(Let's be honest though, who doesn't need the money?)

I found this job mostly because I wanted to interact with more coworkers than the 5 middle aged ladies at my office. I also would like to open the door for more adventures. Serendipity anyone?

Hopefully I like the people I work with.

I start Saturday.


Let's start the adventures.

There's Always the Beginning

Sophomore year of college is closing, it's insane. Last week I was graduating high school, now I'm planning my life until graduation. 


One Saturday I left the bubble and took a walk. I took a walk through a real neighborhood with flowers and cars and real people. Schoolwork, jobs, friends, and schedules somehow made me forget that there are real people in the world, and one day I'll be one of them.

Suddenly I realized that life is fast.


So fast that this year I have realized I am 19 years old and working my life away. 
I want to stop and smell the roses. I want to live a full life.
I want romance. I want adventures. I want to be stupid.


It's summer of 2012 and I'm in Nashville. 
Anything can happen and I don't want to be passive and wait for life to happen.
Now's the time. And I can't wait.